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She had wanted to sit out there with Destiny. To watch over her baby girl through the night. To hover, like the mother she was. But he knew she wouldn’t sleep that way. She needed to rest. And if she learned he had given his daughter one of Geena’s muscle relaxers she took for the anxiety—Geena would be beyond furious.
Geena wasn’t really made for roughing it, for these kinds of adventures. She’d always been a little fragile. Not helpless, but…vulnerable. And he’d always wanted to protect her from the world. That was the tone of their marriage from day one. Maybe it was because of his age then. He’d been a mature man of thirty-one when they met. She’d been a naïve eighteen, and all alone in the world. He’d wanted to be her hero.
Maybe he’d sheltered her a bit too much back then. Protected her too much. Maybe if he hadn’t, she wouldn’t have missed the signs of trouble. The lies Morris Preston and his goons had told.
The liesPatsyhad told, to lure Arthur and Geena right into their little con back then.
It was Arthur’s fault.Hehad been the one who had been friends with Morris Preston. Who had brought Preston into Geena’s world.
That was another one of his great failures. He had promised her when she was no older than their Dorie that he would always take care of her. He’d done a great job of it, hadn’t he?
Hell, he had known he was far too old for her then, but he had taken one look at her and practically fallen in an instant. If a man that age ever even looked at his little Dorie, or any of his girls, he’d see the guy was thrashed to within an inch of his life.
He had been too old for Geena back then. He knew that now. But he had loved her. And he’d thought that was enough.
That love had never lessened. Not even for a moment.
She rested now, just because he had promised to watch over their daughter from the window. He checked his cell again—Devaney and her sisters were still at the chain motel several hours away. They were safe for now.
Destiny Marie. Dusty. It would take him a while to get used to calling her Dusty. Why did they call her that? It wasn’t a name he would have picked for his daughter. He remembered her as a rambunctious toddler.
Always in his memories of her, she was a toddler.
No wonder.
She hadn’t been old enough for him to really know her. To love her—absolutely. But toknowher, no. He had always loved his daughters. Always. He’d go to his grave loving those eight girls more than life itself.
When the door to the old shed slipped open, he almost didn’t believe his eyes.
He almost laughed. He’d slipped one of Geena’s nerve pills into the girl’s drink. Apparently, it hadn’t lasted as long for her as it would his wife. Of course, Geena was forty pounds lighter, older, and far frailer than his daughter. Arthur had forgotten to lock the shed last time. But a truck had been roaring by. He hadn’t wanted to get seen.
He’d been careless.
She should have been out for at least a little bit longer.
Where did Destiny think she was going?
They were probably two miles from town or so. On a lot that had been in the Talley family for generations. The travel trailer he and Geena had preempted tonight had been their own years ago. He’d put it on that lot without telling their family so long ago he couldn’t even rememberwhynow.
Right before he’d traded the damned lot to Morris Preston in a damned card game—without telling his father or brother and sister. Same game Leonard Triskele had wagered a damned ranch worth almost a million dollars.
Bruce Tyler had cheated and won both pieces of property.
And hadn’t done a damned thing with either since.
There was still electricity to the travel trailer, though. Which meant someone was paying the bill. He’d wondered at that. And someone had been staying there, relatively recently. There had been canned food in the cabinet. Still good, too.
And men’s clothing. A tall, big man’s clothing and a sleeping bag. A sleeping bag that he’d used to cover his daughter. Arthur had helped himself to all of it. And had wrapped Geena in a hooded sweatshirt over her sweater.
He watched his daughter as she escaped. Destiny was stumbling. A great deal.
That erased all humor and pride at her spirit he felt. He was proud she’d managed to escape, but she was probably still heavily sedated. And afraid.
How could she not be?
She wasn’t wearing her coat—it was right there in the chair next to him.
He grabbed his coat, hers, the flashlight, and a blanket. Just in case he needed it. He wasn’t about to let his daughter wander off in the damned cold, without her coat and drugged like that. No way in hell.
