Page 74 of The Pretender

“We both know blood ties do not guarantee people get along.” Harris had unwanted personal experience on that front. He’d seen the same loss of control when his father found out about his mother’s secret life.

He’d morphed into a different man, a violent and bitter one, in the space of a few hours. The news hit him and changed everything. He’d prided himself on maintaining the perfect family portrait to the world. The right wife. A child he could mold. Then the bottom fell out. He’d been living a lie. Not only did that upend his world, it made him a laughingstock.

It also made himthe guy who should have known. There were endless debates, including by the police and prosecutors, about his dad’s complicity. Harris knew his father was in the dark. He also knew that more than once his mother had used him, her own son, as cover while she stole items.

Learning those secrets changed everything. He’d funneled the shock into figuring out why she’d done it, which meant trying it himself. His father retreated into a hard shell. He lashed out. He called her names. He threatened to kill her.

That profound loss of perspective never corrected itself. The more his father learned, the more he hated Harris’s mom. Harris sensed Stephen had gotten sucked into that same vicious whirlpool of hate. It didn’t excuse what he did to Gabby. Nothing could. But it did make Harris worry that Gabby would never move out of her uncle’s target.

“It’s as if he no longer views her as human.” That was the sickest part to Harris. The one that made him fear for her safety and want to convince Stephen, with fists if necessary, to back down. “You’d think he’d hold it together since there isn’t any evidence.”

“There are statements from some of her supposed friends that say she planned her kidnapping. But there’s nothing that suggests she killed Tabitha.”

Harris instinctively knew there never would be. Gabby might be flawed and human, but she’d loved and protected her sister the best she could.

That led Harris right back to the problem family member. “What’s the uncle’s money situation?”

“Now, that’s interesting. It is a bit of a question mark because he and the wife are negotiating a divorce settlement. No prenup.” Damon moved the files around until he found court documents that were filed by Stephen’s wife but never served. “Rich people, man. Go figure.”

“Let’s dig in.” Harris had an incentive. He not only wanted Gabby safe, he wanted to go to her. Tonight, soon... now. That meant more work and he was ready to take it on. “You better make more coffee.”

Chapter 20

Gabby was restless. She wanted to blame the frantic roller-coaster ride she’d been on for the emotional fallout, but she worried there might be a much simpler cause—Harris. He hadn’t come back to the guesthouse yet.

She’d spent so much of her adult life alone. She had friends and people she hung out with at different jobs. But the deep, could-say-anything meaty relationships always failed her. Or she failed them. The idea of getting that close repelled her.

The people who were supposed to love her unconditionally had put limits on their feelings for her. She disappointed them. They didn’t believe her and demanded she win back their love. She had to prove herself. Only Tabitha had provided a link to the life she once had, and Gabby had cherished that until she lost that, too.

Her entire life had been about loss. Loss of people. Loss of trust. Loss of what she knew and believed in. She developed a hard coating to survive. Accepted what happened and her role in it. Tried to push through, and usually could, but some days the harshness of it all dragged her down. Best her into submission.

With everything she’d been through and handled, the idea of being reliant on someone else in order to get a solid night’s sleep struck her as more than a little annoying. It wasn’t that she’d somehow surrendered her independence over the course of a few days, but she did enjoy being with him. He made her smile. She’d laughed for the first time in what felt like forever. The sex was amazing but the comfort, the sensation of mattering to someone else, felt even better.

But the bed truly sucked. She kicked off the covers, letting her heels bounce against the mattress, and looked around the dark bedroom. The storm hadn’t blown in yet but it was headed for them. The breeze had kicked up and moisture hung in the air. When she’d walked back to the guesthouse earlier a fine mist filled the air. She towel-dried her damp skin and hair.

She loved the moodiness of this sort of weather. Dark clouds. A coolness tucked under the humidity. The sound of rain pounding on a roof. Everything washed away and new again.

She sat up, letting her feet dangle over the side of the bed. Pressed her toes against the hardwood floor. The idea of changing out of her soft PJ shorts combination didn’t hold any appeal. But maybe wandering outside, smelling the early start of the storm and walking in the soft wind would clear her head enough to be able to drift off.

One benefit of living on an island was supposed to be privacy. There were people around but not many. Still, she decided to throw on a sweater and reached for the one over the back of the chair. Harris’s scent hit her immediately. She slipped it on and the edge of the cotton dropped down to her upper thighs. The too-long sleeves hid her hands. She wrapped the oversized garment around her, pretending it still held the warmth of Harris’s body, as her hand touched the door handle.

She stepped onto the icy-cold patio stones and hissed. The wind whipped around her and tunneled up her loose shorts. The mist still lingered but it didn’t soak her.

The practical side of her brain clicked to life. She should go in and get dressed or go to bed. She skipped both options. With quiet steps she walked around to the side of the guesthouse that faced the water. The journey chilled every part of her, but she didn’t go back in. Didn’t want to.

Closing her eyes, she inhaled the familiar welcoming scent of water and freshly mowed grass. The storm likely would erase the last of the fiery residue that had settled over the island. The smoke had long ago cleared but the stank muskiness lingered. Soon that would pass, too.

The wind carried her hair, making it dance as it blew across her face. Standing there she heard the rustling of tree branches and the lapping of the water against the coastline. Tabitha used to talk about standing on the second-floor balcony and letting the cold air wash over her. Her voice would carry this sound of awe.

Gabby understood. It filled her with wonder to be alone while nature churned around her. It humbled her even as it filled her with a strange sense of power.

She put her arms out to the sides and let the wind catch the sweater. The material flapped against her chest and sides, not providing any protection or heat. Tipping her head back, she faced the sky with closed eyes and waited for the first drops of harder rain to fall.

The rustling gave way to an odd crunching. Before she could open her eyes, fingers clamped down on her wrist. The punishing hold had her crying out in pain. A mix of surprise and fear flooded her. She opened her mouth to scream for help and a hand slapped against her lips. A giant weight pressed against her back. She kicked out, trying to nail her attacker in the shin, but when her bare feet met bone a shudder ran through her.

She threw her elbows and tried to reach behind her and punch. The move twisted her shoulder to the point of breaking but she did not stop. She waited for a knife’s edge to slice through her or a hard knock to the head to drop her to the ground. That was how her sister died. In a violent mix of stabbing and punching.

She refused to go out that way.

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