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“You don’t owe anyone the full version if you don’t want to tell it,” I told her, reaching out to touch the very edge of one of the scars where the tattoo didn’t quite cover it.
A shiver worked its way through her at the barely-there touch, and then she exhaled hard, pulling on her tee, and turning to drop down on the bed.
“I think it’s time I finally tell someone,” she said.
I dropped down beside her, placing my hand on her knee as she started the story again, this time not leaving out the details.
The dehydration.
The starving.
The lashing.
The woman who’d been tortured, the threat of it happening to more victims that eventually had her caving and agreeing to build the gun.
Then, yeah, the details about the guard, about his hands where they didn’t have a right to be, about the omen of more if it hadn’t been for Cain himself coming in.
Then killing him with her own gun.
I had to agree, when it was all done, that I agreed even more with what Slash had said down in the kitchen.
Cain Roth was obsessed with her.
He wanted her back.
Not to kill.
But to possess.
To keep and do whatever he pleased with.
Releasing her knee, I grabbed her hand instead, giving it a squeeze.
“He has to go,” I said, lacing my fingers between hers.
“Yes,” she agreed, exhaling hard. “I’ve been running long enough.”
It was no small thing to take down a man like Cain Roth. Because it wasn’t just one man. It was an organization. It would be like taking down the mob. Except these sick fucks wouldn’t be living normal lives out in the open. They operated on the fringes of society, keeping a low profile, never letting themselves be seen. Especially Cain Roth, if the Feds were looking for him.
And because of their evil interests, they band even tighter together, protecting one another.
That said, aside from saving Murphy from their grasps, it would be doing the world as a whole a favor if we took the fucker out.
“I just need to finish these guns for you guys, and then I can start working on that.”
“We,” I clarified. “We will start working on that.”
“I can’t drag you into my mess. Any more than I already have.”
“It’s already done. Didn’t know this bastard existed before today. Now, we can just consider taking him out a public service announcement. It’s not going to be easy to track him down.”
“No,” she agreed. “And I’m not as skilled with computers, with trying to track people down, or hack their addresses or whatever people do.”
I wasn’t either.
But that was a problem for another day.
She was right.
The guns were the priority right now. By then, I hoped she would feel comfortable enough with us to stay, to give it time to track down Cain, to formulate a foolproof way to take him and his organization out.
“Thanks for telling me,” I said. “Does it feel better to have someone who knows?”
“Yeah,” she admitted.
“You’ve been alone a lot, huh?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“I haven’t had anyone since my dad died,” she admitted.
Ten years.
Ten years with no one but herself. No one to tell her burdens to, to share her triumphs with. Birthdays, Christmases, every event and holiday all alone.
I couldn’t fathom that.
I always had my crew. Sure, when I’d been younger, it had been smaller. But I’d always had people around. I’d taken for granted how lucky I was.
“Sway?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you tell me something?” she asked. “Something personal,” she added. “This feels very… lopsided now.”
“I can do that,” I agreed, taking a deep breath. “I was raised mostly by my old man, too,” I told her.
“What happened to your mom?” she asked.
“Nothing. She’s still alive and well. My parents had a nasty-ass relationship. When it ended, I was all of two, I think, I went with my ma. My dad, I dunno, guess he wanted to be single, didn’t know what the fuck to do with a toddler, that kind of thing.
“My ma took me with her to L.A. She had dreams of acting. She’d been pretty enough, but…” I said, wincing a little.
“But not the talent?” Murphy asked.
“She was a good singer, but she wasn’t a believable actress. It wasn’t long before she needed to use her pretty to find a way to put food on the table. She worked as a stripper. I spent a lot of time backstage with the women when she was on stage.”
“That… that actually explains a lot,” she said, shooting me a smirk.
“I gained a healthy admiration of women at a young age,” I agreed. Back in the day when the tits and the asses, they didn’t mean anything. But the warmth and the love from those women, it had ingrained a deep appreciation for their gender as a whole.
“And then?” she asked, sensing it.
