“I think I should let her explain.”
I’d started to take another sip but put the cup down again. “I don’t understand.”
He stood, walked to a jacket that hung on the doorknob to the backyard, and took an envelope out of the pocket. “She left this for you.” He walked back and handed it to me. “It should shed some light onto what’s going on.”
I opened it, my movements wary. I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to know now that it was all happening. The envelope contained a note with a URL written on it, the penmanship beautiful.
“I’m supposed to go here?”
“Yeah. She recorded a message for you before she died. She didn’t want you to have it unless . . . unless she passed. It’s on a file at that address.”
“Thank you.” I stared at the address as though it might hold all the answers I’d been searching for.
“I feel like I know all about your vagina,” he said, bringing me back to the present, “but very little about you.”
A heat comparable to a nuclear blast rushed over my skin. I could only imagine the shades of red I was turning, which made my face even hotter. “Yeah, sorry about that. I thought I was alone.”
“Don’t apologize. I enjoyed the conversation.” That grin reappeared and a wave of heat washed over me again, this time for a different reason.
“It’s really warm in here,” I said, unbuttoning my jacket.
“Which is why I’m working on the furnace today. Percival can be a jerk.”
Right. He was a journeyman. “Look, about that. I appreciate your help, but I can’t afford you right now.”
I couldn’t even afford a hotel room at the moment. I hadn’t been this broke since my ramen-noodle college days. I didn’t want to call my dads, to drag them into the quagmire that was my life. I’d made my bed. Unfortunately, it had been with a thieving snake. An imposter who’d convinced me I could have my happily ever after if I just signed my name here. And here. Oh, and here.
I tried giving up signing my name on anything ever again. Unfortunately, the world didn’t work that way.
“Not a problem,” Roane said. “I’m all paid up.”
He stood. “Ruthie’s room is upstairs on the second floor, first room on the right. The sheets are clean and the water is hot. You look like you could use some rest.”
I cringed. “That bad, huh?” I hadn’t showered in three days. Apparently, it showed.
Roane shook his head. “Bad is not the word I’d use.”
Remembering the creature that’d slipped past me, I said, “Oh, there’s a cat.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. His name is Ink. Short for Incognito.”
“He was Ruthie’s?”
“No, he’s mine. Though I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone. He causes more trouble in the neighborhood than a gang of rabid raccoons. Also, he hates everyone, so you shouldn’t see him much. If you do, just kick him out.”
“Does he have food here? Just in case?”
An easy smile slid across his face. “He’ll be fine.”
After offering to help me get settled, which I declined, Roane went back to work and I brought my bag inside. I took the stairs to the second floor and looked out over the balcony into the foyer. This place was breathtaking.
Though I loathed the thought of sleeping in Ruthie’s room, apparently it was the only one with an actual bed. The other rooms, all thirteen of them, were empty. Annette would have to sleep with me when she arrived in the morning. For now, I just wanted a shower. Sleep could wait, even though I’d hardly gotten any for the last three days. Every time I closed my lids, I dreamed of wolves.
A wolf, actually.
I would only catch glimpses of the beautiful creature. Red with a black undercoat. Because of that, sleep had been evasive.
The room, like the rest of the house, had rich, black walls and floor-to-ceiling windows. The bathroom, however, was bright. Light gray wallpaper and white fixtures with a claw-foot tub that called my name like a siren in the night. Not a police siren either.
After an incredible shower, I crawled onto Ruthie’s four-poster bed, fought the urge to dive under the blankets, and opened my laptop. I searched the Wi-Fi options, assuming I’d have to use the hotspot on my phone. But one name on the network caught my eye: Defiance.
I clicked on it and was connected instantly. Did Ruthie know I would come? Was she that confident I’d show? Of course, the words free house would probably lure someone in WITSEC out of hiding.
I typed in the URL. A box popped up asking me if I wanted to download the file. Figuring I had nothing else to lose, I said yes just as my stomach growled.
I double-clicked on the file, fully prepared to lose my entire life as I’d likely just downloaded a virus, and watched as several folders loaded. One in particular captured my attention. Just like the connection, it was named Defiance. I clicked on it and a video popped onto the screen.
A woman with shoulder-length blond hair appeared. I instantly hit pause. A solid white background did nothing to indicate where she was and I had no idea if she’d filmed the video three days ago or three years.
The woman I’d assumed was Ruthie Goode was so much more elegant than I’d imagined she would be. I hadn’t known what to expect, but a disposition born of nobility had not been it.
It was the tilt of her chin. The firmness of her mouth. The confidence in her eyes. She was poise and grace and she was beautiful.
Seriously, was everything in this town stunning? Percival. Roane. And now Ruthie Goode.
The cat jumped on the bed just then, proving my theory wrong, and sauntered his way toward me as though doing me a favor. Ink may not have been as stunningly gorgeous as the aforementioned, but even he had a certain scruffy charm. A street-hardened charisma.
Like much of the house, he was black, only he had tufts of hair missing and a scar across his face. Part of one ear was gone and his olive-green irises were relaxed yet alert. I got the feeling he didn’t miss much.
“You’ve seen more than your fair share of battles, haven’t you, mister?”
I scratched his ears, mostly because he let me, and clicked play again.
Ruthie blinked at the screen as though surprised, cleared her throat, and began. “Defiance,” she said, her voice husky like a lounge singer in a smoke-filled bar. “You don’t know me. I’m your grandmother.”
I sucked in a soft breath. I’d always wondered about my heritage. Where I’d come from. What my biological parents had been like. And now, after all these years, it seemed like I would finally get some answers. Suddenly, I was ten again, questioning where I’d come from. Hoping to have been loved. Praying I hadn’t been discarded like yesterday’s paper. but cherished. Given up for a good reason.
“It’s a long story,” she continued, her eyes glistening with moisture, “and I know you have questions, there are just some things we have to do before we can get to that. For now, I’ll just say that . . . your mother died when you were three.”
No. A hand covered my mouth as something inside me broke. A dream. A childish fantasy I’d had since I was a little girl. If Mrs. Goode were to be believed, I would never get to meet the woman who bore me. The woman whom I always believed had let me go. She’d had no other choice.