Page 59 of Dirty Gambit

Her blush darkened and she quickly dropped her gaze to the bag open in front of her. “I can’t find my shoes.”

She rummaged a few more minutes before unearthing a pair of black sandals. They must not have been the ones she was looking for because she frowned at them before relenting and slipping them on.

Fully dressed, she headed towards him. “Where’s Jessie?”

He was about to assure her the child was in the safe care of Aunt Frankie when the woman in question appeared in the doorway behind him, a grim expression darkening her features.

Jaxon stiffened. “Everything okay?”

Frankie glanced from him to Lena, then back. “I need a word with you.” She glanced at Lena still standing in the middle of Jaxon’s room looking small and out of place in the dwindling sunlight outside the patio windows. “We won’t be long.”

Rather than speak, she gave a hesitant nod and stood there as Frankie reached in and closed the door. To Jaxon’s shock and horror, she snapped the key in the lock and pulled it out, sealing Lena inside.

“What are you doing?”

Aunt Frankie met his outrage with a chilling frown. “Who is that girl, Jaxon?”

Chapter Eleven

LENA

The moment the crack of the lock sliding into place filled the silence around her, Lena knew it was over. She had known the instant they’d arrived at that palace and she’d met the woman who ran it, that it wouldn’t end with Lena walking away scot-free; Frankie wasn’t stupid. She wouldn’t simply accept that they’d been driving by and dropped in for a visit. The moment Jaxon had made the excuse, Lena had wanted to roll her eyes. The fact that his parent’s house was a full day and a half drive had given away his lie before they even had a chance to explain anything.

Frankie would have no doubt called Nicole and Richard to ask if everything was all right. That was what Lena would have done if she were in the woman’s shoes. She would want to know why they were driving a pile of junk and why they looked like they’d been through a battle. It was the third day, which meant Nicole and Richard would already be waiting by the phone, ready to hear word of their children. The rest would have been history.

All that had fallen into place in Lena’s mind before the door to the estate had shut behind them. She had known her time was up. Whether Jaxon called the cops or not, his parents would. His aunt would. She was at their mercy. So, by bringing her to what he considered a safe place, he had inadvertently done exactly what Lena had been asking him to do — turn her in.

Accepting her new fate, Lena did what any foster kid was taught to do when their time came to relocate — she packed her things. She divided Jessie’s things from hers. Stuffed her patchwork pack inside the suitcase and zipped it all up. She and the bag were placed on the edge of the bed where she waited for someone to haul her off.

Only this time, she wasn’t going to another family. She would be taken to prison. She told herself it couldn’t possibly be worse than juvie. Prison was another beast entirely. There were different rules, less teenage hormones. She would get no protection or sympathy from the guards once word got out why she was there, nor would she get those things from the inmates once they learned she’d kidnapped a child. But she would figure it out like she always did. She would adapt and survive. She was good at that. Her only fear was Travis finding out about Jessie. She prayed Jaxon explained everything to them and the Westwick family made the call to simply turn her over without explaining how they knew her. They just needed to keep Jessie’s name off the report.

She was still going over her situation when Frankie walked in, a tray in hand with something that smelled like heaven. A mouthwatering aroma of spices, broth, and cream plumed through the air, stealing Lena’s breath and reminding her she hadn’t touched real food in days. It was sheer self-preservation and pride that kept her from lunging on the woman like a rabid animal.

“How’s Jessie?” Lena asked in the way of a greeting.

Frankie paused on the threshold. “She’s fine. She’s currently being fed supper.” She held up the tray between her hands. “I wasn’t sure if you were hungry.” She crossed the distance at a slow, measured clip to set the tray down on the end table next to the bed. “I hope you’re not allergic to anything?”

Lena shook her head but stayed in place. Her gaze went from the offering to the woman. “Are the police here?”

Hands clasped delicately in front of her, Frankie took a step back. “Not yet. I haven’t decided if I should call them or not. Jaxon thinks I should talk to you first.”

“Jaxon isn’t thinking straight,” Lena replied, gingerly slipping off the bed, careful not to make any sudden movements that might startle her companion. “He seems to think I can be saved. He’s wrong.”

“He said you would say that.” Frankie cocked her head to one side. “He’s on the phone with his parents right now, trying to talk them out of calling the authorities. I can’t be sure if he’s succeeding, but they have every right to press charges after what you and your friend did.”

“It was just me,” she interrupted.

Frankie scratched lightly at her right cheek with the nail on her index finger, barely concealing a grin. “He said you would say that, too.” She cleared her throat and went back to studying Lena. “My nephew seems to think you’re innocent. Given the evidence, I’m a little less inclined to agree. But Jaxon has never given me a reason to doubt his decisions. He’s always been unnaturally levelheaded and thorough in his decision making. Sometimes, a little too much. So, for the moment, I am ignoring my training and the rational part of me that wants to have the National Guard drag you out of here, to listen.” She stalked over to the ornate chair resting next to the door and dragged it over. She gracefully lowered herself into it and folded one knee over the other. “You have roughly ten minutes to convince me why I shouldn’t accidentally bury you in the backyard under the septic tank.”

There was very little doubt in Lena’s mind the woman meant it. It wasn’t the fact that no one knew where Lena was, making it the perfect crime, but because Frankie seemed like the sort who didn’t mind a little murder if it meant protecting her family. Regardless, Lena wasn’t about to test her patience.

“I don’t know what Jaxon has told you—”

“Everything,” Frankie interrupted crisply.

Lena doubted that. He didn’t know everything. But she guessed he’d told her all he knew based on the little she’d told him. She could just repeat those things, but given that it was all really and truly over and this woman was her last chance at keeping Jessie safe, she opted for the full truth. Everything starting from the night she and Lissa were taken from their parents. She described the foster homes, her many run-ins with the law, her stint in juvie. It was probably a lot more than the woman had expected to learn about a stranger in ten minutes, but there was no other way to express the real danger she and her family, especially Jessie, were in unless she heard all of it.

When she got to the part about joining Travis’s gang in hopes of finding Lissa, Frankie’s frown deepened. Her red lips thinned into a taut line. It was unclear if she was disapproving of Lena’s decisions or getting annoyed by how long the explanation was taking.

---