Page 88 of Capo

“Where did you go, Kerry? We looked for you.”

“I moved to Chicago.”

“I know that.” My impatience grows, crawling in me like slithering snakes. “Go on.”

“Canada.”

I twitch and stare at her. I don’t believe in coincidence. “Where. In. Canada?” I say slowly through clenched teeth, heat rising inside like a cloud of rage. If she has something to do with Christian’s situation, I swear to all that’s holy—

“A-a little town called Middlebro,” she stutters, no doubt sensing that I’m ready to pounce.

“You fucking bitch!” I snarl and grab her by the throat, pushing her back against the backrest.

Kerry cries out and clutches at my hand, but she’s like a mouse in the hands of a lion and has no leverage. Her face turns beet read. “Please,” she mouths. “It’s Christian, he’s—” She swallows, wincing with pain.

I snatch back my hand and she darts up, taking several steps back, toppling the chair. “You’re all the same!” she cries, tears streaming down her cheeks, her hand flying to cover the reddened skin on her throat. “You’re all assholes.”

“I have never claimed to be anything else, Miss Jackson. And neither has my nephew, or anyone else in my family. We haven’t gotten to where we are by being cuddly. Now what about Christian.”

“He’s dead!” she screams. “He died!”

I go still. What makes her think that? She is very close to having been right, but how is she involved? “Go on.”

“He found us,” she whispers as new tears drip down her cheeks.

“And?”

Kerry chews on her plump bottom lip. Her nostrils flare as she stares at me. “He… Cecilia got ill and we had to walk to get her to the hospital. He fell into a ravine, a river, and disappeared.”

“Why did you walk?”

“Everything went wrong! There was a storm. The road was blocked.” Her eyes turn distant, as if she’s not in the room anymore. “We had to.” Her last words are nothing but a hoarse whisper, filled with pain.

“So let me get this straight. You fled from nothing, settled in fucking nowhere, my nephew found you, and because of you, he’s now dead? Did you kill him? Push him? Did you find a convenient opportunity to get rid of your stalker?”

Her green eyes widen. “N—no! It wasn’t like that!”

“Then what was it like?”

“That’s none of your business!”

I close the distance between us in a fraction of a second and push her until I slam her into the bookshelf, my hand around her throat again. “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 expressive eyes nearly do me in. 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.

“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.”

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