The Rogue (The Moorehouse Legacy #4)(61)

As Amelia stepped into the hall, Mad called out, “Wait.”

Her half sister glanced over her shoulder.

Mad found it hard to let go of a lifetime of bad memories of the woman. But she was willing to…to do what? It would take time to trust. A lot of time. Did they have enough of that in front of them?

Mad found herself hoping so. But that wasn’t why she stopped Amelia. “Are you going to the board meeting this afternoon?”

Her half sister frowned. “I never go to them. Richard votes my shares because I gave him a durable power of attorney. Why?”

“Before you leave, I want you to see something.”





Chapter Fifteen




Jaynie Moriarty came into the kitchen through the apartment’s back door, put her bags of groceries on the counter and looked out toward the living room.

Yup. Through the little porch’s screen door she could see Spike’s big shoulders overflowing one of the white plastic chairs. He was out there again. Had been out there for two days straight, staring at the mountains and the lake in the distance and no doubt seeing nothing at all.

Jaynie put the hamburger and the milk away and left the bags of chips and the cereal out on the counter. After pouring two tall glasses of lemonade, she headed for her brother.

Whether he knew it or not, it was time for that man to do some talking.

Nudging open the screen with her hip, she looked at Spike. He was leaning back in the chair, bare feet up on the railing, eyes fixated on nothing in particular. His jeans were old, torn and baggy. And loose, as if he’d lost weight.

“It’s hot,” she said, putting a frosted glass in front of him.

He jerked, his breath going in sharply. “Oh—yeah. Hey, thanks.”

Jaynie sat down in the plastic chair next to him. She’d never seen him so distracted before and knew it wasn’t frustration that he couldn’t work with that bandaged wrist of his. The poor man hadn’t come home soaking wet at two in the morning the night before because things had gone well with that Madeline woman.

And Jaynie wanted to know that had happened, but experience had proven that prying would get her nowhere with her brother. The trick with him was to get a conversation going and let him jump in with his own goods when he felt like it. And he usually took the bait, provided she wasn’t direct.

She took a nice long sip of the icy lemonade and said, “I think I’m going to go look for an office job of some kind.”

“Transcription stuff not working out?”

“No, it really isn’t.”

“So you’re considering staying here for a little while?”

Yes…as long as she was able. Which wouldn’t be more than a year probably. She was always found, no matter where she went.

“Maybe,” she replied, “but I need to make more money if I do because I should get a place of my own. I love living with you, but you should have your privacy.”

He smiled, but the expression didn’t last long. “Got no need for privacy.”

“Still—”

“I’d rather you stay with me, how about that?” He frowned. “Are you sure I can’t find you something at White Caps—”

“I told you, I don’t want favors. But I read in the newspaper that the Algonquin Hotel on Lake George is looking for some seasonal help.”

Her brother’s eyebrows came crashing down. “That’s like forty minutes away.”

“The drive isn’t bad.”

“Jaynie—”

“I might not get the job anyway. But I’m going to try.”

He looked at her and seemed to realize she wasn’t budging on this. “Well…let me know if I can help anyway.”

“I will. And thanks.”

There was a long silence. And when he cleared his throat, she knew she was going to hear about what was bothering him.

“It happened today,” he said. “Twelve years ago.”

Jaynie’s whole body went cold. Twelve years ago…that night when Spike had taken the life of her abuser to save hers. Good Lord, usually she remembered. “Yes…today.”

Now they were both looking at the view and seeing nothing.

With stark clarity, she recalled the horrifying series of events that had happened so long ago, reliving them in slow motion. And then she remembered the terrible silence afterward…the silence and the way Spike had looked with blood on his hands and horror in his eyes. Later, the ambulance had come for her and Spike had left the scene in handcuffs.

“Do you still think about it?” she asked.

“Not day to day, no. But once a year. Right about this time, yeah, I do.” He glanced over at her. “Do you ever talk about it with anyone?”

She shook her head. “For a long time it was because I was still so emotional. But then it was because I didn’t trust people. Now…it’s because I don’t have anyone. Well, I haven’t…had anyone.”

She stopped there, not about to tell him the whole story as to why she was alone.

Spike shook his head. “You mean, all this time you haven’t dated anyone?”

Oh, this was so not where she wanted to go. There were things he couldn’t know. “Not really, no. I just haven’t met anyone—”