Page 50 of Absolution

“Sweetheart! You have made it my business.”

“Can’t— breathe,” she gasps.

I ease a little on the pressure, but she’s going nowhere until she explains. “Well?”

She swallows, and her soulful eyes nearly do me in. A part of me just wants to caress the tears off her cheeks and let her get on with her life. I do see the appeal. I have no problems understanding why Christian got so obsessed with her. She’s strong, intelligent, brave, and so fucking beautiful she almost burns my retinae, and she doesn’t even know it.

“I don’t know how to explain it.” Her lower lip trembles.

“Keep it simple.”

“He found me. We fought. Then we didn’t, and…”

“And?”

“We almost found… something… again. Between us. Then Cecilia got ill, we had no way of getting out of there unless on foot. He fell. I didn’t hurt him, but I feel like I’m to blame anyway.”

“Funny, that’s how I feel too. If you hadn’t run, none of this would have happened.”

Her expression turns fearful. “I didn’t know.”

I remove my hand, take a step back and regard her.

Her hand flies up to her throat. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“Where’s Cecilia.”

“With my mom.”

“And where is Mom?” I ask silkily.

She stares at me and snaps her mouth shut.

“Never mind. We’ll find her.”

Kerry darts forward and grips my shirt. “No, please! Don’t hurt her!”

I take her little hands and bend her clutching fingers until she is forced to let go. I keep her hands in mine, holding tight, a little too tight from the wince on her face.

“Miss Jackson. From now on you stay in town. If I come knocking, you open, if I tell you to come here, you’ll get your fucking ass here, if I tell you to jump, you jump. Are we clear? And no hiding the child. She’s a Russo. You’re nobody, but young Cecilia is family, and the child of my nephew. That means a lot to me.”

She’s not nobody. A kid needs their mother. I was forced to learn that a long time ago, first when I lost my own, and then again when a surprise pregnancy gave me David. Kerry doesn’t need to know that, though. I prefer a healthy dose of fear.

“You’re a monster,” she whispers.

I laugh. “You’ve learned.”

She bows her head, her shoulders slumping in defeat. It’s an unexpectedly saddening sight, watching the fight drain out of this strong woman.

“Can I go?” she asks weakly.

I throw out my hand toward the door, following her as she takes a few quick strides toward it, so eager to flee.

“I’ll be in touch,” I say as I pull out the key and unlock it.

“I bet,” she mutters.

There it is again, her defiance. Temporarily down, but not defeated. I like it.

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