Page 1 of Cruel Savior

Chapter One

Amanda

When life goes to hell,itreallygoes to hell. And then it kicks you in the lady balls.

I sat staring out over the pool, unseeing the crystal-clear blue water or the way the rare winter sunshine reflected across it. I was lost deep in my thoughts of self-pity and worthlessness.

It had been weeks since my return, and I still didn't have a damned clue as to what came next.

"Are you just going to sit there again all day? You do realize your behavior is pretty pathetic, right?"

I didn't bother to look up at my latest stepmother. What was she? The second or the third since I'd left home as a teenager? I couldn't keep track. Hell, why bother?

Only, this one seemed hellbent on getting into my business.

Not that she was wrong. It was pathetic to sit in my father's house day after day and do nothing. Although didn't I deserve some time off after what I'd been through? Where was my pat on the back for a job well done? I shook my head. My thoughts were getting deeper and darker by the day.

No government agency was going to thank me ever again. My role as an undercover operative had come to a whimpered end after I’d take a bullet to the chest. My boss, however, had made it a point to remind me on my way out the door, that anyone else would have gone to jail for the shit I pulled.

They didn't know the half of it. Nor did they care to bother finding out. Everything with them was by the book, and I'd pretty much thrown the book in their faces when I got myself trapped in a mafia-controlled snare.

Hell, I might still be there if the man in charge hadn't been killed.

"Mind your own business, uhh—" Fuck. My mind drew a blank. What was her name?

"Theresa," she shrieked. "I've told you like sixteen times. Are you brain damaged or something?"

I blinked, still not bothering to turn in her direction and give her my full attention. I was something alright.

"Excuse me, Ms. Turner."

We both turned to James, my father's butler. He stood there holding a black cardboard box in his hand. The man was old as dirt and had been with our family for as long as I could remember. His gaze met mine instead of hers, and I recognized his look of sympathy. But why? It's not as if he had any details about what happened to me. No one did. Sure, some of them thought they knew me. But they were wrong.

"A package just came for you."

"Ooh, a package?" Theresa nearly squealed. No doubt she thought whatever inane bullshit she'd ordered from Amazon this time had arrived. However, just before she could grab the box from James, he pulled it away from her.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I meant it's for Ms. Turner, not Mrs. Turner."

I snickered, and my stepmother turned to me with a vicious glare. "Don't be a bitch, A-Man-Da." Before I could decide if I wanted to respond or not, I didn't, she turned back to James and yanked the box from his hand. "What does she care about a package? She hasn't moved from that chair in hours."

James looked at me apologetically and I gave him a slight nod. It didn't matter. I wasn't expecting anything, and if it kept Theresa from bitching at me, she could open the package and have at it.

He turned and disappeared as quietly and as quickly as he'd arrived. I had to admit that I admired that about him. The reason he'd lasted all these years was his ability to blend into the background. My father was rather crotchety about his staff, but James, he seemed to like. Or at least tolerate.

I turned back to the pool and beyond. Here in Washington, it rained more often than it didn't, so it was a necessity to have an indoor pool. However, my father was an outdoorsman at heart, so the room that housed the pool was completely made of glass. It provided the perfect view of his vast property and the snowcapped cascade mountains in the background.

I hated to admit it, but I was willing to tolerate the latest stepmother because of this. My home. As long as I didn't leave the property, I could breathe freely. But beyond the gates that kept us secure, there were constant memories that threatened my sanity.

"Jesus, this package looks soaking wet and banged all to hell. I swear, no one cares about anyone's property but their own. The shipping company could obviously care less about causing any damage."

Theresa rambled, and while I heard her words, I did my best to tune her out.

I'd grown up here on the outskirts of Sultan, Washington. A tiny town that may only be an hour away from Seattle but felt like an entirely different world. Life moved at a different pace here and everyone knew everyone. Which meant nothing was really private here. My father had inherited a fortune from his father after the decades of the lumber boon, and the Turner family had pretty much secured their place as the first family of Sultan.

And while my father ran a decent sized ranch here, the Turner fortune continued to grow mostly because he had a passion for investments. As in, he owned freaking everything. Or at least that's the way it seemed.

From the—

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