“Not unless you tell me what’s going on.”
I try to think of the right words to say but they get tangled. I’ve kept them as ornaments decorating my innermost thoughts for too long; I can’t work out how to take them outside without them shattering into dust. Instead, “I’m sorry I shot you.”
He shrugs, leaning to briefly press his forehead against my scalp. “Barely felt a thing.” His face pinches together, pain and hurt and worry all mixing in a tangle. “I thought you liked me,” he mutters, the same emotions twisting through his words.
“I do like you. I like you a lot. That’s why I aimed for your leg.”
His arms snake back around me while he huffs out what might be a soft laugh.
“I’m frightened,” I admit, worried he’ll move away and whatever this opportunity is won’t come again. “All the time. I have been for so many years I don’t know how to function without being scared but sometimes it comes out in ways I don’t mean.”
“Like shooting people.”
I break into a laugh, though my eyes are slippery with tears. “Something like that.” A sigh leaks out of me. “My husband wasn’t a nice man.” His arms tighten reflexively around me, a protective gesture that makes me feel cared for without being diminished. “Our relationship got so twisted in on itself that I don’t have good instincts for how to act with people, not any longer.”
“That’s not true.”
I chew on the edge of my lip while I stare into his sincere eyes. “Maybe it’s not,” I admit. “It might be just another thing he snuck into my head while I wasn’t looking.”
“Do you want to know what I see?”
A twinge of panic runs through me, like my nerves are caught on barbed wire. But I force myself to nod.
“You’ve brave. You’re loyal. You were taking drugs into a medium-high security prison to save your son even though you must have known the risks. And do you know how I know you knew the risks?”
I give the tiniest nod and he smiles, lifting a hand to stroke my hair.
“Because you’re smart. You’re also funny, and you’re kind. I think you’re not nearly as damaged as he wants you to believe you are. Anyone would be lucky to have you in their corner and I’m so glad you tried to run my escape vehicle off the road.”
“I’m also a liar.”
He strokes the edge of my jaw with his thumb, seductive and soothing. “Aren’t we all?”
“I’m also…” But the bravery he sees in me runs out before I can put my final admission into words. My face screws up and I close my eyes, startled into reopening them when he gives me a sudden shake.
“Don’t run away from me.”
My nostrils pinch together. “I thought you wanted me to run.”
His brow creases, then his face broadcasts a brilliantly sunny smile. “Only when I have a hope of catching you. If you’re disappearing into your head, I can’t follow.”
My eyes want to flicker, drift away, hide, but I force them to stay trained on his face. “Can you untie me? I’m not good with restraints.”
He nods, turning and pulling me closer, my back facing him. A knife cuts through the rope and I heave a sigh of relief as I shake out my shoulders and massage my wrists.
“I’m sorry about this,” he says. I think for a moment he means what just happened, but he grabs the hem of my tee shirt and yanks it over my head, exposing my back to the world.
Exposing my scars.
Exposing my shame.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
KAI
Nadia has been sodetermined not to take her clothes off in front of me I knew she had something horrendous hiding under all that fabric. I thought scars, pockmarks, maybe the lasting traces of self-harm or the worst teenage tattoo in the world.
Instead, there’s a message scored into her back, each letter an inch high.
