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“Good.”
“So now that I’ve acknowledged this subject is anything but simple, why don’t you tell me what it is about Romy von Krummacher that makes you so panicked you put your skirt on inside out?”
I looked down. Sure enough, there it was, inside out.
Great. Just fucking great.
“Are you interested in listening to what I know about Romy?”
“No.” My hands were shaking so much I barely managed putting my blouse on. The pearly round buttons were probably going to be beyond me.
“The von Krummacher family is—or at least it was—the financial force in the small town of Gobbler Gulch, Kentucky,” he went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “From a few decades before the Civil War to about thirty or so years ago, the von Krummachers were the main employers of that entire region, thanks to their logging and paper mill industries. They’d always been a wealthy family, barons or kaisers or something like that way back when Germany was named Prussia and titles like that meant something. Basically blue bloods since time began.”
“I don’t care.”
“The von Krummachers,” he went on determinedly, “are also responsible for the large German-American population in the area, as they brought over boatloads of friends and family from the motherland to find a new way of life here in the US. Marvin Pankey, your father, is actually descended from the Pankhe family, whose name changed to Pankey when they came down the gangplank and some pencil-pusher spelled it phonetically.”
“Didn’t you hear me? I don’t care about any of this.” What I cared about was trying to get my damn blouse buttoned. Why the hell were pearl buttons even legal? I should write my congressman.
“Over time, the von Krummachers made themselves a little kingdom in out-of-the-way Gobbler Gulch. They owned just about everyone and everything, including the local politicians. The people of Gobbler Gulch flourished only because that family allowed it. And when people suffered, it was because the von Krummachers wanted them to suffer. Everyone knew who was in charge, and if you wanted to have a good life, you never, ever crossed them.”
To hell with it. I didn’t want that final button done up anyway. “I don’t know what any of this has to do with anything.”
“It has everything to do with what happened to Romy von Krummacher, and to you, twenty years ago,” he said with a gentleness that made me want to smash his perfect face in. “Do you want to jump in at this point?”
“I don’t think you’d like my version ofjumping in, since it involves landing on you with full force,” I gritted out between clenched teeth. “You said you had work that kept you away from Chicago for a couple days. Out of curiosity, how did you get all that work done while still coming up with all this irrelevant bullshit on your own?” When he didn’t answer, just continued to look at me, the truth suddenly shone so clearly it took my breath away. “Thiswas the work that took you away from Chicago for two days?”
“I needed answers, and I had a feeling I’d find them in Gobbler Gulch, Kentucky. Beautiful place, by the way. Very picturesque, though kind of a dud when it comes to any sort of night life.”
“Why?” I demanded, stopping myself from surging up on him to scream in his face through sheer force of will. “Why the hell would you do that? What does interrogating me, or looking into my background, have to do with keeping me protected against a stalker who’s here in Illinois?”
“It doesn’t.”
Goddamn it. “Then why do you keep trying to pick me apart?”
“You really don’t know, do you?” At last he pushed to his feet and came closer, naked and unaware that I wanted to deck him. “And here I thought you were a genius. My bad.”
“Fuck you,” I said so fervently it made my eyes water. My fists shook with the need to do damage, and I was so angry I had trouble breathing. “If I wanted you to know something important about me, I would tell you. Or I would have, before you decided to Scooby-sleuth your way to Gobbler-fucking-Gulch, Kentucky, the low-brow armpit of middle America. Now you can forget me telling you even the time of day.”
“Romy von Krummacher was the black sheep of a family that saw itself as superior,” he said, the words coming out hard and fast, like he wanted to hit me with them so hard he stunned me into stillness. To combat it, I whirled and went in search of my shoes. “Romy dared to insist on going to public schools instead of the fancy boarding schools and finishing school the von Krummachers had always attended overseas. She volunteered at the local humane society and wanted to be a veterinarian. She loved all living things, which was horrifyingly provincial to any elitist von Krummacher. But the most horrible thing she ever did was fall in love with a boy who brought in an injured puppy he’d found on the side of the road. The local pig farmer’s boy, Marvin Pankey.”
I saw my hand curl around one of my shoes, but I couldn’t feel it. I’d gone so cold it was a wonder I hadn’t iced over. “Stop.”
“They were both still in high school, and according to those who went to school with them, it was a real Romeo and Juliet saga. They were legitimately in love, and against all odds they believed they could make it work, the princess and the pig farmer’s boy, because love like theirs needed to be forever.”
“Stop it.” I straightened and looked at him, hearing the break in my voice. “Please.”
His eyes darkened with what seemed to be a flinch. Then his jaw firmed, and I knew he was just getting started. “The von Krummachers kicked ol’ Marvin down the road toward a life that he ultimately decided to embrace wholeheartedly—the life of a criminal. Considering he’s got to be a charismatic genius who could have done literally anything with his life if he’d been given half a goddamn chance, that might be one of the biggest sins the von Krummachers are guilty of. For that alone, I hope Romy’s old man is frying in hell for what he did to Marvin.”
My face was wet. I couldn’t breathe. But none of that mattered. I just needed him to stop before it was too late. Before he revealed the worst secret of all, the secret that crushed me every minute of every day.
“Klaus von Krummacher was the evil motherfucker who got Marvin Pankey thrown in jail for grand theft and put away for ten years,” Luke said, picking at that old, old scar, no doubt to see if he could make me bleed. “I was told by some of Marvin’s old posse that Klaus claimed he wanted to give Marvin a brand-new car when he’d learned that his daughter, Romy, was pregnant and the two of them had plans to elope. Marvin may have only been a teenager at the time, but he was still a genius, so he didn’t just fall into a trap as obvious as that. He decided to be noisy about Klaus’s offer, letting everyone in town know about the car Klaus said he wanted to give him, and that he’d accept the gift only because he meant to do right by Romy and marry her. According to his old friends, Marvin even went to a pastor, something that shocked me because your old man hates anything having to do with religion. But he obviously wanted to do the whole wedding thing up right for his lady love. I think at the time Marvin knew a future with Romy was hopeless, that he was destined to be royally fucked. But he still needed to try. He loved your mother that much.”
I slipped my shoes on and turned to face him. “I’m sorry you wasted so much time in Gobbler Gulch, Luke. It was all for nothing. That long-ago drama has nothing to do with me or my stalker, and since I refuse to be involved with someone who goes behind my back to investigate me, it has nothing to do with anyone in your life, because I’m out.”
“I only went to Gobbler Gulch because trying to get answers out of you is like trying to get water from a fucking rock,” he shot back, crossing to where I stood to grip my upper arms like he thought he could hold me prisoner there forever. “And I needed those answers to better understand the woman who’s going to be the mother of my children. So if you’re waiting for me to apologize, don’t hold your breath.”
His words froze me in place better than any physical restraint ever could. “What?”
