Before I can even ponder that ridiculousness, I spot my cousin two blocks away.
Does no one sleep anymore?
Roman tries his best to stay hidden, but working in the field is not his specialty.
After my father passed away, Roman’s mom, my aunt Vivi, fought tooth and nail to gain primary custody of me. Apparently, my mother agreed—for a fee—so I grew up with cousins who were more like brothers—and I remember none of it.
A few moments later, my passenger door opens, and he leans down, wearing a sad excuse for a grin.
Good, he should feel guilty for the shit he pulled today.
I move the stinky casserole to the back seat. My car smells like tuna now.
“I didn’t even startle you?” he jokes while sliding into the seat.
“Not even close, man. I saw you round the corner at the stop sign. You’re the least stealthy operative we have.” It’s not true, but he deserves to take some shit right now.
He chuckles and shuts the door of the nondescript Honda I’ve parked outside of Honeybee’s home.
I’ve memorized every word of her file over the last hour. No matter how much I want to, I can’t deny that Clover Danforth is someone… She’s probably the little girl assaulting my mind with smiles and bumblebees since she grew up at Roots of Salvation too.
I refuse to look at Roman, even though I can feel his gaze boring holes into the side of my face.
“You should have told me,” I say in warning. It’s late, I’m irritated, and my focus is on the woman who keeps sticking her nose to her windows.
“Why does Clover have bulletproof glass?” I ask. “Something’s chasing this woman, but there are no clues in her file.”
Roman’s usually more thorough than that.
“Best I can tell,” he says, “she’s paranoid. Something from her past spooked her bad enough to carry over into adulthood. Seems she’s always been this way. Well, as long as anyone around here has known her.”
I hold up the file that Rip gave me when I arrived.
“Something like Roots of Salvation?”
Roman nods, and I finally turn drawing my glare his way.
“You should have told me,” I say again.
“It’s taken us a long time to find her, Valen.” He sighs, and I feel the pain he holds in his chest—it’s a sadness they all hold for me. “Clover disappeared the same night Mom found you being beaten at ROS.”
He grips the back of his neck. “Then your doctor kept telling us that introducing traumatizing information could hurt youmore, but I don’t know. It didn’t feel right. After Mom died, we found a Clover clue and decided to act by reaching out to Greyson. We thought if we got close to him professionally, we could get a better read on Clover, you know? Find out if she’s the one we’ve been looking for. But that fucker turned us down every chance he got until his circumstances changed and he needed our services.”
Roman turns his attention to Clover’s home. “Every year, we’ve gone back to your specialist, and every year it’s the same thing. Your memories are there. They’re locked away. I was hoping?—”
“You were hoping what?” I bark. “That one look at this mystery woman would bring all my memories flooding back? Did you even think about what that would do to me? To her?”
“Yes. No. Well, maybe. I don’t know.” He side-eyes me. “Did it work?”
Frustration burns the acid in my gut. “I got flashes of a child—of her, I think. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“According to her sealed adoption files, she ran away from the cult the same night Mom rescued you.”
I grip the steering wheel so tightly that the cheap vinyl cracks. I still have guilt over my aunt being the one to find me—battered, broken, and on the brink of death.
It must have been traumatizing for her too.
I suck in air through my nose.
