Still, there was a tiny part of her that doubted it. Her mind couldn't reconcile the two sides of Sundown that she'd seen. The fierce protector and the lethal killer.
You've killed, too.
But for a reason. Her parents hadn't deserved their deaths.
"You're awake."
She glanced over to the door where Sundown was standing. A wave of fury swelled through her, but she fought it down. The last thing she wanted was to warn him of her intentions.
"Yeah." Licking her dry lips, she glanced down to his right front pants pocket, which caused him to arch an inquisitive brow. Her face turned red as she realized he thought she was staring at his crotch and not the other, much smaller bump. "Not on your life, cowboy."
"Dang. Just when I got my hopes up, too."
For once, she didn't let his charm infiltrate her suspicions. She sat up on the bed. "Do you have the time?"
He pulled an old-fashioned pocket watch out and opened the cover to check it.
Before he could answer her question, she was off the bed and had it in her hand. Her breath caught as she saw the photo that had set her father off.
It was her mother.
"What are you doing with this?"
His face turned white. "It's not what you think."
She glared at him as she clutched the watch, wanting to strangle him. "What I think is that you're a liar." She held it up for him to see the picture. "This is my mother."
"It's not your mother."
"Bullshit. I know what she looked like."
Still, he shook his head in denial. "Look at it again. Your mother had short hair and never wore a dress like that one. Ever."
She turned it back toward her to study it.
He was right. The woman in the photograph had her hair piled up into an extravagant braided bun like a woman would have worn in the late 1800s. Her high-collar, white lace blouse was adorned at the neck by an antique cameo. Like her mother's, the woman's eyes glowed with warmth and kindness.
But the most startling fact was that their features were eerily identical. The same sharp cheekbones and dark hair. Eyebrows that arched at an angle above kind eyes. But her mother's eyes had been blue. The woman in the photograph had dark eyes. Even so it was like staring at her mother all over again.
"I told you your ma reminded me of someone." Jess covered her hand with his. "Now you know."
That touch sent a chill down her spine. "Who is she?"
"Matilda Aponi." There was a catch in his voice that told her the mere mention of the name pained him.
"And what was she to you?"
He took the watch from her and closed it. "Does it matter?"
Obviously the woman had mattered a lot to him. "You loved her."
"More than my life."
Those heartfelt words actually made her ache. She'd never seen so much love in a man's eyes for any woman. It was so intense and unexpected that a part of her was actually jealous of it. She'd give anything to have a man love her so much. "Are we related to her?"
He started to turn away, but Abigail wouldn't let him. She reached out and touched his arm as a creepy suspicion filled her. Please let me be wrong.
"Am I related to you?"