“I took a bullet in the stomach to prove my loyalty. Staying in the hospital for almost a year with your team doubting you tends to make you a bit testy,” he joked, not fooling her.
“Don’t you have any family?” she asked, leaning against him as the horse slowly walked to the opposite end of the field. Jameson guided the horse to a farmhouse and tied him to the shaded tree.
“Welcome to my home,” he said, helping her down.
“Oh, Jameson. It’s beautiful. You can add a garden over there,” she said, pointing to a blank piece of grassy area. “Two rocking chairs will fit on the porch. Then you can sit out here in the evening and enjoy the peace.”
“Maybe I need you to decorate the place,” he teased as they climbed the steps.
He opened the door, allowing her inside his new place.
“You said you moved to a cabin. I pictured a rustic log house with a bed and fireplace,” she said, glancing around the empty area.
“I haven’t gotten around to furnishing it,” he said, watching her peek into the empty rooms.
Caroline giggled. “You have a sleeping bag in the bedroom. I hope you plan to add more.”
Grinning, he leaned against the wall. “I need to make a trip to Corpus Christi and visit some furniture stores.”
Making a face, she glanced at him. “You need one of those long farmhouse tables right here,” she said, walking to the center of the kitchen. “Then, you can go to a thrift store or flea market and find pint and quart jars for sweet tea. Maybe a milk pitcher for the table. Make sure to get a comfortable couch where you can stretch your legs. You’re a big guy. It’ll probably take a good-sized one,” she said, tapping her lips, considering the possibilities. “A nice leather recliner can sit in the corner for game days. Maybe a softer chair over there to separate the rooms.”
“You have a good eye. What about the bedrooms?” he asked, regarding her animated imagination.
“Your bedroom faces the east. You’ll want room-darkening blinds for the long hours you’ve spent on the job. But a lace topper can soften the design. A bedspread with blue flowers can make it feel homey. It’s too bad you don’t have a small porch to sit on and open those windows onto patio doors. Then you can watch the sun rise.”
“You bring up an excellent point.”
She walked to the other side of the house and entered the next bedroom. “Keep this room warm and natural with white and beiges. It’ll make anyone who stays here feel welcome.”
“This laundry room and pantry don’t do it. It’s too narrow. Your pantry is too small. Take out the wall and expand it. Then you can add shelves and cabinets. Your laundry room can be set in the mud room area. Add a small addition for your coats and boots.”
Jameson chuckled. “You have it all figured out. I thought the sleeping bag added some character.”
She smiled. “This place feels special, and you fit in it. I can see you here.”
Jameson saw them there. He saw her in the softer recliner, reading a book. He envisioned her sitting opposite him on the balcony off his bedroom, enjoying a cup of coffee. In fact, he imagined her everywhere.
“You never answered me, you know,” she said, walking around the empty living room.
“About what?” he asked.
“Do you have any family?”
“No. None, I wish to claim,” he said, angrily. “What about you?”
Caroline shook her head. “When you go after the traffickers, do you arrest everyone involved in selling a person?”
“We try to catch everyone. Sometimes, we have to let the ringleader move around a few times before we can arrest him. Do you remember someone responsible for your kidnapping?”
“I recall it every day. My father worked for a businessman in Corpus Christi. He worked as an accountant for the company. One day, my dad returned home, highly irritated. The complete opposite of his usual self. My mom kept asking him what happened, and he refused to tell her. Dad shut himself in his office, and we heard him arguing with someone. When he cameout, he seemed uneasy. The next day, I went off to classes and planned to meet my friends. My mother called and said I needed to return home immediately. I rushed home, thinking something happened to my father.”
Jameson paused. His gut churned as if warning him. He disliked where this story was headed.
“When I entered the house, my parents sat on the couch, and three men surrounded them. I recognized the man as my dad’s boss. My mother crossed the room and grabbed me, placing herself in front of me, telling me not to say a word. The man turned a gun on my mother and shot her in front of me. My father rushed to protect me while I knelt to help my mother. The man shot him in both knees. His lackeys grabbed me and put me in a car, taking me to his mansion. He sold me to Cain a year later.”
Jameson listened, feeling a dreaded knot twisting in his stomach. “Do you recall his name. I can have Julio track him down.”
“I’ll never forget it. His name was James Stanton,” she whispered.
