Chapter 8
Seth
W atching her pass out and barely being able to catch her before she hit the ground was startling, but hearing the words push out of her mouth as she lost consciousness pissed me off. Not at her, but at whoever called her that. I almost didn’t hear what she said over the beating of my heart.
“My name’s not mouse.”
I didn’t want to scare DJ or the other kids, who I thought might belong to Rhys’s security, so I carefully picked her up and carried her to her bedroom before I alerted anyone to what happened.
I was sitting on the edge of her bed, waiting for her to wake up, when James, Rhys, and Devlin ran into the room.
James asked, “What did you do to her?” We were about to get into an argument over his unstated accusation when Regan woke up, stalling the anger as we shifted our focus to her.
I knew she was lying about working out too hard, but I wasn’t going to call her out in front of everyone.
My gut was saying the journal and her uttered words were connected, but I needed her to verify that fact.
If she was in fact the mouse that Kelly spoke of in the journal, then there was so much more to unpack.
We needed to be as far away from the house as possible before I asked her what she meant. Rhys had high-tech microphones and cameras everywhere on the property, but I knew this area to be less monitored.
I didn’t want to rip the scab off any old wounds for Regan, but if she knew more than she was saying, I needed to get her to talk.
“Who called you ‘mouse’?” I asked, watching her intently to see how she would react to the name.
Her eyes drew in and she gave me a confused look before she replied, “No one’s ever called me ‘mouse’. At least, not that I can remember.”
Reaching over, I took both her hands into mine as I pulled my chair closer to her. “Regan, darlin’, right before you passed out, you said your name’s not mouse.” Pausing, I pushed further. “I need you to trust me enough to tell me who called you that.”
“I said that?” she asked, and I nodded as she grew more confused.
“Will you let me ask you some questions to see if it helps you remember?” I inquired, and she shrugged.
“I won’t answer anything personal, but you can try,” she returned, and I feared she was putting up a wall.
I needed her to relax, so I reached into the cargo pocket of my black pants and pulled out a joint.
Handing it to her, I slid a lighter across the small table and waited for her to decide.
After a moment, she picked up the lighter and lit the tip of the joint before inhaling deeply.
Her brother wasn’t much of a smoker, but James and Devlin used to be, so I knew they couldn’t get too pissed about this.
But I was sure they would anyway.
She offered the joint to me, and I took a shallow toke before handing it back to her. With more than half of it left, she put it out and blew the smoke into the air as she looked at me.
“How old were you when you and your brother connected?” I started, and she smiled as she answered.
“I was a little over eight when I met James, and it was a few weeks later when I met Rhys.”
“And when was the last time you saw your mother?” I questioned, casting a wide net.
“The day I was put into foster care,” she answered, but when she crossed her arms over her chest and diverted her gaze, I knew she was keeping something secret.
“Do you trust me, Regan?” I asked, and she gave me a deep sigh before she answered.
“I do, which is strange for me.”
I smiled at her admission and wanted to keep moving forward. “Then why aren’t you being fully honest with me?”
Her eyes grew wide, and she sat up in her seat before clearing her throat.
Cutting her eyes to the house and back to me, she lowered her voice and finally answered.
“I was put into the system when I was around two, and when my mom got out of prison, she took custody of me. I was around four or five when that happened.”
I leaned closer to her. “How long were you with her?”
“I was almost eight when I went back into the system,” she answered.
Brushing a piece of hair from her forehead, she leaned into my touch. It was good that she was receptive to my touch, because I wasn’t going to stop with the little touches until she told me to.
“Will you do me a favor?” I started, and she nodded, so I continued. “Will you close your eyes for me?” Her forehead wrinkled in confusion, so I explained, “I learned a technique to help retrieve memories without having to relive the moment. Would you let me try that with you?”
She nodded and closed her eyes, showing her trust in me. I wanted to puff out my chest and yell that Regan was my woman, but she wasn’t. Not yet anyway.
“I want you to tell me about the first time you met James.”
For the next few minutes, I stroked the top of her hand as she relaxed into the chair and described her first meeting with the asshole I called ‘preppy’ in my mind. When she was finished with that story, I asked her something personal.
“How old were you when you had your first boyfriend?”
The blush on her face was cute as she responded, “Eighteen.”
“Where did you live with your mom before she disappeared?”
“Some shithole in Tennessee.”
“Which do you prefer, cats or dogs?”
“Both for different reasons—dogs for cuddles, cats for independence.”
Needing to push her a little, I circled back. “Who lived with you in the house in Tennessee?”
“Me, Momma, and a bunch of her friends,” Regan responded, and her forehead drew down as her fists clenched until her knuckles were white.
“What were you studying in college when you first started?” I asked.
“Computer science,” she replied.
I was keeping her mind moving, not focusing on any one period of time or a single person.
It was a technique we’d learned when questioning prisoners and people we needed information from.
I wasn’t using the pain associated with the questions on Regan, but I kept shifting my direction to keep her off guard.
Her eyes remained closed as I asked another question. “When you lived with your mom and her friends, was there anyone your age who you could play with?”
She shook her head. “It was just me after the other girl disappeared.”
My phone vibrated, and as quietly as possible, I pulled it out and looked at the message.
James : Keep her talking. Something about this is familiar.
“Where did you learn to cook so well?” I questioned, shifting her focus again as I raised a middle finger into the air for whatever camera her nosy cousin was spying on us from.
“One of my foster moms loved to grow a garden and cook fresh, so when I asked to learn, she was eager to not have to deal with it every day and taught me everything I know.”
“It’s always delicious,” I remarked and saw her blush again.
I knew I was about to hit her with some harder questions, and I wanted her to feel at ease before I did. Carefully, I leaned over and whispered, “Keep your eyes closed, darlin’.”
She nodded, and I slowly leaned over and placed a chaste kiss on her lips, needing the connection to her before I pushed her into something that may be painful to remember. She smiled when I sat back, and just as carefully, I picked up one of her hands and sandwiched it between my own.
“Do you remember the name of anyone who lived with you and your mom at the house in Tennessee?”
She wrinkled her face, opened her eyes, and lifted her sad gaze as she answered in a small voice. “There was a man named Steve. He was . . . really mean.” She cast her eyes down with the same expression I’d seen from the other women, a sign that she’d survived the worst things imaginable.
Finally, a name . . . and someone I could kill.
“Do you remember the name of little girl who disappeared?”
“Just the ugly nickname they gave her,” Regan replied as she wiped under her eyes. “Cockroach.”
I sat silent, stunned by what she said and suddenly realizing this was all connected so much more than any of us could have ever guessed. My phone vibrated again, and I looked to see another message from James.
James: Holy fuck!
“Did the same people call you ‘mouse’?”
She nodded and wiped more tears from her cheeks. I shoved the phone into my pocket and lifted Regan’s hand, placing a kiss on the back as I spoke softly. “Do you know where the house you lived in was located?”
She shook her head, then her face grew confused and she opened her eyes, looking directly at me. “The address was six-four-eight-seven-one Avenue D.” Pausing, she asked, “How did I remember that?”
“Are you okay?” I asked, and she nodded.
“I’m a little confused how you got me to remember all that, but yeah, I’m okay.”
“It’s a technique to gain information from people who may have locked it away in a vault in their mind and are unable to retrieve it.
By asking questions all over the place, it gives your brain the chance to unlock the vault and trickle information out without breaking the dam and overwhelming you. ”
When Regan made her next move, I was shocked. She slowly leaned forward and placed a kiss on my lips, saying simply, “Thank you.”
“For what?” I inquired, wanting to do it again if it would get her to instigate contact with me.
“For not pushing me and . . .”
“And?”
“And I’d love to have dinner with you tonight, if the offer is still available.”
I smiled and pecked her on the cheek as I replied, “It’s always available for you, darlin’.”
She stood, and I followed her, but then Regan stepped in front of me and raised onto her tiptoes before placing her hands on my shoulders. I waited, allowing her to control the situation as she leaned closer until our lips touched.
The kiss was simple, chaste, and perfect as she slowly opened her lips and allowed our tongues to entwine with each other, feeling the need and desire building in both of us.
Before it grew too intense, she slowed her actions, and I followed until she was looking up into my eyes and I had her wrapped in my arms.
“Johnson, we need you,” Lucian yelled, and I rolled my eyes so only Regan could see.
She chuckled, and I smiled and winked at her before turning, linking our hands together, and walking us back to the house.
When we stepped into the area off the side of the kitchen, I kissed the back of her hand and said, “We’ve got a few hours of work, but I’ll be finished before five. Will you be okay until then?”
“I’ll find something to keep me occupied,” Regan returned and smiled at me before turning and walking down the hallway leading to the living quarters.
I turned and walked down the other hallway, feeling like I was going to throw up. If what she said was accurate, then I knew something about her that her own family didn’t.
I worried the news was going to send the madman over the edge, knowing she was so close yet so far away all those years ago and he did nothing to save her from the nightmare she was trapped in.