Torn - Cynthia Eden Page 0,31

had been, but . . . rougher. “When I look into your eyes, I can see the fear there.”

“I’m tired,” she said again.

“Want to know what scares me?”

The question caught her off-­guard. She’d thought that he would push her more. But . . . “What?” She couldn’t imagine anything frightening him.

“The idea of you being hurt.”

His words stunned her.

“You think I didn’t get a serious wake-­up call when you were taken in Louisiana? When you were stabbed? When that bastard could have killed you?” His voice seemed to roughen even more with each word. “I couldn’t help you. I couldn’t get to you. And when I finally had you back, I had to stand there and watch the docs work on you. I had to see your blood and know that there was nothing I could do.” He backed away.

She didn’t move.

“So the last thing you ever need to worry about is me doing something to hurt you, Victoria. Because I can’t. I would sooner cut off my own arm than do anything to you.”

His words were so brutally honest and dark. Her gaze slid from his and she moved—­woodenly—­toward her room. At the door, she stopped. Without looking back—­it was easier if she didn’t have to look at him—­Victoria allowed herself to confess, “I’m scared that I will hurt you.”

“What? No, Viki—­”

“I won’t mean to do it. But it will happen. That’s why no one gets close. Not because I’m afraid of them. But because I don’t trust myself.” What if she had a monster inside, one waiting to break out? She wasn’t like Sarah. Sarah had confronted her demons, head on. She’d beaten them.

But Sarah . . .

Sarah hasn’t committed my crimes. She doesn’t know what I’ve done.

Or what I’ve already become.

Victoria opened her door, went inside, then shut it softly behind her.

WADE STARED AT her bedroom door.

Because I don’t trust myself. What in the hell kind of bullshit was that? Victoria was one of the sweetest, gentlest people he’d ever met. He couldn’t imagine her hurting anyone, but . . .

She has secrets.

Secrets he was more than ready to uncover.

He’d played nicely before. Never digging too deep, respecting her privacy. But now . . . he grabbed his laptop and headed into his room. Victoria was driving him mad. He needed to know as much about her as possible.

Because he wanted to make her pain stop, and he didn’t know how.

He shut his door and a few moments later the laptop was booted up. A few clicks in the search engine and he had the stark facts of Victoria’s life laid out in front of him. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know the general details. Everyone at LOST knew. Once upon a time, Victoria’s life had been pretty big news.

The media had splashed her story far and wide when she’d been a teenager.

Young girl accuses famed geneticist father of murder.

Did Dr. Marcus Palmer kill his wife . . . and destroy her remains?

Wade hunched over the screen. He knew these details, but there was more to her story than just these headlines. So many secrets that Victoria was carrying with her.

When she was thirteen, Victoria’s mother had disappeared. Just vanished.

Like so many at LOST.

He scrolled through the search results. Scanning the information. Five years later, Victoria had come forward with a shocking claim. She told the cops that she’d witnessed her father kill her mother in a jealous rage.

Fuck, I’ve got to watch my jealousy around her.

The last thing he wanted was for Victoria to ever think he was like her father . . .

He kept reading, looking for new information. During the trial, Victoria had described—­in grim and grisly detail—­how she witnessed the murder and how her father got rid of the body. Her father had been arrested. Tried . . .

And found innocent.

But less than a year later he was dead. Killed, by his own hand.

I know all of this already. I need to know what haunts her. What puts that sadness and fear in her eyes?

After her father’s death, Victoria had packed up and moved across the country. She’d been given a full academic scholarship. The lady was a genius, no doubt. She’d got her M.D. and also received a doctorate in Biological Anthropology.

Facts. Simple. Cold.

But he wanted more. He wanted to understand why she’d been so driven, at such a young age. Why had she chosen to study the forensics of the dead?

She wasn’t telling him her secrets, and Wade was desperate