“Do you think he was there the night your mother disappeared?” He steps closer and kneels in front of me, taking my hands in his and peering into my eyes. “Think, wee lass. Wrack that bonnie brain of yours and see if he’s in there.”
I close my eyes and try to recall what I can from the night, but it’s too hazy. The memories fade like a fart I’ve held in too long. Maybe it works the same way. Maybe I’ve hoarded these memories for so long that my body has absorbed them into my bloodstream to be parted out and forgotten.
My eyes pop open. “I had an upset stomach after eating the popcorn. My mother was worried that they’d doused the kernels with turmeric to enhance the color. That’s why I was anxious when we first got to the popcorn event.”
“That would explain how he knew about your allergy.”
“It all makes sense,” I whisper. “If he’d been following us around and hunting my mother, he’d have heard all of that. When she told me about the cars, the turmeric allergy...Aven, he was there.”
“Aye, lass. I think so too.”
When he smiles up at me, I almost feel bad for throwing a fit earlier. Almost, but not quite. But it’s not really fair to him.
I blow out a breath. “I’m sorry for how I acted earlier. It just brought up a lot of emotion. All these years, I’ve been told that my mother abandoned me, that she just wanted to get rid of me. When I was scared and I looked and you weren’t there?—”
My voice catches on a lump of emotion, but I swallow it. No more crying.
“Lass, look at me,” he whispers.
Against my will, my eyes jump to his. His dark irises draw me in until I feel like I’m under some sort of spell. The anger dissolves further as he licks his lips and speaks with such a husky whisper that I fear my panties will melt.
“I will never abandon you. That is a promise. For as long as you are under my care, I will do whatever it takes to protect you.”
The bubble pops when I’m reminded that I’m still a job to him. I’m still “under his care.”
I’m still a paycheck.
I pat his hand and offer the warmest smile I can muster. “I know you will. I just have to accept that I’m not as strong as I pretend to be. Aven, I need your help. Desmond has to pay for whatever he’s done to my mother.”
“Aye, I’m way ahead of you. I’ll hunt him down and take care of it right away.”
I hold up a hand. “No, not yet. For starters, I want to be the one to kill the piece of shit. I also want a full confession about my mother before he dies.”
He lets out a low whistle and rises to stand. “That’s a tall order for a wee lass such as yourself. Confessions from men of our ilk might require a little torture. Do you have the stomach for it?”
“No clue,” I say with a shrug of my shoulders. “I’ve never tortured anyone before.”
He winks at me, and my heart stops. “Then I think I know what we should do to pass the time. Give me a tick to speak to Jim.”
The golf cart stops and spits us out in front of the circus tent. Aven steps down first, then turns and offers his hand. I nibble the inside of my cheek to stifle a smile as I slide my fingers against his warm palm.
As he helps me off the seat and through the entrance gate, I can’t help but reflect on the change I’ve seen within him. I can’t say that I mind it, but it’s kind of throwing me for a loop here. He’s been softer in both the way he speaks and the way he approaches me. I’ve caught that look in his eyes, too. The same one I saw in the simulation. And now, he’s showing genuine care for me as he leads me into the circus tent.
If I’d known opening up to someone about my mother would have brought me closer to them, I’d have done it so much fucking sooner. Again, I’m paying my therapist entirely too much money. Take it from Quinn Parker. If you have a miserable, shitty life, just go to a murder retreat and become a serial killer. Fucking one of them is optional, but I highly recommend it.
A pit forms in my stomach as I immediately think of Green Guy. We aren’t exclusive or anything like that. I don’t even know his name, for fuck’s sake, yet I feel an attachment to him. I also feel a gnawing guilt for harboring this nagging crush on Aven. Is it really so wrong to admit that I haven’t squashed these silly feelings?
It certainly doesn’t feel very good.
The icky feeling fades as I slide my hand into my pocket and feel the tiny cell phone. This is nothing that can’t be cleared up with a little communication. I’ll be honest with Green Guy. If my desire to explore something with Aven would make him uncomfortable, then I’ll keep it platonic with my guard dog. If Green Guy is open to letting me explore other avenues...
Now I just need to sneak away long enough to figure this out.
I glance up at Aven, then at our surroundings. A blinking sign points the way toward the restrooms, and a metaphorical light bulb clicks on over my head. I grab Aven’s sleeve and give it a tug.
“Hey, I really gotta piss,” I whisper. My typical bathroom habits make this lie seem like a truth. Being cursed with a Barbie bladder isn’t the worst, I guess.
He stops walking and looks around. “I think I saw some restrooms over there. Would you feel better if I waited just outside your stall?”
