Billionaire Protector - Alexa Hart Page 0,73

Kate to crack... even a little... I could easily take her down. I was more worried about getting her distracted enough to ensure that she didn’t shoot Anne – or Jesus, even Murph – before I could stop her.

“He won’t. You shut your mouth, Penn, or I will shoot it off. You won’t be such a pretty boy then.” Kate scowled, her triggers all having been set off. She was struggling to maintain control, and even she knew it.

“Yeah. Shoot me right in front of the child you want to raise as your own. I mean, you haven’t scarred him enough quite yet. You gonna tell him watching my face explode was a dream, too? Have you even thought this through at all?” I glared at Kate as though she was the most idiotic person I’d ever met in my life.

I was actually pretty sure that title went to the dumbass lying unconscious in the back alley.

Anne seemed to have picked up on what I was attempting to do. She’d stopped struggling, letting me work my magic (assuming I had any) on her insane boss-friend-kidnapper.

“I have thought this through for every day of my life since I was twenty-five!” Kate screamed at me.

“You didn’t even know Anne when you were twenty-five, so technically, that couldn’t possibly be true. You couldn’t have thought through this exact scenario. That’s not even logical.” I knew it was a bold move, but I grinned at her when I finished speaking.

She was livid now.

“You know what? Fuck the money. Fuck Tim. And fuck little Valerie Anne here. I could give a shit about avenging Randall Fisher. I’ll kill all of you and take Murphy. And he will call me mommy – eventually he’ll forget all of you and all of this and so will I!” Shrieking. The screams had risen to shrieks.

“You don’t really believe that, Kate,” I said in my most condescending tone.

Her nostrils flared and she cocked her gun.

14

Valerie

When I was little, I had an obsession with the moon. I couldn’t go to bed until I had told the silvery globe good night.

I guess I had considered it my friend. I didn’t really have any real friends.

One of the first lessons I learned as a foster kid was that making friends was a big mistake. Be pleasant – always. Be agreeable – always.

Get attached to another person – absolutely never.

Of course it was always amazing to make a new friend. Maybe at school, or maybe a fellow foster brother or sister. But I learned. I learned not to. Because no amount of joy could make up for the sense of sorrow that followed when it was time to switch houses, switch schools, switch families.

Switch lives.

At some point, I’d gotten old enough that the moon didn’t fascinate me the way it used to. It no longer seemed like enough to have the moon as my one, solitary pal. No matter how much I talked, there was never a response.

I grew to resent the silence.

But when Randall started hurting me, I found that the moon was once again my greatest comfort. Always there. Even if I had two swollen black eyes and could barely see it, the moon was always there.

Randall had realized in his ever watchful brain that I gazed at the moon as a source of comfort. He forbid me to look at it anymore.

Randall took the moon away from me. He wanted me to only see him. And so I did.

Until Murphy.

Murphy was the one thing that no one could take away from me. Not even Randall. And something about that connection – that love that I shared with my baby boy – kept me going.

Murphy kept me alive long after I would have given up.

Randall took my freedom, my peace, my happiness... but he couldn’t take Murphy.

I think he knew that, and he hated me for it.

Penn had clearly missed his calling in life. He should have been a hostage negotiator. His methods might have been a little unconventional, but they were sure as hell effective.

Or at least, up until this point they had been effective. Now that Kate was fully enraged and her gun was cocked, I was desperately hoping that Penn Hardick had more to his name than good conversational skills.

“Yeah. You’re definitely not thinking that through either. You can’t just kill three people and walk away, Kate. Your DNA is all over this place. All over Anne. All over Murphy. All over Anne’s apartment. And apparently you share