Page 51 of Fast Kill

Where to start? There were so many things he wanted to know about her. And the way she’d just hugged the Sudoku books to her chest, like they were the most precious gift anyone had ever given her, had made his heart clench. “How did you wind up in foster care? I’ve been wondering about it since you told me.”

She made a face. “It’s kind of a long story. My parents were both addicts, but functioning ones. They were able to hide the worst of it, so no one really knew how bad it was, and they’d cut contact with their families years before. It wasn’t until I was in fourth grade that the teachers started to notice little signs. Me joining the breakfast program and other children sharing their lunches with me.

“My clothes didn’t fit right and my grooming and hygiene were substandard. Some days I’d miss school completely. My teacher called in a social worker, who came to the house to investigate. The police came and took my dad away for a few days. Things improved for a while, but then my mom died of a heroin overdose when I was ten.”

She drew in a deep breath and picked at an invisible piece of lint on her pants. “After that, it got really bad. My dad couldn’t handle it, let alone suddenly being a single parent. After an incident one night at our apartment, the neighbors intervened. The police took me away and I was put into foster care.”

“What do you mean, ‘incident’?”

“Abuse,” she said without elaborating.

He could read between the lines well enough. “God, that’s so shitty. I’m sorry.”

She nodded, was quiet a moment before continuing. “It was hard. I was placed in two different homes within that first six months.”

“Is that when you met Dillon?”

“Yes. He’d been placed into that home about a year before me. Our foster father’s wife had died just after Dillon had come there. It was like history repeated itself. Frank started drinking more and more. We learned to stay out of his sight when he was drunk, because he got mean.”

Logan didn’t like where this was going, but he had to know. It would drive him crazy, wondering. “Was he abusive?”

“Very. Dillon always got the worst of it, because he used to put himself in Frank’s path to shield me. A few times he took a beating for something I’d done.” She glanced at him. “So he wasn’t a bad guy back then. He protected me as much as he could.”

So many pieces of the puzzle fit together now. He understood why she was so conflicted about the situation with Dillon. And it suddenly made sense why she was so rigid and orderly about everything in her life. She’d had zero control over anything in her life as a child, and now clung to every last measure of it she could get because it made her feel safe. Damn, he had even more respect for her now, and he hadn’t thought that was possible.

“Why didn’t your social worker get involved, and get you both out of that house?” he asked.

“One did, eventually. Janet. She’s the one we both kept in touch with over the years. Dillon had already left, but I got her in touch with him.” She paused a beat. “She gave Dillon my number and address last week, not realizing she might be putting me at risk.”

He decided to leave that one alone for now. “Did Frank go to jail?”

“No. Because he was a cop, and the judge felt that his service to the community outweighed everything else. Things were different back then.”

He shook his head in disgust. “That’s fucked up.”

“Yep. I lived with Janet for a while until I got a housing subsidy from the government. I was old enough to look after myself. I worked part time after school, saved up my money to help ends meet, and took out a student loan to go to college.”

He shook his head at her in wonder, even more amazed at the person she’d become. Given her background, the odds said she should be an addict or a drunk. “You’re an inspirational success story. Most people who go through something like that would crumble.”

And now he understood why his size might trigger her. She’d been abused by her father, then a cop of all people when she was just a kid. It made him livid.

“I was tempted to, plenty of times. I guess in the end, I’m just too stubborn to give in. I didn’t want to end up like my parents, or Frank. It’s also why I joined the DEA. Drugs took so much from me, and I want to help stop it from happening to anyone else. Even if it’s only by crunching numbers,” she added with an ironic grin.

He lifted a hand and brushed a lock of hair back from her temple. “Sometimes crunching numbers is what it takes to convict the bad guys.”

“Yes. True.”

Logan hated that she’d gone through so much trauma in her childhood, and wished he could take her mind off everything and get her out of here for a little while. A change of scenery might be just what she needed. She wasn’t under protective custody, so as long as the agency knew where she was and that he’d take precautions with her, it shouldn’t be a problem. And her boss had told him he wanted her to take time off, so…

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked.

She gave him a frown, as though the answer was obvious. “Work.” She gestured to the files stacked on the table. “I’m slowly but surely making my way through all the banking info, figuring out who’s who with the cartel investors.”

“Can you take a few hours off? You must have others helping you with the workload.”

Her eyebrows drew together. “Why do you ask?”

“I want to take you out for the day.” To get out of the city and do something fun that she’d never done before. To spend time alone with her and see where this thing between them would go.

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