27. Beau
27
BEAU
I ’d changed the music to some low, slow jazz. Very New Orleans.
I was lying on my back on the couch with Bell snuggled in my arms. Her back was pressed into my chest, her fingers lazily stroking the tats on my arm.
My earlier tension had slowly drained away. Holding her eased the terrible anger and fury at Carr.
And at myself for not keeping her with me. Of being too much of a coward to take care of her properly.
Bell was right. She was alive. No one had been hurt in the fire. Dante had checked in with the owner of the boarding house, and the woman had insurance. Kavner had leaped into action and organized shelter for the women staying at the boarding house. They’d have a safe place to stay.
I played with Bell’s damp hair. The dark strands smelled like my shampoo. It certainly smelled better on her than me. With her hair out, I realized just how long it was.
Her fingers moved over an old, raised scar on my arm.
“Did you get this in the Army? Or when you were a mercenary?”
I released a slow breath. “No.” I paused. “My mom stabbed me with a kitchen knife when I was five.”
Bell’s gasp was sharp. “What?”
I looked at the dark ceiling. I occasionally talked to my brothers about my childhood, but usually I gave my parents the least amount of mental time or energy as possible. “Both my parents had drug and alcohol addictions. They grew up poor and disadvantaged.”
“That must’ve been hard on you.”
“Yeah. Thankfully, there was just me.” I’d had no other siblings who’d had to suffer. “Our house was chaos.”
Bell pressed her face to my chest, offering quiet support. I held her close and felt as though a box cracked open inside me.
“The place was always stifling hot in the summer, and freezing in the winter. There was no money for heating or cooling. I went hungry a lot. I had to steal money out of their wallets. Then I’d roam the neighborhood.” Anything to get out of the house. “They had people coming over to get high all the time. People coming to buy drugs.”
“God,” she whispered.
“If I got in their way, I usually got a slap.” As I’d gotten older, the slaps had gotten more frequent and harder. “I turned into a big kid pretty quick, and I ate a lot. My parents resented any money they had to spend on me.” They hated anything that might delay their next fix.
She made a choked sound.
“Shh. I survived, angel.”
“ No kid should have to survive that.” She paused. “How did you end up in foster care? When your mom stabbed you?” Bell’s voice sharpened. “I hope they locked her up.”
So fierce. I smiled. “When child services checked in, she told them that I’d fallen on the knife. They believed her.”
Bell cursed.
I stroked a hand down her side. “It was a few years later that I left.” Chaotic images ran through my head—people, high on drugs, lying everywhere in the house, horrid smells, loud music. My parents strung out.
“I need it, Ray. I need a hit.” My mother’s stringent voice.
“He’ll pay good money for the boy,” my father said.
I carefully peered around the corner of the door. They didn’t see me. I was good at not being seen.
My mother’s brow creased. “To take him? Like, adopt him, or something?”
“No. For a few hours with him.” My father wiped a hand across his mouth. “He promised he wouldn’t leave any bruises.”
My mother was silent and my rapidly beating heart had kicked in my chest. Was she finally going to defend me?
Then she licked her lips. “How much?”
I’d run. I’d already seen the way some of their friends looked at me. Especially one tall man whose dark gaze always followed me around. He gave me the creeps.
“My parents wanted to make money off me.”
Bell lifted her head and frowned. “Put you to work?”
“No. They wanted to sell me to a guy who liked young boys.”
“What?” Bell exploded off the couch. “Sell their child to a pedophile? You can’t be serious?”
I sat up. “Bell—”
But she was too steamed to listen. “What was wrong with them?” She threw her arms into the air. “I don’t care if they had addictions, they still know right from wrong. They were supposed to protect you.” She spun, her face draining of color. “Did… Did he hurt you?”
I grabbed her and pulled her back to me. “No, angel.” I settled us back against the couch and into our original position. Her body was tense. “I ran. The cops tried to take me back, but I told them what happened. That was when I ended up in foster care.”
“Where are they now?”
“No idea. I haven’t ever been interested in finding them.”
She sucked in some deep breaths. “And if they’re still junkies, and knew you had money…”
“Yeah.”
She turned, hugging me hard. “A mother is supposed to sacrifice for her kids. A father’s supposed to protect them.”
“Not everyone’s cut out for it.” I smoothed her hair back. “You miss your mom?”
“Yes. We’re close. I’ve sent her a few letters when I could. Dad died from a heart attack when I was in high school. It’s just been the two of us for a while.”
“You’ll see her again, Bell. I promise.”
She made a sleepy sound and nuzzled my chest. “She’d like you. She’d say you were tough, caring, and hot.”
I felt her body go lax as she fell asleep.
I’d never get to meet Bell’s mom. I knew that wasn’t in the cards for us.
But I made a vow that one day, Bell would get back to her mother, and they’d both finally be safe.