“That sounds like you’re making excuses for a man who sold a woman,” Gabe sneered.
“Excuses for my father?” God, as if. The thought made me want to puke. “No. I hope he’s rotting in hell. Excuses for Amie, yes. I understood her pain. She needed to hold on to her memories even if they were false because she had nothing else. I shouldn’t have told her I knew her parents worked for my dad. That was a shitty thing to do.”
“A shitty thing to do?” Owen exploded. “She sold you. Do you not understand what that means? Jesus fuck, woman. The life she wanted for you was worse than death.”
“She wanted me to live her mother’s life, Owen. She wanted me to pay for what my father did to her family. And I can’t blame her for that.”
“You can’t? I sure as fuck can and I do.”
“I lived in that house and I knew what was happening but I was too much of a coward to stop it.”
And that was the God’s honest truth. I was a coward. I convinced myself I didn’t have choices when I did. I simply chose wrong.
“You were a teenager. How did you think you were going to stop it?”
“I could’ve gone to the police.”
“And you would’ve been dead. Your dad and uncle owned the local cops.”
“Dead’s better than—”
“Don’t fucking finish that,” Owen snarled then looked at Myles. “We’ll meet you at the office in twenty.”
Wordlessly, Kevin, Myles, and Gabe shuffled out of Owen’s house, and for the first time since I’d met him, I was scared to be alone with him.
I wasn’t afraid he’d physically harm me.
But emotionally, he could cut me to shreds.
Chapter 3
The front door closed behind Gabe and I waited.
I heard car doors slamming, and I waited longer.
Finally, I heard engines roar to life and that was when I turned to face Sarah.
Fear.
That was what I saw—all I saw. And it pissed me right the fuck off. I’d worked hard over the months to ease the look of dread. I’d given her nothing but easy, not wanting to push her. Sensing she needed peace after what she’d been through. Maybe that was a mistake. I should’ve pushed her for answers. I should’ve made her face her past, then worked to smooth the trauma.
But I hadn’t.
I screwed up, and now I was going to rectify that error knowing full well she’d withdraw and be angry, likely scared, and not giving a single care about either.
It was time.
“Wake up.”
“Huh?” Sarah returned, and her brows pinched.
“It’s time you woke the hell up and started paying attention.”
Her torso jerked and a deep frown marred her pretty face.
“What?”
I took a good long look at the woman who had shared my home but nothing else, and the familiar feeling of inadequacy washed over me. I’d shared a home with Naomi. I’d shared my life, my money, my hopes, and she’d shit all over it. And here I was again, sharing—not to the same extent but in some ways more—and once again the woman before me took, but never gave a goddamn thing back in return.
Not her trust, not her history, nothing.
So what if Natasha stirred long-ago forgotten desire? The spell Nat wove was a different craving. I was forty, not twenty. The thrill of meaningless sex had diminished and the three years I’d spent with my ex-wife dulled the fascination of having a family. Nowadays it took a lot more than tits, ass, and legs to catch my attention. I’d had plenty of relationships since Naomi, none of them deep and abiding, none of them started with the intent they’d last. A step above meaningless. That was all I had to offer. Friendship, respect, and sex.
But Nat, she was different. She gave me nothing, wanted nothing, yet I wanted it all.
Her lack of trust and my stupidity pissed me right the fuck off.
“Pay attention! There are a lot of people who are putting their ass on the line for you.”
“I know that.”
“Then start participating in your life.”
“I don’t understand what that means, Owen. I tried and got railroaded into going to Idaho. I wanted to go back to Chicago.”
Christ, the woman had no sense.
“You wanna die? Is that it? You have a death wish?”
“What? No.”
“Then shut up about going to Chicago.”
Natasha’s shoulders bunched and her arms folded across her waist and the woman shrank back.
Fuck.
“Damn, Nat. I shouldn’t have told you to shut up. I’m sorry.”
“No. You’re right. I need to stop talking. It doesn’t matter what I have to say.”
“Don’t do that. You’re not a teenager, don’t sulk like one.”
“I’m not sulking. I’m admitting you’re right. I should stop talking.”
“Is this what they taught you?” I asked, even though I didn’t need her verbal confirmation. The answer was in the way she held herself.
“I know better than to talk too much.”
It was beginning to dawn on me that not only did I not know Nat at all, I didn’t have the first clue what her father and uncle had done to her. One would think that would quell my temper, unfortunately, it had the opposite effect.
“No, Nat, you don’t talk enough. Christ, woman, open your mouth and stand up for yourself. Speak. Yell. I don’t give a shit, just say something.” I took a step closer and her flinch set my body on fire. “Do you think I’d hit you?”
“No.”
“Fuck no. That’s the right answer. Fuck no, would I ever put my hands on you in anger.”
“Okay.”
Her whispered agreement felt like a slap in the face.
“Jesus.” My hands went to my hips, and contrary to what I told her I wanted to shake her alive. Shake her until she woke up. Rattle that brain of hers until she lost control.
“What do you want me to say?” she shouted.
Finally.
“Anything. Christ, Nat. Just say something.”
“I can’t.”
And just like that, she gave up.
Fucking hell.
“Whatever. Then stay quiet. Let your life roll by. Let me and the team make you safe, then…I don’t know, continue to move through the rest of your time walking around with your head down. I wouldn’t call that living, but hey, at least you’ll be breathing. I won’t have to live my life with your death on my conscience.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Check it, Nat, life’s not fair. There are no guarantees. No promises. Nothing is owed to you. You want something, fight for it. You want better, fight for it. But fuck, woman, you have to fight.”
“I don’t know how to do that.”
“Bullshit, you don’t.”
“I don’t,” she repeated.
“Right. See, I don’t believe you.” I ticked off on my fingers one by one. “Somehow, you lived through your father’s abuse, your mother’s neglect, your uncle’s madness, being sold, a kidnapping, and a beating. And you did that by fighting. The war might’ve taken place in your mind, but you fought it. And you won. But standing here with me, a man you know will never hurt you, you lock yourself away and give up.”