Page 40 of Desire Me
She opened her eyes. Mourning would have to come later. “Do I have any other family?”
“You do.” King again. He glanced toward Saint, and the two shared a look Rae couldn’t read.
“What is it?”
Saint jerked his chin toward Elliot. “Grab some plates? Let’s get the food set up; then we’ll go through the next part.”
They wouldn’t let her help with anything—Saint even fixed her plate, leaving Rae to stew about what could possibly be going on. Was the rest of her family dead too? Was that it? Were they reluctant to tell her she was utterly alone in the world? A sudden spark of terror filled her, the sense that she was completely cut off, completely untethered. She sat, frozen, until Saint finally noticed and swore. Stepping close, he tipped her chin up.
“Look at me, Rae. Really look, okay? Focus on my words. Breathe.”
But she couldn’t. She swallowed hard. “Just say it, Saint. Tell me what you know. I can’t take much more.”
He cupped her cheeks. “Christ, Rae, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Your family is fine.” He wiped a tear she hadn’t even realized she’d wept from her skin. “They are fine.”
“Then what is the problem?”
Saint might think things were fine, but she wasn’t fine. Nothing was fine. Her head was a jumble of faces and half-formed images she couldn’t read or understand, and she was definitely. Not. Fine!
He swore again, furious Spanish curses under his breath as he tucked her close, her head falling naturally into the hollow below his shoulder. The feel of him fitting against her broke the hold of her panic, and finally, finally she sucked in a breath.
Had she turned to Saint before the accident when she was hurting, when she needed comfort? Had he made her feel safe when her entire existence now seemed to have been a lie? She must trust him, at least with her body, because it wasn’t screaming at her to get away. Maybe memories buried deep inside, memories she couldn’t access, subconsciously told her he wasn’t dangerous?
When her muscles lost the last of their tension, Saint stepped back to look her in the eyes. “You have an uncle and cousins, Rae, and they really are okay. I promise.” His thumbs caressed her heated cheeks. “We found your home, right down the street from the one your parents owned, that now belongs to a young family. And you own a business, a shipping and storage warehouse on the docks at the port. You’ve got a whole life, just waiting for you to return. It’s all right there.”
The hint of sadness overlaying his words was impossible to miss. She started to ask about it, but her question still hadn’t been answered. “Then what is the problem, Saint?” she asked again.
The calm she managed to inject into her words sent a shot of pride through her, but it couldn’t erase the fear chaser.
“The problem is, there doesn’t seem to be a problem,” King said.
She turned to him. His fists were planted on the island, his blue eyes dark with concern. “I don’t—” She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
King gave her a sympathetic look. There was a lot of sympathy going around the kitchen, and it was starting to piss her off.Stop sympathizing and start talking, for fuck’s sake.
“You have a house,” King repeated. “The mortgage is paid; the utilities are paid; your car loan is up-to-date. Your mail isn’t being forwarded, and according to a PI I asked to drive by, it’s not piled up in the mailbox, nor is the trash piling up at the curb. You see where I’m going here?”
“Maybe”—she rubbed the ache shooting through her temples—“maybe I haven’t been gone that long.”
“It’s a possibility,” Saint said.
She glanced his way, eyes narrowed to try and read him. Finally she murmured, “But you don’t think it’s probable.”
“The same PI says your company looks like it’s running fine. There are no filings showing your accounts are in default. Your uncle is co-owner of the business, and your cousins work there. We tracked the business’s bank account—”
“Don’t ask how,” Elliot put in with a subtle grin.
“All your family has been paid regularly. With your signature on the checks.”
“Maybe it’s a stamp?” Her questions were sounding more and more weak.
“Maybe,” Saint agreed again, “but you haven’t been paid in six months.”
Everything stilled as she struggled to understand what Saint was saying—or what he wasn’t saying.Allthat he wasn’t saying. Then Elliot added to the mix.
“There is also no record of a missing person’s report or police report of any kind associated with you or your family in the past year, Rae.”
Mind.
