AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I don’t want to talk right now.” I pushed away the phone. “I’m sorry.”
Carter quietly brought the phone to his ear and left the library to have what I assumed would be a private conversation-lecture with her.
“It’s okay,” Jack said to me, rubbing his thumb along my forearm. “When you’re ready, you’ll know.”
I nodded at him, loving how much this man accepted even the irrational parts of me, then distracted myself by heading over to one of the fully stocked, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Racing my fingers along the spines of what appeared to be mostly classics, I asked, “Should I go ahead and explain the story? Or wait for everyone to be here?” I paused at the sight of one book on the shelf above me, then reached for it. Jack London’s Call of the Wild.
“You can go ahead,” Gray said, and I turned toward the room, clutching the book protectively to my chest. Jack’s eyes traveled from my face to the book, but I doubted he could read the title from how I had it glued to my body beneath my forearm.
Jack stood alongside Gray, who had yet to change from the looks of it; Gray was still wearing the same military-looking clothes, bloodstains and all.
I took in the sight of the man I’d shared a romance novel-worthy scene with not too long ago and couldn’t ignore the fact I’d kind of loved how he’d lost himself in the moment.
Jack pushed his hands through his messy locks, still wet from said swoon-worthy scene. He’d opted for jeans that clung in all the right spots, and a navy-blue long-sleeve shirt, sleeves pushed to the elbows, exposing his corded forearms.
Giving me time to find the words, Jack turned toward the window that overlooked the mountains, inadvertently distracting me with the fit of his jeans. Shaking my head, I closed my mouth, hoping I hadn’t drooled while ogling the man I’d so quickly fallen for. It was time to recount my life and how we wound up in this predicament. Not my favorite subject matter.
“Maybe if you sit, that’ll help?” Mya offered, and I looked over at my sister on the couch. In her hot-pink top and jeans with holes in them, she looked like a beautiful young woman in a room full of her peers, and it suited her.
If I told my story, would it get us one step closer to her having a normal life?
“I’ll stand.” Clutching the book like a lifeline, I went over and stood by the couch alongside Lucy, not wanting to have my back to anyone while I delivered what felt oddly like a eulogy.
Jack faced me again, but stayed put, hanging back by Gray.
At least Lucy now knew all the dark parts I’d kept from her, so I didn’t have to burden her with any more unexpected news.
“Could you start from the beginning?” Mya asked, her tone soft as she perched a hip on the desk. “I know some of us know bits and pieces, but it’d help to hear everything from start to finish.”
I brought the hand not clinging to the Call of the Wild to my throat and drummed my fingers there, trying to remember the art of speech. A few deep breaths later, I told them about my mom and the hard life she’d had growing up. How she’d joined a heist crew before the age of sixteen. Met my dad, then gave up that life when she gave birth to me at nineteen. And wow, she’d just be turning fifty now. Mom’s closer in age to Jack than I am.
“Claudia stopped boosting cars when she was pregnant with you, but then when your dad died of a heart attack, your mom struggled with finding work,” Mya recapped my rambling. “So, she returned to the only work she’d known.”
It sounded so simple coming from Mya. If only . . . “Someone from my mom’s old heist crew reached out and offered her what was supposed to be a legitimate job with Brant Luther. That’s when she became one of Brant’s chauffeurs. I met that friend a few times, but he never gave me a name. And when I asked my mom for it, she told me the less I knew, the better. I realized the job was more than likely not legitimate after that, and I pressed her for the truth.” I swallowed at what I had to say next, then ripped off the Band-Aid.
I revealed everything that went down. Mom telling me the truth about her real line of work. How she taught me to drive, and even how to steal a car, not that I’d ever done that. Well, until last night in Peru. Then I detailed Mom’s sudden decision when I was twenty to leave the country. Her escape plan. The fake car accident. The plane tickets to London from Mexico.
I told them all of it. How Brant’s men took us from our home before I could even explain to Lucy that Mom never died in that accident. How they forced me to drive the getaway car for their planned heist that night since Mom was “dead.” And then when Brant decided he wanted me as part of his team for good, and hadn’t liked my answer of no, he’d tried to kill me.
“And that’s when the federal agents blew their own cover. To try and save us,” Lucy whispered. It sounded as much a reminder to herself as everyone else that we were innocent of their deaths.
“They gave their lives for us, and I wound up pinned for murdering one of those agents. I couldn’t even reach out to his family to offer my condolences and share how grateful I was for . . .” Saving Lucy. I swiped away a few errant tears and pushed on. “Brant started fighting with Mom’s old friend as he tried to convince Brant not to kill me. He wouldn’t listen. I was already bleeding at that point.” I covered my scar with the book even though nobody could see it. “Mom showed up, startling Brant, and he fired his gun. It was obvious he didn’t mean to kill her. The anguish in his voice, and the pain in his eyes . . . he was screaming, and even crying, while he held her in his arms.” I paused, beginning to get choked up. “It should have been me, holding her in her last moments, but . . .”
Jack started for me, sensing I was struggling, but I shook my head. I needed to get through this on my own. I had to be strong. He gave me a hesitant nod, then backed up a step, realigning himself alongside Gray.
“I reached for the gun Brant dropped—the one he’d used to kill the Fed—and shot the man who tried to stop me from escaping. Mom’s friend aimed at me, demanding I stop . . . but he couldn’t pull the trigger and kill me. So, that’s how we got away.” I blinked back a few tears.
“And Brant blames you for Claudia’s death,” Mya said softly.
The emotions I was trying to keep at bay pushed forward and the book slipped free from my grasp. “I need a minute. I’m sorry.” I abruptly rushed from the room before anyone could get out a word, slamming into Carter in the hallway on his way back to us. “Shit, sorry.”
He clutched my arms, halting me in place. “Are you . . .” A hard swallow from him as he met my eyes. “Okay?” He’d practically choked on that question, as if it’d been hard for him to show signs of emotion or offer comfort to someone else.
“I just need a second.”
His eyes left mine, moving beyond me, I assumed to Jack or my sister, who had likely followed me from the room. “Third door down on the right will take you to the sunroom. Take as many seconds as you need.”
I nodded my thanks, and as soon as he let go of me, I made a beeline in the direction he’d told me to flee.
