Home > When You're Back (Rosemary Beach #11)(41)

When You're Back (Rosemary Beach #11)(41)
Author: Abbi Glines

“Thanks,” I told her, although we both knew I hadn’t planned on going anywhere. I wouldn’t be leaving Reese’s side.

Momma walked over and bent down to kiss Reese’s head, then did the same to me. “That’s a horror no girl should ever know,” she whispered.

“Makes me feel helpless,” I admitted. I wanted to fix all her problems. I wanted to make everything OK for her. But how did I fix her past?

Momma ran her hand over my hair. “You are what she needs. Don’t feel helpless. Just be here with her.”

“Done. She’s got me.”

Momma nodded, then turned and left the room.

The house was silent after she walked out. I continued to make a mental list of things that I needed to do when she was resting. I would make her world safe. I would do everything in my power and then some.

A small cry came from her lips, and I tightened my hold on her and put my mouth near her ear. “I’m here, and you’re safe. Sleep, baby.”

She calmed instantly at the sound of my voice. This was what I could do now. The rest could wait. But I’d get to it soon enough.

My world had been threatened in a second. I should have been with her. I brushed her hair out of her face and stared down at the beauty in my arms. She had faced so much pain, yet she was still just as beautiful inside. She was kind. She was honest. More important, she was mine. I’d found her. I’d found the one. The one who would change my world. Rush was right: it was all I ever wanted.

Who knew Rush Finlay could be so damn wise? He’d been the hellion rock star’s son. I’d been the good one. Yet he might have said the most honest thing anyone had ever said to me in my life.

Captain

A run-down motel on the outskirts

of Fort Worth, Texas

I’d been waiting all night. I was a man of my word. Glancing at the time on the dash of the black Escalade I was driving, I saw there were minutes left before the sun rose. I had parked around the back of the building, out of sight from the front office. Not that it mattered. The attendant on duty was an older man who had drunk a bottle of tequila last night and entertained a prostitute just before coming back to his post and promptly passing out.

I’d watched every room. Only three were occupied. Two of them were closer to the office, but neither room’s occupants had returned sober enough to be awake before noon. The motel sat on an empty strip of road, making things all the easier for me.

I grabbed the only thing I needed and stuck it into the holster hidden under my leather jacket.

Picking up the disposable, or what I referred to as a toss phone, I sent a single text:

The sun’s up.

Then I pressed Send.

Without waiting for a response, I got out of the vehicle and headed to the room I’d been watching all night. The paint was peeling from the worn door. It was number 45, but the 4 was missing. There was only faded paint where it had once been. I stepped back and, with one swift kick, opened the door.

I didn’t bother with the lights as I closed the door behind me.

“What the fuck?” a groggy voice said as the fat bastard sat up in bed.

I didn’t respond. He didn’t deserve a response. I wasn’t here to answer his questions. He was going to answer mine. I took a seat in the chair beside the window. He’d already closed the curtains, so I didn’t need to do that myself.

“I’m calling the police,” he said, his voice betraying his fear.

I took the gun from my waist and shot the phone, sending plastic pieces flying in several directions.

“Motherfucker!” the man yelled, jumping up. I was thankful he was wearing underwear and I didn’t have to see his saggy shit. “There’s a silencer on that thing,” he said. And then he recognized me. His beady eyes went wider than I thought possible as he held up both hands. “I didn’t do anything else. You said if I left, I could live. I haven’t left this hotel room.” He started rambling.

I leaned back and watched as fear began to take control of him.

“You said—” he began again.

“I said if you walked out, I’d let you see another sunrise,” I replied, then reached over and drew back one of the curtains. “There. You’ve seen it.” I let the curtain fall back into place.

“I’ll leave. I won’t come back.” He started rambling again.

I rested the gun on my knee and glared at the man who had done disgusting things he couldn’t undo. Things that made him worthless. Unforgivable. “I know you won’t come back,” I said evenly as I continued to watch him.

“She’s a liar. She was always a liar. Whatever that bitch told you, she’s lying. She stole from her mother. She broke her mother’s heart—”

“I’d stop now,” I interrupted him. I ran the tip of the gun along my jeans. “The moment you raise your voice, I’ll silence you. Permanently.”

“What do you w-w-want?” he stuttered.

“I want justice. I want Reese to live the life she deserves. I want for every dirty, disgusting fucker like you to float in your own blood. That’s all I want.”

He shook his head as he backed away from me. “She lied. Whatever she said, she lied. She’s a manipulator. She uses her body to make men do what she wants.”

“Do you know who her real father is?” I asked him, tilting my head as I memorized the fear in his eyes.

He shook his head. “No. Man knocked her momma up and ran off. I saved them. I took care of them. I was the one who kept a roof over her head. I took care of her, and she didn’t appreciate it. She expected more.” He was grasping at straws. Men who knew their breaths were limited said anything they could to save their worthless lives. I’d seen it before. I’d heard it all before.

“Why did you look for Reese? She left your home when she was sixteen.” This was something I simply wanted to know. If there was anyone else out there who needed to be stopped, I wanted to make sure it was handled. But from all the research I’d done, it was just this sick bastard.

“Her mother, she had papers with a trust fund for Reese. She never said who it was from. I didn’t recognize the name. We tried everything to cash it in, but it was impossible. We struggled to raise that girl, and she owed us. Her poor mother passed away from exhaustion. I can’t pay her medical bills—I couldn’t even give her a proper burial. That money belongs to me. Reese owes me that. She owes her mother that.”

So he knew about the trust fund. That explained it. “When did her mother die?” I asked.

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