Page 28 of Rogue Survivor
“I told you, Mom,” Veronica calls from behind Isabel.
Isabel groans, and I angle a glance at her daughter. “Told her what?”
“That the dress was hot. She wanted to wear apantsuit.” After an eye roll, Veronica yawns. “I smell coffee. Why do I smell coffee? Is there coffee?”
Hiding the cup behind my back, I kick myself. I had no idea the kid would want any.
Isabel looks as guilty as I feel. Extricating herself from the crook of my arm, she eases a hip onto the bed and takes Veronica’s hand. “The place Connor’s taking us won’t be ready for a few hours. Would it be okay with you if AJ—that’s AJ in the corner—stayed here with you so I can go home and grab what we’ll need for a few days?”
Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head. “They have my driver’s license, Mom. What if they’re waiting for you at home? I don’t need any of my stuff. Really.”
Isabel pales, all her excitement at getting Veronica the things a seventeen-year-old needs to feel comfortable and safe disappearing almost instantly. “Oh, God. I didn’t think…”
“We’ll go to my place first,” I say. “Give Zephyr a chance to see if there are any traffic cameras with a view of your house.”And get my service weapon.
“I have a doorbell camera. And a security system.” Isabel scoots closer to Veronica, her arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “IthinkI armed it when I left for the hospital.”
I approach the bed, doing my best not to limp. Holding out my hand, I make a fist, my last finger extended. Veronica might be seventeen, but you’re never too old for a pinky swear. “I promise I won’t let anyone hurt your mom. If it’s not one hundred percent safe, we’ll hightail it back here faster than a sneeze through a screen door.”
Veronica chews on her lip for a long moment, her brown eyes full of fear. “Promise?”
I nod at my hand, and when she curls her pinky around mine, I give it a squeeze. “Promise. Your mom matters to me, Veronica. Nothin’ in my world is more important than makin’ sure the two of you are safe.”
Chapter Eleven
Connor
Isabel doesn’t saya word the entire drive to my apartment. Her hands folded in her lap, she stares out the window, the occasional slow, deep breath making her shoulders heave.
“Talk to me, darlin’. Are you worried about going home?”
“I’m worried about everything,” she says as I pull into my parking spot and kill the engine. “How much tragedy can Veronica handle in her life? She remembers losing her dad. Remembers howIdealt with it—or didn’t…for a while. If Mitzi doesn’t survive, I don’t know that she will either. Not as the sweet, smart, funny kid I tried to raise.”
“She’s strong, Isabel. Fuckin’ hell, she got away. And Mitzi? That kid managed to untie Veronicawhilebound, and had the wherewithal to tell her to run. Those girls are amazing, and they’ll survive. Mitzi’s probably trying to Nancy Drew her way out of there right now.”
Isabel’s laugh—though weak—is reassuring as fuck, and she curls her fingers around her purse strap. “The two of them read every single one of those books as a kid.Hardy Boystoo. One Christmas, they both asked for magnifying glasses, and a month or so later, when I lost my wedding ring, they turned it into a mystery they justhadto solve.”
“Did they find it?” I’m not sure I want to know. When Isabel talks about her late husband, her gaze softens, a hint of longing in her voice. I can’t compete with Tony. Not with Isabel and certainly not with Veronica. I don’t want to. But is the woman across from me even ready for a serious relationship?
“Earth to Connor…” She touches my arm, and the sparks race along my skin. “They found it under my dresser in this knot in the floorboard. After interrogating me five separate times. When had I taken it off, what was my usual routine, where had I already looked and why…” She stares out the front windshield, purses her lips, and swallows so hard, I can hear it. “They were twelve. And when I told Veronica I couldn’t put the ring back on, it broke her a little.”
A piece of my heart cracks and bleeds for the anguish written all over Isabel’s face. “How long had it been?”
“Four years. She didn’t speak to me for days.” A tear shimmers on her cheek in the late morning sun, and I reach over and capture it with my thumb.
“What do you need? Right now. Tell me and it’s yours.” My knuckles crack as I ball my hands into fists. Ihatefeeling this helpless. I care about this woman, and she’s hurting.
“I’m fine.” She sniffles, straightens her shoulders, and forces a smile. “We can go in. I want to see where you live.”
We’re not done with this conversation. Because the longer I spend with her, the more I think I might want a life with her, and I need to know if she feels the same.
“How long have you lived here?”Isabel asks after I flip both locks on the door and arm my security system.
“Three months. Why?” Dropping my keys on the counter, I open my fridge and pull out a carton of orange juice and a container of yogurt.
“Because this place looks like it could be on the apartment building’s rental brochure. A recliner, a TV, coffee table…all of five books on the shelf, and absolutely no personal touches at all.”
I shrug, even though she’s right. “Transferred from the Dallas field office to Austin following my boss. I wasn’t even out of the hospital when I asked him to put my paperwork in. We’ve been friends for years, and I thought…maybe it’d be easier to come back if I were still working for him. I couldn’t pack a damn thing, so I hired movers. Almost all my shit’s in storage somewhere.”
