I sat up and wiped at my eyes.
"You shouldn't do that," my mother scolded.
"Rubbing at your eyes like that will give you wrinkles."
For some reason, I found her concern for my future crow's-feet hysterical.
I tried to hold it in, but a snorted laugh broke free.
"Eva Lauren!" I thought her indignation was funny, too.
I laughed some more, and once I started, I couldn't stop.
I laughed until my sides hurt and I fell over."Oh, stop it!" She shoved at my shoulder.
"It's not funny."
I laughed until I managed to squeeze out a few more tears.
"Eva, really!" But she was starting to smile.
I laughed until I wasn't laughing so much as sobbing again, dry and silent.
I heard my mother giggling, and that somehow blended perfectly with my racking pain.
I couldn't explain it, but as horrible and hopeless as I felt, my mother's presence - complete with all her little quirks and admonitions that drove me insane - was just what I needed.
With my hands on my cramping stomach, I took a deep cleansing breath.
"Did he arrange it?" I asked softly.
Her smiled faded.
"Who? Richard? Arrange what? The money? Oh ."
I waited.
"No!" she protested.
"He wouldn't.
His mind doesn't work that way."
"Okay.
I just had to know."
I couldn't see Stanton ordering a hit, either.
But Gideon .
I knew from his nightmares that his desire for vengeance was colored by violence.
And I'd seen him fight Brett.
The memory was seared in my mind.
Gideon was capable, and with his history - I took a deep breath, then blew it out.