families’ rivalry, the hate, the suspicion, the ramifications of it all.
‘No police help again,’ Becker grinds on. ‘The only thing that would have brought my father back to life after my mother died would have been finding the missing piece of the map and finding the sculpture. It gave him the purpose he needed. He felt she died for nothing.’
I get that, but more frightening is the fact that Becker feels the same as his father, except probably on a more intense level. He’s lost both of his parents. He has double the resentment. And old Mr H’s fear is now all too reasonable. He doesn’t want to lose his grandson – his only living relative – like he did his son, daughter-in-law, and his own wife, albeit in different circumstances. But it all boils down to that map. Mr H is prepared to sweep all of the awful circumstances under the carpet, try to make peace with the Wilsons, in order to keep his grandson safe from the curse of the map? No wonder he was so mad with Becker when he found out he’d conned Brent. Becker’s lied to him. He promised his gramps he was letting it go, but he did that to protect the old man. My Lone Ranger wanted to find that sculpture to avenge his parents’ deaths and to fulfil his dad’s wish. He wanted to do it with no risk of further heartache to his grandfather. So he closed himself off, limited any emotional attachment to his gramps, and anyone else, for that matter. My poor, vulnerable, complex man.
‘The Wilsons are the immoral ones here, princess. Not me.’ Becker’s eyes cloud over. He goes to his desk and slumps in the chair, his tall body reclined back. He looks so tired all of a sudden, worn down, as he pulls something from his pocket and studies it, soon becoming lost in a daydream. ‘She was so beautiful,’ he says quietly, taking his index finger to his top lip and brushing lightly from side-to-side, deep in thought. ‘My dad worshipped the ground she walked on. Was broken when he lost her.’
My tummy flutters with nerves that befuddle me. He looks peaceful now, at ease and stable. It throws me. I should be relieved that he’s finally sharing his heartbreak with me, but while there’s gratitude, there’s a massive cloud of apprehension fogging it.
I watch him as he studies what I assume to be a photograph of his mother. ‘You’re beautiful,’ he whispers to himself, and then he looks at me. The hurt in his eyes nearly knocks me from the chair to my arse, and I realise that statement was meant for me. ‘Just the thought of not having you around feels unbearable.’ His face twists, like he’s pissed off that he’s found himself thinking like that, let alone feeling like it.
This should spike the most incredible sense of satisfaction in me. But it doesn’t. Becker Hunt prides himself on being impenetrable. He’s a lone wolf. Lets no one get close to his heart in an extreme attempt to prevent himself from getting hurt, to stop him from experiencing the same devastation that his father did when he lost his mum. To let nothing get in the way of his mission to find that sculpture. It would be easier for him to walk away from me, rather than deal with these feelings that have caught him off guard. It would be easier for him to let me go and continue his search for the sculpture. I thought he’d turned a corner, come to terms with me and what’s evolved between us, but seeing his turmoil, seeing the despair on his face, makes me realise that accepting this is a constant challenge for him.
‘I feel like you’ve performed a smash and grab on my heart, princess.’ Becker pulls his glasses off and chucks them on his desk, along with the picture, before taking his palms to his face and rubbing furiously. ‘You’ve proper screwed me over. You weren’t part of my plan.’
‘And you weren’t part of mine, either.’ It’s true. There have been plenty of times I could have walked away – and sometimes did – but Becker always brought me back round, or simply brought me back. It’s instinctual. For both of us. Like a magnetic force keeping us close. I’m so over fighting with what nature intends. And it clearly intends that we be together. No matter who he is and the secrets