Page 50 of Lethal Weakness

“Mr. Jack?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Go back to sleep.” I pull the door shut behind me and return to my chair, but pitter-patters follow close behind me.

“Can I sit wiff you?”

“Sure.”

She and her princess pjs crawl into my lap before resting the back of her head against my chest. “Are we having a slumber party, Mr. Jack?”

“Something like that.”

She yawns, and I tighten my arms around her so she can relax against me. I have the urge to rock her until she falls back asleep like you would an infant.

Her little delicate fingers dance over my rough knuckles, and I marvel at how fragile she is. It’s hard to believe that we all start as such helpless creatures.

It’s dawn now, and I doubt Turner will be bold enough to return in the daylight, so I let my attention drift across Avery’s face. She looks just like Linden aside from the blonde hair and green eyes. She has her mom’s petite freckle-covered nose and heart-shaped face.

Her father is an idiot for messing up his chance at a family with them, and there is no coming back from the pain he’s caused.

I would have killed him last night if it weren’t for Linden standing there. If she witnessed that side of me, she’d never forget it. I would become the monster in her eyes that I know I am.

“Hey, there you are,” Linden says sleepily from the hallway.

“Mr. Jack had a slumber party,” she tells her mom excitedly.

“Mr. Jack was here to watch over us because of the storm last night. That’s all.”

“A storm?” She asks me with a quizzical look. Thankfully, I think that means she slept through all the ruckus.

“Yeah, it was a bad one, but everything is okay now,” I assure her.

“Mommy, Mr. Jack says it’s otay now.”

“Mommy is very grateful for Mr. Jack,” she murmurs more to me than Avery.

“I hungry.” Avery hops off my lap, clearly ready to move on with her day.

“Go get something from the cabinet. I’ll make you some breakfast in just a minute.” She watches her daughter disappear into the kitchen and then watches me as I stand from my chair. “Can I offer you breakfast?”

“I need to check on things at home.”

“Things?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you ever going to tell me the truth about you?” Her voice is hopeful, but her eyes are sad. She knows the answer to her question already.

She lets me cradle her face in my hand, resting her cheek against my palm. “I hope a day comes that I can, but I’m in a little bit of quicksand right now, too.”

When my forehead touches hers, her eyes drift shut, and I know I could kiss her… God, I want to. But I don’t.

My kiss would mean so much more than the thank-you kiss she gave me last night. And having something to lose will get me killed.

* * *

“We’ve finally gotten the French translation back, and it’s given us more insight. The Scotts are harvesting vital human organs and bio matter for experimentation purposes. The parts that we intercepted on the black market were probably just the scraps.”

“They’re getting rid of the evidence by dispersing the waste?” I confirm.