Tremble (Denazen #3)(35)

“It means,” Kale said, leaning closer to my cell, “that I want the truth. If Ben Simmons can give that to me, I intend to have a talk with him.”

Mom was quiet for a minute. When she spoke again, her voice had that tone. The dangerous one that hinted she was about to lose her temper. I’d seen it happen. It wasn’t pretty. “And what does that have to do with my daughter?”

“Because if Simmons confirms what your daughter claims, then she is telling the truth and I’ve been lied to. If he tells me there’s nothing wrong, then your daughter is lying. And if she’s lying, that means my friends are telling the truth. And that means she and I have unfinished business.”

“And what makes you think we won’t intercept you?” Mom asked with a hint of amusement. I could almost see the smile creep across her face. “We know where Simmons is, too. We could simply take her back.”

“I don’t advise that,” Kale growled. “Because if anyone shows up, there won’t be enough left of Kiernan, or Dez, or whoever she is, to fill a paper cup.”

Mom took a deep breath. I could hear it as clearly as if I’d been standing beside her. “I love you like you are my own, Kale, but if you hurt her, I’ll kill you myself. Slowly.” Her voice was like ice, sending a chill through the room cold enough to freeze fire.

Kale stepped forward and picked up the cell. “Then let’s hope she’s telling the truth.” Eyes on me, he jammed the end button and tossed it on the bed. “She called you Dez.”

I stared at the phone, thankful it stopped bouncing right before tumbling over the edge. If I told Mom I needed another phone, she’d have a llama. This was the third one in two months. I snatched it from the bed and set it safely on the nightstand. “Probably because it’s my name. Oh, and this new personality? It leaves a lot to be desired. Alex is right. You’re kind of a dick.”

Kale didn’t answer. Instead, he sank onto the mattress and pulled off his shoes. I could try to get away when he slept. I’d probably have a fifty-fifty chance—okay, more like ten-ninety—but I had no intention of trying. As much as it hurt to see the disgust in his eyes each time he looked at me, this would be my only opportunity to get through to him.

“So…sleeping?”

“What about it?” he said, kicking both feet up.

“You expect me to sleep in the same bed as you?”

“That’s up to you.”

“How do I know you won’t roll over and dust me in your sleep?”

“I don’t roll.”

Hah. Kale, on a good night, would end up on the floor at least twice. Nightmares. Obviously it wasn’t an issue anymore. Still, I was worried. I looked from him to the bed, frowning.

He reached across and flipped the light switch, and the room went dark. “As I said before, no need to flatter yourself. You’re not my type.”

I hesitated, then sat on the opposite edge of the bed. If I could get him talking, maybe I could shake something loose. A memory or a feeling. I wasn’t picky. I’d take anything at this point. “And what would that be?”

“My type? I thought you said you knew all about my life. Why don’t you tell me.”

I twisted around and pulled my feet up, tucking them close. “Nothing I say to you right now is going to get through. You’re convinced I’m the enemy.”

After a few minutes, he let out a soft snicker. “Okay. Roz is strong. She’s confident and loyal. She’s there when I need her.”

“Congratulations,” I mumbled. “Sounds like you’re dating a German shepherd.”

I felt the bed shimmy, and in the dark I saw the outline of his figure rise. A moment later, his face moved into the moonlight beaming in through the heart-shaped window. “Roz and I fit. I can’t explain it, and I don’t expect someone like you to understand.”

“Someone like me. Exactly what is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re spiteful. I know you’re her half sister. Roz told me how she tried reaching out to you and how you turned away. She offered you help and in return, you tried to hurt her by hurting your father and me. All because you felt slighted.”

My heartbeat quickened. “What do you mean, slighted?”

A car drove by, its lights streaming into the window to reveal Kale’s serious expression. “Roz tells me everything. She said you were bitter about having grown up in foster care. You were in a horrible situation until Marshal finally came to get you, while she lived a good life.”

I lay on my back as close to my end of the bed as possible and rolled over to face him. “What else did she tell you about how her sister grew up?” I wasn’t willing to say I. That would only make him think it was a confession—or worse, a slipup.

“Your foster father was a drunk with a heavy hand.”

“I didn’t know.” What she’d done to me—to Kale—couldn’t be overlooked, but I couldn’t help feeling bad for her.

Little things started to make sense. Things she’d said when we first met. Comments made in passing during the months she spent at the hotel. Why hadn’t she said anything? If she was angry or resentful, why not just yell and get things out in the open? We could have been there for each other. We could have been family. Instead she turned to Dad, and because of that choice, innocent people were dead.