by Maggie Thom
****
What are you going to do about it?
"What are you doing?"
Startled, that she was asking him the same question that was going through his head, he frowned at her. "What?"
"You're twisting that package like you're going to either try to make a taut rope or you're going to rip that aluminum foil package in half."
Looking at his hands he saw that he was mangling the wrapping from his snack. "Just thinking."
"Care to share?"
No, because all I have are hunches. And I don't want to scare you away from your family.
"Just that this week's been crazy."
She snorted, which reminded him that if he was finding it nuts, she had to be just about certifiable with what she'd gone through.
"I should have asked before now, how are you holding up? With losing your mom and all?"
She glanced at the newspaper he'd stuffed beside him. Seeing the direction of her look, he pulled it out and offered it to her. She shook her head.
"No. I? it's just my mom had an obsession with the news. I always thought that she was just a control freak but I wonder if there could be something more to it. Any ideas?"
"I don't know. Any particular part she used to read?"
"Cover to cover. And every major newspaper she could get her hands on. The weird thing was that when I was throwing them away, the ones from years gone by, I remembered where I was on some of those dates."
"Oh."
Turning, she faced him. "Yeah. Like where we lived. I learned to connect where we were at, to a date. It gave me something to do. It kept me from thinking about what was going on in my life." She twisted her hands together. "Every time we moved. Every time we screwed someone over. Every time we did something that made my stomach feel like it was full of battery acid, I can tell you the date. Ask me to remember when something good happened and I? don't know. Sad eh?"
"It had to be tough being on the go all the time." Guy restrained himself from reaching out to touch her, knowing she needed to keep talking and any sympathy on his part would shut her up.
"You have no idea. But at some point it became an expectation. You never really unpack. Never get too excited. Too attached. Because it will all change." She knocked her knuckles together. "Okay, enough about me. Tell me something about you. Did you move around a lot?"
He couldn't look away from her questioning gaze. He shifted several times in his seat.
"Ants in the pants? Guess I hit a nerve. Easy to talk about me but don't share with the pathetic life story of the girl if you can't beat it. Hmm?"
"No, I probably can't beat your story but mine's not so pretty either. Let's just say I was the result of a bad situation."
He ignored her arched eyebrow for a moment before giving in. "My mother was a maid for a wealthy family, she was said to have been raped. It was hushed up. She was given the boot. Until I was nine I lived with my mother and grandmother. Then my mom was killed in a car accident. My grandmother was a bit nuts and devious. She was blackmailing the rich family, telling lies and slandering them. She wanted money. My step grandmother, who had become the head of the mansion, basically bought me. She paid the old woman and next thing I knew was that I got to grow up in a beautiful old monstrosity of a house, where I was treated like gold."
"So your real grandmother didn't want you and figured you were a good way to get rich? How long did you live with her?"
"A few days."
"Your step grandmother put up money right away for you, even though you weren't related?"
"Uh. No."
"Okay, I'm confused."
He met her compelling gaze. He'd never told anyone about his upbringing before. "The day after my mom died, my real grandmother put me in the foster care system. It took my step grandmother over a year to find me and to stop the old bat from screwing with my life."
He didn't realize his hands were clenched into fists, until he felt the soft feel of her palms gently touching him. Taking a deep breath, he allowed her soothing touch to calm him. "So can I compete with your upbringing? No. Do I know what it's like to be shipped around and unwanted? Yes. Do I know what it's like to be a pawn in an ugly game? Yes."
"I'm sorry," she whispered but it didn't hide the depth of emotion behind it nor the tears that filled her voice.
It almost choked him up that she could feel for him when he'd only had it bad for a short time. She was still living her hell. Opening his hand, he flipped it over and clasped hers. They sat in silence for a long time, as they both stared off into space, enjoying their sense of camaraderie.
A long time later he looked down at the long, seen-better-days brown hair lying on his shoulder. Her breathing was deep and even. She was sleeping hard. He covered his yawn with his palm. He knew he must have snoozed a bit too because he didn't remember her leaning against him. Not wanting to wake her he settled back against the seat and carefully adjusted her head, so it laid more snugly against his chest. His arm slipped around her. It felt too comfortable. Too natural. Getting involved with a client was a big no-no and had never been an issue for him before. Something told him that this was no longer just about keeping her safe so she could reunite with her family.
He stared out the window, watching the grey clouds below them. The fact that he was headed home gave him a moment of reprieve. The tightening in his gut started to ease, to unwind, at least slightly. Then his mind shifted to all that had happened, to all that was still to come and to all that needed to be done. To figure out who was behind it all. The acid rolled and clawed his insides as though a cat was clawing up a curtain to get away from an enemy. If what he suspected was true and with knowing what Bailey still had to learn, he was going to have to hurt the one person who he felt was saving him. And he was going to end up drowning her in the hell of who might really have been the one to have her kidnapped.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE