Headhunter (With Me in Seattle Mafia #2) - Kristen Proby Page 0,18
what looks like account numbers. Now, my question is, why do you have it?”
I can’t stop staring at my mother. In the photo, her throat is slashed, her mouth open, her eyes staring in shock.
He killed her.
“They’re my parents,” I manage to say and then turn to look Cameron in the eyes. “I was the kid. And, yes, he used me. Ruthlessly. But I got away from the son of a bitch.” I feel my blood boiling, running through my veins faster than ever before. And then I can’t stand it anymore. I can’t stay here.
I stand and flee, running up the stairs and through the house, then out the back door, just in time to lose whatever’s in my stomach in the bushes beside the porch.
Someone comes up beside me, rubbing my back and holding my hair out of the way.
When it seems I have nothing left in me, I straighten, and Shane pulls me to him for a tight hug.
I don’t even know how to process what I just saw. How do I deal with this?
“Hey, man, I have to get back to Seattle.”
I clear my throat and turn to Cameron. “Thank you. Really. I appreciate your help. I’m going to let you two say goodbye. I’ll be inside.”
Cameron nods, and I hurry into the house and to the guest room, making a beeline for the bathroom so I can brush my teeth and wash my face.
But when I’m done, the anger and grief swamp me again.
My poor mama. My God, why did he do that to her?
“Here, drink this,” Shane says as he sets a cup of tea near my elbow. After Cameron left, Shane came inside, built a fire in the woodstove, and then set to work making me some tea. I just wrapped myself in a blanket and sat by the fire, staring at the pretty, orange flames.
“How could I not know?” I wonder aloud before taking a sip of the tea. “All of these years, I never knew the cause of my mother’s death. He just came home one day and said she was dead and wasn’t coming back.”
I shake my head and wipe at a tear.
“I knew he was bad. I guess I didn’t want to see that he was pure evil. He must have had that drive and wanted me to take it to someone to decrypt it for him. I don’t know how he got it.”
“But you never delivered it where he wanted it to go?”
“No.” I shake my head and sip the tea. “I was so over it at that point, I hid it instead. I don’t know why he would even have that. Basically, his resume of all the killing he did. Why would he have that?”
“I don’t know how it came to be in his possession,” Shane says, thinking it over. “Maybe they used it to blackmail him. If it got into the wrong hands, he could have been arrested and prosecuted. Maybe even deported to Bulgaria and executed.”
“Oh my God,” I gasp and stare at Shane in horror. “I should have called the police. All I did was run away. I should have called the police. It didn’t even occur to me. How could I be so stupid?”
“Stop.” Shane stands and joins me on the couch, pulling me to him. “You were a child.”
“I was never really a child.”
“Yes, you were. Despite what he made you do, you were still young, Ivie. You were just trying to survive. And I’d say you did a damn good job of that.”
“He killed my mama.” I feel the tears falling again and lean my head on his shoulder. “She was a good person. So funny. And she made the best breads and desserts. She would let me help her in the kitchen. Because he was gone so much, it was mostly just the two of us, hanging out together. We were already in the US when she died. She told me once that she was afraid of New York. It was so big, so noisy, and she didn’t know the language very well.”
“Do you speak Bulgarian?” he asks as he kisses my forehead.
“Not anymore. I did when I was very small but I don’t remember it. I did everything I could to forget that life and to make this new one—one that doesn’t embarrass me. I shouldn’t just sit here and babble about my mother. She’s been gone for a really long time.”