Chapter Seven
DALLAS
There's only one place I know with absolute certainty that I can take Gemma and not worry that danger will find her. Because even if an army of men came for her, they'd never get close.
I'm taking her to the one place I never thought I'd return.
Home.
It's a three-day trip from Mississippi to Montana, but Gemma doesn't even blink when I mention it. She seems eager to put distance between herself and New Orleans.
The news coverage of her father's death initially focused on the chaos at the gala and a search for the congressman's missing daughter.
I urged Gemma to make a video, which we sent to Derek at Citadel Securities.
In it, she told them she feared for her life and gave a quick account of what happened at the gala.
She only choked up when she talked about her father.
Having Derek deliver it gives us one more layer of protection in case the company has someone inside law enforcement. He could also inform them that Citadel is protecting Gemma's mother.
As soon as I send the video, we pack up and leave for White Falls.
The hours and the road blur together. A mix of small towns, cities, and endless stretches of highway.
Same as the last four years of my life. This is why I decided to leave the company. I'd traveled so much, that even stops at my usual places like Archie's motel, grew further apart.
Conversation between us is light that first day, and when we stop for the night, I make no pretense of staying on my side of the bed. We both need rest, so I wrap her in my arms, and hold her close while we sleep.
Trust continues to grow between us as we drive. Gemma asks about White Falls and what I remember about living there.
I tell her a few stories of my parents trying to keep me and my two older brothers out of trouble.
We grew up on a small farm. I spent most of my time trying to get out of chores, which meant my oldest brother, Bronco, spent most of his time tracking me down for whatever shenanigan I'd created.
Ford got stuck cleaning up after both of us.
She shows me the wedding photo of her mother and her biological father, whom she doesn't really remember other than being loved, and how he carried her on his shoulders.
She doesn't open up about her adopted dad until the third day.
We're driving through the hills of South Dakota when she quietly asks, "Do you think the GLT company had anything to do with his death?"
I remember the name from his dossier. I never spent much time on the details of a mark's business unless it relates to where he'll be when I'm setting up a job. Something in her tone makes me pause. "Why?"
She shrugs and wraps her arms around her waist, staring out the window. "Just wondering."
I know her well enough to know it's more than that. "What is it?"
"A shell company." She frowns, brows pinching tight. "The Gemma Lea Townsend Company."
My stomach flips over. I reach for her hand.
She takes it, threading her fingers with mine.
"He, uh... set it up in my name when I was fifteen. I was old enough to sign the papers with a guardian, and he said it was a trust for my future. I don't know what the company does exactly, but it's bad."
Son of a bitch. "He used you."
"He held it over me."
I look at her sharply, then back at the road. "What?"
"The first time was when I decided I wanted to teach kids instead of following him into political science. God, he was so angry, he said he wouldn’t spend a dime to help me with college.
So, I got a job and moved in with some friends to an apartment off campus.
” She squeezes my hand. “He was furious with me. We argued fiercely over it all through the first semester. When I came back home for my first break, he told me I had to move back, or I wouldn’t like the consequences.
I refused. A week later, the apartment building burned down.
" Her lips flatten into a hard line. "That's when I learned that instead of a trust, he'd set up a company in my name that wouldn't be tied to him.
Even the paperwork had layers of protection between it and him. "
I swear under my breath. If that motherfucker was still alive, I'd bury him.
She makes a small noise of distress. "What if the investigation into his death reveals dirty dealings through the company? Do you think I’d go to jail as an accessory?"
Just by the way she phrases the question, I know it’s something he threatened her with.
“No, honey. You were underage when you signed. I have to believe a man as careful with his business as your father would keep everything well hidden.” But a good investigator could uncover it and threaten Gemma’s future.
Having her name dragged through the mud would do a lot of damage.
It's not enough to dismantle Roark's company. From what I skimmed of the dossier, it was Townsend's partners in GLT that hired Roark. They have a vested interest in their dealings not coming to light. I just need to find the right pressure point to press.
She deserves to have a normal life away from dirty politics and even dirtier organizations. "He can’t hurt you anymore, Gemma. Not even from the grave." The emotionless mask settles over me like an old friend, and the vow is easy to make.
"How do you do that?" she asks quietly.
"Do what?"
"Go so cold. Emotionless. I wish I could. Maybe then his betrayal wouldn't hurt so much. Or the guilt feel quite so heart-wrenching because a small part of me is..." her voice drops lower than a whisper. "Relieved."
I want to tug her against my chest and take away her pain. But I can't.
“You don’t want to be like me, Gemma.” My jaw tightens. "It separates you from the people you care about until there's no bridge back."
"I don't believe that."
She hasn't lived it like I have. "You called it coldness. That's fitting. Because I learned how to do it under the ice."
She gasps. "What?"
I keep my eyes on the road, but I’m seeing ice. And a boy who had to learn things the hard way.
"I was eleven and wanted to go ice skating on the pond.
It was early spring, but to me it still felt cold enough to be winter.
I ditched my chores, grabbed my skates, and went.
Bronco saw me sneaking out and followed.
He said I couldn't skate because the pond was thawing.
All I heard was him saying I couldn't go.
We argued the whole way, and in the end, he watched me strap on my skates and go out onto the ice. "
I don't remember much about the argument.
Just that Bronco was going to tell mom and dad.
"He was part way up the hill when the ice cracked under my skate.
One second I was flying free and the next, I was under water, being sucked away from the hole by a current.
I panicked and gulped in water. Somehow, I realized I was going to die unless I could get my fear under control. "
I glance at her, seeing fear and horror flash in her eyes. I've never told anyone this story. Not even my parents know the extent of it. Just Bronco and me.
"I forced myself to block out the fear and focused on the ice. If it was thin in one place, it had to be thin in others. I just had to find it. Bronco had the same idea. He heard the crack, saw me disappear, and ran back to help. He followed my progress, found a thin spot and broke through it with sheer force.” I remember seeing his blurry image just before his hand plunged into the icy water.
I should have felt relief. All I felt was cold. “He pulled me out, saving my life."
"How long were you under?"
"Not sure. At least two minutes. I'd never held my breath that long, but the focus I found made it possible.
After that, I found I could shut down my emotions when I wanted.
Each time it was easier until I stopped turning them back on.
" Sometimes I think the cold seeped into my soul that day and I never warmed up again.
"People reacted to me differently after that. My family said I changed. Friends avoided me. Bronco understood. He's the only one who knows what I do."
"Sounds lonely."
I didn't think so. Until I met Gemma. "You're not responsible for your father's actions or the consequences, honey. Anyone would feel relief when the person using them is finally gone."
She chews her lower lip. "I don't want to be afraid anymore."
"We'll figure out a way to bury GLT or erase your tie to it."
She’s silent for a few miles. The tires hum against the asphalt.
Then she quietly says, “You didn’t drown.”
“No.”
“You survived.”
I nod once.
She turns in her seat, watching me like she’s seeing something new. “You taught yourself not to feel so you could live.” Her voice steadies. “But you came back for me. That wasn’t cold.”
That lands harder than anything else she’s said.
“It was you,” I say, voice rough with another emotion I don’t have a name for.
Her fingers curl into my jeans at my thigh.
For a second she just sits there, watching me like she’s trying to decide how to say something. “You’re not broken.”
Something tight in my chest shifts.
“I don’t want you cold with me, Dallas.” Her palm slides higher. “Can we stop for the night?”
I glance at her.
Gemma meets my gaze. Heat burns in her smoky eyes, lighting my body up. I force my gaze back onto the road before we wreck and find the first hotel available.