“Fucking hell.”
After a local case involving crooked police and murder had garnered national attention, splashing Charlotte’s face all over the news outlets, Graham Knightly officially put himself on our radar when he sent one of his men after her to find out what she knew of her sister’s whereabouts, a sister she hadn’t seen in nearly two decades. Things had escalated to ugly, and it didn’t take much digging for us to discover Ohio’s Lieutenant Governor was all kinds of dangerous, and that his wife’s disappearance and reports of her death reeked of some sort of cover-up.
“If I had to guess, that kid’s the reason she went on the run and has been living as a different person this whole time.”
I could hear the weariness in Linc’s sigh, clear as day. “Which means she probably won’t be too thrilled with us tracking her down for a long-awaited family reunion.”
“That would be my guess.” I watched through the windshield as she and her daughter moved along the sidewalk. Cheyanne—no, that wasn’t right. Sawyer looked like a completely different woman just then as she beamed at the toddler in her arms. Her whole face was lit up like the Fourth of July, happiness practically radiating from her pores. The anxious woman I’d encountered at the coffee shop the day before was completely gone as she smiled and laughed at her little girl, saying something I couldn’t hear through the glass and distance between us. “Not so sure letting Dalton know I found her is the best idea just yet,” I admitted, feeling shitty for having to say it. Unfortunately, it was the truth. “He’s all about making his woman happy, not that I can blame him there, and Charlotte finally connecting with her sister after all these years would definitely make her happy. But he’ll want to move in fast and if I do that now, she might get spooked and take off again.”
“I agree.” He hesitated for a second, then clipped, “Fuck. Wish I didn’t, but I see your point, and I think you’re right. If we told them now, I don’t think we could keep them reined in. Know for a fact Charlotte would jump her ass on a plane before any of us could stop her. Hell, she’d probably stab anyone who tried to stand in her way.”
He wasn’t wrong about that. Charlotte Belmont wasn’t the kind of woman to take orders—or hell, even a polite request if she wasn’t in the mood. She might have looked like a tiny little pixie, but she had a fire in her that screamed do not fuck with me. She wouldn’t hesitate to cut you if she felt you deserved it, and her wrath would make most men’s balls shrink back up inside them. Dalton had his hands full with that one, and he fucking loved every second of it. As much as that woman could terrify me, I had to admit, I could see the appeal.
“So how do you want me to play this?” I asked as I continued to watch mom and daughter. Sawyer had lowered the kid to her feet, and now they were literally skipping down the sidewalk. As they got closer, I could hear the muffled sounds of the little girl giggling like crazy, and it made a smile tug at my lips.
“For the time being, just keep her and the kid in your sights, yeah? You’re just another tourist enjoying some time off by the beach. If you can, feel her out. We’ll give it some time and reassess later on.”
“All right, boss. Sounds good to me.”
“This’ll stay between us for the time being. Keep me posted if anything comes up.”
“You got it.”
I hung up a second later, my eyes on the reflection of Sawyer and her little girl in the side-view mirror as they passed by my truck and continued down the sidewalk. I’d do what Lincoln suggested and keep an eye out. I just hoped like hell that now that we finally managed to find her, it wouldn’t turn the world she’d created for herself and her daughter upside down.
Chapter Four
Sawyer
With bath time done and teeth brushed, I helped Renee into her jammies, pulling the nightgown with a sleeping cartoon teddy bear over her little belly.
“Boo!” she shouted the moment her head popped through the neck hole. I let out a little squeak and held my hand to my chest, feigning fright. “Gotcha, Mommy!”
“Sure did, sweetheart. Now hop up here and spin around to I can brush your hair.”
She did as instructed, grabbing hold of the comforter in her tiny fists and tugging herself up onto the bed. She crawled across the mattress until her knees bumped mine and plopped down with her back to me.
I picked the brush up off the bedside table and started carefully pulling the bristles through her damp hair. My little girl was almost three years old, and I’d never once taken her for a haircut, so the silky dark blonde locks hung past her shoulder blades. It was a few shades lighter than my own hair, and much darker than Graham’s natural blonde.
I still had a few pictures from my childhood stashed in a box tucked in the very back of my closet, high up on a shelf, and as Renee got older and her features went from those of a baby to a little girl, I pulled that box down to make a comparison. Sure enough, my precious girl got her hair from my sister. My twin. I hadn’t seen her in what felt like a lifetime, in fact, we were only a few years older than Renee when we were ripped apart, but I could still remember clear as day that Charlotte’s hair had always been a little lighter than mine.
My baby also had her aunt’s eyes. Our mother’s eyes. It was a wonder I could still remember what they’d looked like all these years later. I’d been so damn young, after all, but I did, and the pictures I’d carried everywhere with me, keeping secreted away from prying eyes all my life, helped fuel those memories.
Where I’d taken after my father, getting his brown eyes, my girl had taken after my mom and sister, having the most gorgeous hazel gaze that turned different shades of green, blue, or brown depending on what she was wearing.
“All done.” I put the brush back on her nightstand beside her adorable little daisy lamp. “Up you go. Under the covers.” She scrambled up the bed as I stood, pulling the comforter and sheet back so she could climb between them before tucking them under her chin. “Did you pick what book you want as a bedtime story, doodle bug?”
“Pwincess stowy, Momma” she demanded.
“The princess story again? That’s five nights in a row.”
“Pwincess stowy!” she exclaimed loudly.
I let out a sigh of fake exasperation and sat down beside her, my heart swelling and chest warming as she snuggled into my side. “Once upon a time, in a castle high up in the clouds, there were two little princesses.”
“Sistews!” she cried out.
“That’s right, sweetheart. They were sisters. Twins, actually.”
“Theiw names, Momma,” she whispered excitedly, already knowing the story I’d made up for her by heart. “Say theiw names.”
“Their names were Cheyanne Riley and Charlotte Renee.”
“Like me!”
I hugged her tighter against me and gave her side a little tickle. “That’s right. You’re named after the oldest princess because you’re just as special as she was. Anyway, the little princesses were loved by their mommy and daddy, the king and queen, so very much. The whole magical kingdom came out to celebrate the day they were born, and as they got older, they grew closer than two sisters had ever been. They were best friends, two halves of a whole.