Yet thinking about what had happened in my beautiful little store wasn’t any more comforting. What if he was right and someone was after me? I’d stopped running after the first year, refusing to allow fear to rule my mind or my decisions. But by then I’d managed to find some people who could help me create my new life.
That had made everything so much easier.
But there hadn’t been a day I hadn’t at least thought about my past and what would happen if it collided with the present. That would mean there’d be no future.
Another wave of Sinclair’s words and warnings weighed heavily on my mind.
Punished. That meant he would give me another spanking. The concept was barbaric at best, but of course he believed he owned me already.
Over my dead body.
Or his.
“You’re a very complex man,” I blurted out. While it was the truth, I doubted he wanted to hear what I had to say.
“Why do you say that?” The deep resonance of his voice sent chills.
“You went yourself to pick up Indiana, even getting his bed and food. Even his toys. Yet you almost killed one of your own men minutes later. You were surprisingly kind to me, checking on me after your bout with arrogance. Why bother trying to make breakfast? Then kidnapping me. I don’t understand your motives. Or the two sides you wear so easily like your expensive watch.”
He laughed. “I assure you if I’d wanted my Capo dead, he would be. And you of all people should know everyone has two sides.”
“I’m an open book, Sinclair. Why strangle a man who works for you, someone who obviously does your bidding without question? What terrible thing did he do to anger you so much?”
For the first time since I’d met him, he appeared uncomfortable. “I had my reasons.”
“That you won’t share with me.”
His look was harsh. “Let’s just say no one disobeys me without facing the consequences.”
It was impossible not to laugh at his words. “I’m curious, Sinclair. Have you always been so dominating? Were you the bully in the playground who couldn’t stand not getting his way?”
My comment seemed to irritate him, but I honestly didn’t care.
“Did Daddy not pay you enough attention? Maybe he didn’t attend your softball or football games. Maybe you grew up needing attention.”
His hand was tightly fisted around the steering wheel.
“What were your parents like, Josette? What kind of world did you grow up in? Were you a pampered princess? Did you have an idealistic life where Mom and Dad came home from work every day? Where they worked hard to provide you with a special room, maybe pink walls and fluffy stuffed animals? An occasional jaunt to the movies and a trip to Disneyworld? Did you enjoy hunting for the perfect Christmas tree together, singing Christmas carols and drinking hot chocolate by the fire as you hung your special stocking? And what about birthdays? Did you have a big cake and candles to blow out, making a wish that you couldn’t care less if it came true? Was that your life? It must have been since you act as if the world is basically good and with hard work and determination you can beat the odds and forge yet another idealistic life. A husband and a couple kids, a dog waiting for you at the door every night. How perfect. Take off your rose-colored glasses, Josette. That’s not reality.”
His words and questions were biting and I could tell by the sneer on his face that he’d experienced just the opposite. I couldn’t imagine what his life had been like growing up in a criminalized family. How horrible it must have been. His questions also forced me to examine my childhood, remembering the exact moment when my hopes and dreams had been shattered.
“You must hate your life. I honestly feel sorry for you. Bodyguards following you around. No privacy. No sense of security. How awful for a child.”
He laughed. “I assure you that I had an amazing childhood, Josette, so don’t feel sorry for me. I have everything I need. Now, answer the question. You are far too good for your life to be anything but what I described. But I’m curious. I need your admittance you had a Hallmark life.”
“To live vicariously through me?”
Very slowly he tilted his head toward me. The way his eyes pierced mine was gut-wrenching and thrilling.
Every chiding word annoyed me, pushed me. I didn’t want the memories. I’d worked long and hard to drive them from my mind for protection. “Do you not think that within every family there is tragedy? Sadness? Difficulties? Let me tell you, buddy, you’re wrong if you don’t. My mom and dad adored each other and yes, they made certain I had a roof over my head, food on the table, and even a few toys here and there. Maybe after what you grew up dealing with you might call it idealistic. In a way it was. We loved and protected each other. But we weren’t wealthy like you’ve obviously been all your life. My father worked his ass off to provide for our family. We had almost nothing, but we had everything. And why? Because we had love and what we thought was the ability to fight our way through anything. Together.”
I was hot, so much so I clenched my fists to keep from screaming. Why was he like this? What did he hope to accomplish? Was he just torturing me?
“You made my point,” he said gruffly.
“Your point? I don’t even know what you point is other than you’re giving yourself an excuse to be an asshole! Well, guess what? I’m here to tell you that I don’t wear rose-colored glasses,at least not any longer. They were ripped off and crushed beneath my feet the day my father was killed.”
My voice had risen substantially and I was certain the bastard would be angry with me.
