Page 16 of Wild Card
He stretches, and heads for his car.
I need to clear my head. I walk past a trash can and throw out the ruined panties. Christ.
When I found my uncle on top of her, I’d felt a surge of protective rage that nearly overwhelmed me. He’s lucky I didn’t murder him then and there. And then when she looked at me with those same fear-filled eyes?
But how could she not paint the two of us with the same brush? I haven’t done enough to help her.
But I’m afraid of what I’ll do if I let my more primal instincts take over.
I’ll kill my uncle for sure, but I’d hate myself for it even if he deserves it because of what it would do to Nonna. And my rage won’t make Catriona any safer either, not from Freddie or his people. I have to keep it together and get us all out of this in one piece.
It doesn’t change what I need to get done—we need that money. But I don’t trust Lorenzo to keep his word, not when he’s back to using, so I have to make sure he has no access to her.
With that in mind, I make a trip to the hardware store, and then to a department store with self-checkout lines so no one will see me buying women’s clothing. I pay cash. Someone must be looking for her. Her brothers, I’m sure, and I don’t want to leave any kind of trail. Do anything out of the ordinary. When I get back to the house, I change the locks on the attic door. I knock quietly, and when Catriona doesn’t answer, I go inside.
She’s passed out on that Godawful mattress, cuddled under my shirt. It swamps her slender frame. That protective urge rises and I have to take a deep breath. This is still the daughter of the man who killed my parents. I can’t let her go. The stakes are too high. It won’t help her. Being smart and strategic hopefully will.
I touch her arm gently. She’s cool and clammy despite the heat.
She gasps and bolts awake. The fear in her eyes makes me want to punch Lorenzo again. She blinks a few times and licks her lips, relaxing when she sees it’s me and not my uncle.
It feels good when she seems less afraid. I don’t want her to be afraid of me.
“My father?” She asks, her voice small. “Has he been in touch?”
“No.” I take her in. She’s covered in cuts and bruises, her lip swollen from where Lorenzo struck her again today. Her eyes have lost some of their brightness, and she seems hazy and confused.
“We need to get you cleaned up. Have you eaten, Beauty?”
She looks at the bag of food next to her, and then back at me, but doesn’t reply.
“I changed the locks on the door. Lorenzo can’t get in here anymore unless I’m with him.”
Her eyelids lower in a half blink. Her makeup has run down her face giving her a disturbing, hollowed out gaunt look.
“I’m going to run a bath. I’ll wait outside the bathroom door in case you need help.”
I set up some toiletries for her. Probably nothing fancy like she’s used to, just whatever girly shit I could find at the drug store.
She doesn’t move.
“I have some clothes for you too.”
What else does she want from me? I told her why she needs to stay. It’s for her own good. And for my family’s.
“Do you want me to wait outside the attic door?”
She murmurs something I can barely hear. I lean closer.
“I can’t stand up.”
Fuck. That’s not good.
I help her sit up and open the bottle of Pedialyte I’d bought. Lorenzo had taught me to drink this for bad hangovers. Does he drink it after his coke-fueled benders too? How long has he been doing drugs again? I’ve been so busy with the bakery construction that I didn’t notice. Drug use had gotten him in huge trouble when he was younger, and it was only because of his father’s intervention that he didn’t end up in prison.
I move Catriona’s heavy hair from her face and help her take a few sips.
She finishes about a third of the bottle, and she seems a little better. Slipping one arm under her knees and the other behind her back, I carry her to the bathroom. I can’t think about how I like seeing her in my shirt.
