Page 47 of Assassin's Heart
Opening the door allowed the scent of tomatoes and cheese and toasty bread to flow in, but it was the sight that greeted me that made me warm—Remi, a full tray gripped in his hands. That same sense of security flowed through me as I’d had with Brooke, the rightness of having him here with me. With us.
Was it right? I’d seen firsthand what this man was capable of, but tonight I really didn’t care. I was listening to my heart, my head be damned.
“I thought you two might want some dinner.” He shifted from one foot to the next, his eyes full of… I don’t know. Something I’d never seen before, not on Remi. Something that only grew stronger when Brooke called my name.
I stepped back to let him in. “Thank you.” Why hadn’t I thought of this? I had no idea how long it had been since Brooke had a decent meal.
“Thank Abby,” Remi whispered as he passed. “She sent cookies.”
My laugh surprised me.
“Hungry, little one?” Remi asked. He crossed the room to a table in the corner, seeming oblivious to Brooke’s absolute silence and wary gaze. “I hope you like grilled cheese.”
Brooke was peeking over the blanket she’d pulled up to her face, following Remi’s every move as he began laying out the food. I watched the tension seep into his body, and that’s when I realized what I had seen earlier, flickering in his eyes—fear. Remi was afraid of a little girl.
He should be. Children cut through bullshit faster than any adult ever could, cut down to the truth of you in seconds, and they weren’t afraid to reveal whatever they discovered. I needed to keep that in mind. Brooke realizing that Remi and I were close would have been my worst nightmare until today.
Having a gun held to your daughter’s head, watching men bleed out in front of you—it all had a way of putting everything in perspective.
I crossed the room and pulled him toward the bed. “Brooke, this is my friend Remi.”
His fingers twitched against mine as he waited for her response. Brooke stared at our entwined hands for a minute, still clutching the blanket. “You came with my mommy to the bad place.”
Now it was my turn to flinch.
Remi went to his knees beside the bed. “I did. I came to help your mom.” He held out his hand. “Hi.”
The word was croaked, Remi’s uncertainty lightening my heavy heart. I laid my palm on his broad back, felt him hold his breath as Brooke made her decision. Finally one tiny hand let go of the blanket and met Remi’s. “Hi.”
“Remi brought us some food,” I said, hoping to give him a chance to breathe. “Come eat.”
Brooke eased from the bed, still a bit wary. She’d always been like me—serious, careful, but with that friendly trust most kids had. She’d seen too much, had too much done to her in the past few days for that natural openness to not be damaged. Every time I thought about it, every time I saw the fear on her face, the urge to strangle Ross with my bare hands surged inside me. And then I’d remember that I couldn’t because he was already dead, and grief would rush in to mix with the anger.
The roller coaster probably wasn’t going to stop anytime soon, for me or for Brooke.
The tomato-and-cheese goodness filling the air actually drew a growl from my stomach. I made sure Brooke had all she needed, watched for her to take her first bite, then attacked my plate. Remi watched, a soft look on his face, as he ate his own food.
“Mommy, where is Mrs. Lydia?”
I paused, my spoon halfway to my mouth. I’d never lied to my daughter, but then I’d also never told her someone she loved was dead. “Lydia hurt her head badly, baby.”
She looked up at me, eyes wide and shining, as if she knew what was coming but still had to ask. “Did the doctor fix it?”
He didn’t have a chance.“They couldn’t fix it, Brooke.”
“She died?” A tear slid down Brooke’s face.
I reached for her, took a deep breath. “She did. I’m so sorry, but she did.”
“Did Uncle Ross die?”
He had told her he was her uncle? “He was hurt very badly too.”
“By the bad man.”
“Yes.”
She pushed her spoon around in her soup. “Uncle Ross told me to be very quiet and we’d be okay. We had to stay quiet or the bad man would get angry.”
