“The same way I managed to get you released pending a review by the Breed Ruling Cabinet of the charges and a decision made regarding whether justice would be best served by killing my parents for breaking Breed Law or convincing them to cooperate by turning over the person who gave you a nit equipped with a technology more advanced than any they’ve seen so far,” she informed the other woman, realizing that the bond she’d always ached for with her mother had never been there.
She’d indeed become an orphan when her brother had died.
“And you were able to do this how? A good-time party girl. How did you make the Breeds owe you so much that they would do that for you?” Her mother’s disbelief in her ability to do anything but party was apparent.
“I guess party girls have their uses,” she sighed, resigned to the fact that her mother would never accept the truth.
Why hadn’t she seen any of this over the years? she wondered. Hell, she hadn’t even heard rumors to suggest the woman her mother truly was beneath her quiet, generous façade. Or perhaps it really was just her elder daughter she so hated.
“Thank you, Gypsy,” her father said softly, the regret and, surprisingly, a father’s love, echoing in his voice. “Even I saw the rapport you’ve developed with them. And I meant what I said earlier, Mark would have been incredibly proud of the woman he raised.”
“Give them what they need, Dad,” she all but begged him. “Please. Don’t let this happen to you.”
He gave her mother a weary look then. “I didn’t even know she had the damned thing,” he said softly. “Only she can answer that, and she won’t even tell me.”
Because she believed she’d found the closest she could get to the son she had lost, Gypsy thought sadly.
Maybe, she thought. If it just hadn’t taken her nine years to figure out what he had been trying to tell her.
“We need to call Jason,” her mother said then. “He’ll have to make some decisions regarding the company. Perhaps Kandy can handle the Breed account . . .”
“Mother, you know that account is gone now,” Gypsy sighed as she fought to push back the fury at the sound of Jason’s name. “The contract you signed became null and void the second you brought that first device into Jonas’s suite. Surely you realize that?”
The look her mother shot her was one of resentment and anger.
“How do we handle losing the contract if we can’t say anything?” Hansel asked then, confused, wary. “What do we do, Gypsy?”
“They can’t afford to take that contract,” her mother burst out then, her expression becoming calculating, conniving. “There’s more to this than merely helping us because of her.” She flung a hand in Gypsy’s direction. “She’s lying and we all know it.”
Guilt, anger and grief had destroyed her mother, Gypsy thought sadly, wondering if there was any way to repair the damage Jason Harte had inflicted when he betrayed his best friend.
Hansel McQuade ignored his wife’s declaration but continued to stare back at Gypsy.
“Jonas will discuss everything with you before you’re released,” she promised, tired, drained by the knowledge that nothing could ever convince her mother that there had been no way to save her only son once his best friend had learned his secrets.
“Gypsy,” her father sighed, the regret, the desperation in his gaze breaking her heart.
She shook her head at whatever he would have said.
“I need to know who she was working with, Dad.” She didn’t bother asking her mother. There was far too much anger there. And she needed to hear it. She needed to hear his name.
“He doesn’t know,” her mother bit out then, furious. “I never told him. And I won’t tell you.”
“You’ve already lost a son,” Gypsy stated, the chill building inside her unrelenting now. “Dad will be convicted beside you. He’ll die with you. Is that what you really want?”
Greta’s eyes widened as tears began to fall once again, sobs shaking her shoulders. “If you had just stayed home,” her mother cried brokenly. “Mark called Jason that night. He told him he had to find you. You didn’t even tell Mark you were leaving as you were supposed to. Jason told us all about it, Gypsy.” Greta’s strangled scream was accompanied by an accusing finger pointing to her with shaky determination. “Jason told us how you were responsible.”
Gypsy shook her head, fury building, tearing at her.
“Mark knew where I was going,” she snapped back at her mother, furious now. “I would have never left without telling him, Mother. Never. He knew of the only party in the desert that night, and he knew I had wanted to go. Just as he knew that if he yelled at me and ordered me not to go without discussing it with me, I would sneak out and go anyway.” Gypsy had to swallow past the hatred burning inside her now. The need to kill. To destroy Jason as she had been destroyed. “Mark knew me. He raised me. Just as Jason knew you.” She couldn’t hold back the contempt in her voice now. “Knew you so well that he knew he could lie to you and you’d never even face me with it,” Gypsy cried out. “You couldn’t even face me with his lies. You let me rip myself apart day after day for nine years and never told me . . .”
She turned away, fighting to breathe, to find that place in her heart where she would always remember, they were her parents!
“I have to go,” she finally whispered, the realization that Jason had destroyed more than he probably ever knew burning through her mind.
“Gypsy, I’m so sorry,” her father whispered, and the sorrow he felt filled his eyes, his expression. “Tell Mr. Wyatt we’ll do whatever he needs.” He glanced at her mother before turning back to her. “We’ll tell him everything he needs to know.”
He watched her with such resignation and regret that her heart broke for him.