Page 73 of Avenging Devil: Part 1

The woman doesn’t look convinced. “Could I come in and have a chat?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Please?” She looks left and right and lowers her voice conspiratorially. “I don’t feel comfortable standing here in the hallway.”

I can understand that. Especially as I hear the heavy clump of boots coming up the stairwell. Who knows who is going to appear? My neighbours might know I have no money, but her? While she’s not overdressed, her understated clothing is smart. Easy pickings for a mugging.

As I don’t want someone from the Freedom Trail who’d helped me so much being stolen from or hurt, I close the door, undo the chain, then open it again.

She hurries in as if only too well aware of the threat she’s leaving outside.

“Thank you,” she breathes out relieved. “Do you mind if I sit down?”

Still in my pjs—I only get dressed before I leave for work—and all too conscious I must look the world’s worst mess, I want to object, but innate politeness makes me nod. She doesn’t comment or even raise an eyebrow at my appearance. If she’d challenged me, told me I hadn’t been rescued just to allow myself to go to the dogs, I probably would have reacted snappily. Instead, I wave my hand toward a chair.

Maybe tolerating her presence will force me out of my head for a while. It’s been a very long time since I last had company.

“I’m Patsy,” she says, sitting neatly with her hands folded in her lap. “And I moved to San Diego under witness protection, so I know what it’s like starting over in a new town.”

It falls into place, why she’s been sent to me. She’ll understand what it’s like to cut ties with friends and family and move to a different state. Not that after Duke chased them away I had any of the former, and the latter has disowned me. Still, the principle is there.

“Where were you from?” I ask to be polite and with little interest. “And how long have you been here?”

“Colorado. And, oh, about a year now. It’s hard, isn’t it?” She grimaces. “I had to leave my daughter and follow my son. Beth was doing okay, she’d settled down with her man, but Connor, my son, had fallen in with bad company, and even at twenty-two needed his mom to keep him on the right track. I made a rational decision to leave Beth, but absence doesn’t just make the heart grow fonder, it makes it positively ache.”

There wasn’t anyone in particular who I’d regretted having to leave. Duke had isolated me years back, and there wasn’t one member of his club I missed. But I suspect I’d feel the same in her place. Never having friends in the first place doesn’t make the loneliness any less.I miss Niran,I remind myself. Even if it was my fault he left. But my phobia of bikers is real, and always present. We could never have gotten past that.

I force myself to be friendly, an alien action for me. “It must be awful not knowing what your daughter’s doing and how she’s getting on. Have you anyway of getting news about her?”

Patsy smiles warmly. “Yeah, now I do. I talk to her and we visit each other. I’m a grandma now.”

Good for her,I think bitterly. But I’m also intrigued. “How did you manage to do that? Isn’t it forbidden or dangerous?”

“I was lucky enough to fall in with a good crowd, and the threat was removed. The man my son and I were hiding from is dead.”

How I wish the same fate for Duke. I should feel bad for wishing him six feet under, but that man hasn’t a redeeming bone in his body. As long as I live, he’ll feel I belong to him. I’m even permanently marked with his name and property patch on my body.

“Youwerelucky,” I agree, wondering who the crowd is she’s referring to, and whether they would do the same deed for me. Assassins for hire? What am I even thinking about? It’s not Duke’s demise that would bother me, it’s knowing I’d never be able to pay them. My savings wouldn’t stretch to that.

“Was it expensive?” I still find myself asking, intrigued. Then correct myself, feeling my cheeks burn red. “Oh, I’m sorry. You’re probably talking about the cops.” I flush with embarrassment, knowing my original thought was because I’d been around bikers for too long.

“What?” Then she laughs, seeming to find my erroneous mental leap amusing rather than something to question. “It cost me nothing. What they did, they did because it was right.”

My eyes widen, then narrow suspiciously.That doesn’t sound like the cops.It sounds more like my initial reaction was correct.

But if so, who does something for nothing? Not in my experience they don’t. A thought triggers more suspicions. Our discussion has verged into dangerous territory. Those words spoken to the wrong person could bring a heap of trouble down on her head. And why is she divulging so much aboutherwhen she said she’s here to talk aboutme?

I rub at my eyes which are red and sore from my habitual sorry-for-myself crying jag this morning, noting she’s not commented on the state she’s found me in. I’m obviously distressed and not coping which was what she came to check.Maybe it’s obvious?The Freedom Trail knew I was pregnant, but my baby bump has now gone. Except for some stretch marks only visible under my clothes, you’d not know I’d been with child at all. Any weight gained had been lost through me not eating properly over the past few weeks. That she’s ignoring the topic makes me suspicious and wonder if she already knows.

Could the Freedom Trail have gotten into the hospital’s databases?But why would they check? They’d done what they promised, got me to a new town, set me up with enough to get me started, and never said they’d keep tabs on me. I’m just one in a long line of people they’ve helped. I was given a new chance in life. What I do with it is up to me.

I begin to wonder whether Patsy really is from them?

How else would she have known the password?

All my misgivings rush to the fore. My trembling hands and shaking voice betray my fear as the words tumble out. “Why are you really here, Patsy?”

Chapter Twenty-Three

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