Page 85 of Reclaim (Deadly Hearts 3)

“Come and work for me,” I offer. “I have a place for you.”

I ignore Beth’s inquisitive glare.

“You’re looking for an accountant?” Linda asks, perplexed at the seemingly uncanny timing.

“Yep, but there’s some things you should know first.”

“Like what?”

“Like she’s a badass mafia chick,” Tiff states. “She saved my arse and killed the dick who tried to enslave me for the second time. Slit his throat and then set him on fire.”

“Uhm,” I stammer as Linda’s eyes go wide.

“Oh,” she says faintly.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds…”

Beth lets out a loud guffaw. “Oh, don’t sell yourself short, sweetie. You are the bomb. I mean seriously, Linda. You should see this woman in action. No fucking fear.”

I press my lips together. “Oh, I have fear.”

“Well, if you do, you don’t show it.”

“I think Linda has heard enough about that…”

“No,” Linda interrupts me. “Linda hasn’t heard nearly enough about that.” She grins.

The rest of the evening goes by with good food, good wine, and good company. These three women are so strong to have overcome the shit that has been thrown at them. Even Tiff comes out of her shell knowing she is among friends who know what she’s been through.

They fall asleep in Layton’s bed in the early hours, but I’m too wired to sleep. I open up the small box and smile. Inside is a book. My book, that I wrote a while ago to journal my life and experiences. I place it on the side of the bed for the women to look at and hopefully for them to know they can drag themselves up from the horror and torment to make a good life for themselves. If I can do it, anyone can.

Smiling, I head to the kitchen to get a glass of water, when the front door opens and Layton looms into view.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hey. Everything okay in here?” He closes the door quietly behind him.

“More than,” I reassure him. “Everything okay out there?”

He smiles. “Yes. All taken care of.”

“How?”

He sighs. “We called it in. It’s above board and you weren’t there so we figured it was the best way. Plus, she is dealt with in a way she deserves.”

“Oh, good,” I say, slightly surprised, but relieved that she wasn’t buried at the bottom of the garden or set on fire on top of Scott’s burned-out corpse.

“Are we okay?” he asks after a pause, keeping his distance.

“I don’t know. Are we?”

He tilts his head, puzzled by my response. “What do you mean?”

“Is there anything else you think I should know?”

He shakes his head. “All caught up.”

“Then we’re good. I don’t want to hold onto grudges.”

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