After the Storm (KGI #8)(21)

“What’s this woman mean to you, Van?” Sam asked quietly.

“She’s in trouble and she needs help,” Donovan said, avoiding the question. “That’s what she means to me. Some ass**le has made that baby girl afraid of men. A part of me doesn’t even want to imagine what they’ve all been subjected to, and we come across a lot of horrific shit in our line of work. At this point you’d think we’d seen it all, and yet I find myself surprised every time I come across some ass**le who abuses women or children.”

Garrett winced in sympathy. “I hear you, man. But the day we become immune to it is the day we need to hang up the job. It has to mean something to us or we couldn’t do what we do. We aren’t f**king robots without empathy or emotions. Every mission means something.”

“Every mission is personal,” Sam said, echoing a statement he’d made many times in the past. “Just some are more personal than others.”

“And this is one of them,” Donovan said softly. “I can’t explain it, but yeah, this is very personal to me and I’m not going to look the other way.”

Sam put his hand on Donovan’s shoulder and squeezed. “You know we have your back.”

Donovan smiled. “Yeah, never doubted it. Never will. I’ll call Maren. You put a call into Steele. Get him to stand down. I know it will kill the control freak in him, but explain the situation. Tell him I’d never put Maren into a dangerous situation and that I’ll have her covered every second we’re there.”

“Will do,” Sam said. “But Van? And I’m probably wasting my breath saying this, but don’t let your emotions overrule your common sense. If you get in too deep, take a step back and let one of us go in. We’d be more objective and you know we’d get the job done.”

“No one is doing this but me,” Donovan said, his voice more fierce than he intended. “She’s mine. They’re mine. And I protect what’s mine.”

CHAPTER 8

EVE stopped by the couch where Cammie lay sleeping and swept her hand lightly over Cammie’s forehead, frowning when she still felt the evidence of fever. She closed her eyes as she withdrew her hand, not wanting to wake the sleeping child, and walked toward the tiny kitchen area in the hot, muggy trailer.

She filled a glass of water from the tap, not bothering with the ice from the antiquated ice trays in the freezer. Those were saved for Cammie. Eve used them for the drinks she gave Cammie but also to cool her down when her fever got too high.

If she didn’t pay the water and electric bill soon, they’d be without both. Electricity they could do without. It wasn’t as if they had air-conditioning for relief. Being in the darkness didn’t bother her. The heat did.

And it was hot today. No breeze to filter in through the windows and give any relief. She’d spent precious funds on a box fan from the thrift store and pointed it at the couch so Cammie would have some relief from the heat and maybe aid in lowering her fever, but it was still sweltering, even though it wasn’t even noon yet. And if they lost electricity, they’d lose the small measure of relief the fan provided.

Yet one more thing to worry over. As if she didn’t have enough already just trying to provide food for them to eat.

She took stock of the meager supplies she’d purchased before Travis had gone in to work at the hardware store. She’d stretched the money as far as she could, buying only what was necessary. Food. The fan for Cammie. And more medication. Even buying the generic, she’d winced at the prices.

While she’d been out, she’d stopped in a small coffee shop not too far from where Travis worked and had spent a few precious minutes on the Internet. Looking for any sign that Walt was close. For any new developments. What the latest accusations were he was flinging her way.

All she’d accomplished was renewing her utter panic as she’d gone over the news stories in the local California papers and seen that even a few larger news outlets in the bigger cities in California had picked up on the “human interest” story of a deranged, emotionally unstable woman who’d kidnapped the two children of a wealthy, respected man.

Eve wanted to put her fist through the computer screen. Lies. All of it lies. But who would believe her? Who would ever believe that Walt was the monster and not her? That he was the sadistic, abusive father instead of the doting, worried, grieving man he portrayed to the rest of the world. He had everyone who mattered fooled. Only she—and Travis and Cammie—knew the truth.

Eve’s mother had known the truth, and she’d paid for it with her life. Eve could never prove it, but she knew, she knew that Walt had killed her mother. It wasn’t a guess. She knew absolutely. And so did Travis. They kept that from Cammie. It was something she never needed to know. She had enough to fear from her father without knowing he’d killed their mother. But Eve and Travis knew and they lived with the knowledge every single day. That if they ever went back, they’d be going back to hell.

Eve would be locked away, if not in jail, in some mental institution where they’d make a vegetable out of her. And Travis and Cammie would be returned to a man who’d destroy them.

It was only a matter of time before the news carried farther than California. Maybe it already had. Walt had the connections, and it was evident he was doing everything in his power to make the media carry the story far and wide. So there’d be no place for Eve to hide. No hole deep enough. No corner far enough out of the way to escape his reach.