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“Who did this to you, Liza?” I ask, changing the subject.
Her smile vanishes. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Was it Hawk?” I hate asking it, but I have to. I hope she answers no and when she shakes her head, I’m relieved.
“I missed you, Missy. You just left.”
I think back to the last time I saw Liza all those years ago.
“You know I can’t take a chance on Sean finding me.”
Liza’s face hardens. “He found me.”
“It’s not you he’ll hurt.”
“He did hurt me. When you left me there.”
Shame leaves me mute.
“But that’s past,” she says, although the tone of her voice tells me something else.
“Does he know why you’re in town?” I ask.
“You mean does he know about you being here?” she asks, answering my question with her own.
I nod.
“I didn’t tell him.”
I listen to how she says it, how she doesn’t quite look at me when she does.
“But does he know?”
She meets my eyes. “If I can just get a little money, I can get out of this place.”
She wants money. That’s all.
I feel the sudden shift, the coolness of her gaze, and wonder if she read the change in my expression.
“The sooner I’m away from Sean, the better. Now that you’re here, I can stay with you,” she says.
“No. I’m sorry. I’m leaving town for a while.” I reach into my tote, take out the envelope with half of the money I had saved to donate to the shelter this month. I hold it out to her. “It’s not much, but it’ll help you when you’re out.” She reaches for it, but I pull it away. “You can’t tell him about me, understand? He can’t know I was here. He’ll hurt me, Liza. Really hurt me. And you know it.”
“He already hurt me, Melissa,” she spits, using my full name. “When you left.”
“I had no choice. He would have killed me after what I did.”
“We were supposed to go together.”
I lower my gaze. We had a plan, yes. We would go to the police. Tell them everything. But then she lied. Changed her story.
“I need to go.” Because every minute I’m here, I’m in danger. I set the envelope of cash in the drawer of the nightstand by her bed.
“Can I call you at least?” she asks.
“That’s not a good idea. I told you that the last time. I can’t see you again, Liza. It’s too dangerous.”
I walk to the door.
“So that’s it?”
I stop. “I’m sorry, I—”
“You just walk away? Again?”
I turn to face her. “Do you know Hawk’s men came to my house?” I ask, remembering how scared I’d been. Letting myself get angry. “Do you know they were waiting there for me when I got home? Do you know what I did for you last night?”
This time, it’s her to shift her one good eye away.
“I think we’re even, Liza.”
I walk out the door then, feelings of guilt and anger warring inside me. I believe her when she says he hurt her after I left, but the family adopted her months after I was gone. She’s officially Sean’s sister. And he won’t hurt her now if only because it won’t look good if he does. He’s like his father, image is everything. I guess if you’re a politician, it matters more than the truth.
I don’t feel easy when I walk away and as if on cue, when I get into my car, my phone vibrates with a message. I take it out and see a text from an unknown number.
“I’m having a dress sent over. Car will pick you up for dinner. Hawk.”
“How did you get this number?” I text back.
“He’ll be at your house at seven.” I’m not surprised he doesn’t answer my question, am I?
The timing is serendipitous.
If I accept, I will be safe. Safe from Sean, at least. Maybe I’ll be jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire, but the only thing I know for sure is Sean will come after me if—when—Liza tells him I’m here. Because she will tell him.
She may say she misses me, and maybe she even believes it, but I think she hates me. Hates me for leaving her behind even if she knows it was the only choice I had.
And now, I make another choice.
I type a text to Hawk: “I have terms.”
9
Hawk
I see her before she sees me.
I’m in the restaurant at my usual table. Here on the floor above the casino, the constant ringing of slot machines is absent. Instead, a pianist plays softly in the background and given the prices of this particular establishment, it’s only the cream of the crop who can afford it.
The hostess gestures to me and Melissa turns. She looks stunning in the long, tight-fitting black gown I sent for her to wear. A look through her closet yesterday told me she wouldn’t have anything appropriate. The dress is slit almost all the way to her hip and the deep V between her breasts displays the curves of those heavy mounds.
