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I looked up at her. “This is you he’s talking about?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“You’re Kerry Silvermane’s missing daughter?”
Kerry Silvermane was an oil tycoon and politician. I didn’t know much about him, but I knew his face.
Again, Cassidy nodded but said nothing.
“Is Cassidy your real name?”
She shook her head. “No. My name is Chelsea. But don’t ever call me that, okay? She doesn’t exist anymore.”
I handed the phone back to her.
“Do you know who sent you the message?” I asked.
“No. But only two people know that number. Missy and my boss at the diner, Molly.”
“You think either of them sent it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s Missy fucking with me. She knows who I am now. She contacted my brother and told him where to find me. Maybe this is her way of getting back at me not telling her who my foster father is.”
She could be right.
Missy sounded like a vindictive bitch.
She’d contacted Barrett and told him where Cassidy was, so it was more than likely she’d given him her phone number too.
Cassidy sat down on the bed, her glorious blonde hair tumbling around her tanned shoulders. She was quiet for a moment as she looked for the words. When she finally spoke, her smoky voice was heavy with sadness.
“Please don’t let him find me.” Her lips shook as she spoke, and I had an irrational desire to kiss them until they stopped shaking. “My brother is a very dangerous man.”
I knelt down in front of her. “I think I can handle him.”
All men fell down the same if you put a bullet through them. Dangerous or not.
“The best thing you could do is let me go. And forget you even met me.”
I raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m balls deep in this now, so that’s not an option.”
She exhaled a rough breath, trying to stop her chin from quivering. “I ran away and my brother will stop at nothing to find me.”
“And your father—”
Her eyes shot to mine. “He can’t know where I am either. Chance, you have to believe me.”
“I do.” I wasn’t going to push her. She was clearly traumatized, and if I pushed her for details tonight, she would probably flee. And from what she said, if she fled tonight, she could die.
So I was going to take her at face value. She needed help. So I was going to help her.
Tonight, the best thing I could do was reassure her, keep her safe, and do everything in my power to keep my fucking hands off her.
While Fight Night took off in the clubhouse, we ate a bowl of Red’s chili and watched a Game of Thrones DVD.
Cassidy was one of the few people left on Earth who had never heard of the TV show, and after the first two episodes, she was fascinated. It was a good distraction. She seemed calmer.
“You know, you can sit on the bed with me,” she said, her raspy voice alluring without trying to be.
“No, you have it. I’m fine.” And I was fine, sitting on the incredibly uncomfortable chair well out of arm’s reach of her.
“You’re making me feel like Rose in Titanic,” she said with a cute grin. “We all know Jack would’ve survived if he’d climbed on that damn door with her.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. But when an unfamiliar warmth poured into my chest, my smile faded. I didn’t want that warmth. I had no business with it.
She turned her attention back to Game of Thrones.
“So let me get this straight,” she said, getting comfortable on my bed. “She’s married to the king, but that guy she’s having sex with is her twin brother?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm,” she said, thinking about it. “And where is this set?”
“It’s a fictional world. The seven kingdoms of Westeros.”
She gnawed the inside of her cheek as she thought about it.
“They’re definitely kinky motherfuckers,” she finally decided, reaching for an apple on the food tray next to our empty chili bowls. Peeling off the produce sticker, she rolled onto her stomach while I did everything humanly possible not to notice how peachy her ass looked as she lay across my bed.
“Darlin’, you don’t know the half of it.”
She pointed to the TV. “And the blonde girl—”
“Daenerys Targaryen …”
“I think she’s going to be kick-ass. Although, she does kind of have a fiery look in her eye. Like she could get stabby at any minute.” She bit into the apple. “Have you noticed how much her warlord husband looks like Maverick?”
“Whatever you do, don’t tell Maverick that. He’ll never get his head through the fucking door.”
She smiled and took another bite of the apple. Juice ran down her chin, and it was all I could do not to lick it from her flesh.
“So you want to watch another episode?” I asked when the episode finished.
“I want to watch all of them!”
