No Place to Run (KGI #2)(63)

Before, she’d had nothing to lose, and now? She stood to lose so much and maybe nothing at all.

Angered by the tears that slithered down her cheeks—had she done nothing but cry for the last hour?—she scrubbed at the wetness with the back of her hand and looked away so Sam wouldn’t be witness to her awful, gut-wrenching weakness.

But he turned her back. Ever so gently, he touched her chin and brought her back around. He swiped at one damp trail with his thumb, and his gaze softened all the more as he stared into her eyes.

“I lied, you know,” she said brokenly.

He looked startled by her admission. “About what?”

She pulled away from him and stood, unable to just sit there when every muscle in her body fidgeted uncontrollably. She paced three steps and then stopped, her back to Sam. Her heart raced, and even as she wiped at the tears, she felt the uncontrollable urge to weep more.

“I gave you a bullshit line about why I killed my father, and maybe some of it was true. But I killed him for my mother. And now because of that, you could lose yours.”

She turned then so she could at least look him in the eye.

“I’m so sorry, Sam. I never meant for this to happen. I never dreamed ...”

“What did he do to you, honey?” Sam asked. “What about your mother? You never mentioned her.”

“You’re so lucky,” she said with all the envy in her heart. “Even with all that has happened, you’re so fortunate. You have such a wonderful family.”

He rose to stand in front of her. He seemed indecisive as to whether he should touch her or not, and finally he just stood there and watched her.

“And you didn’t have a family.”

She slowly shook her head. “My mother was the closest thing to family, but even she was too cowed by my father to ever do anything to gain his disapproval. He didn’t marry her. He didn’t want me to have his last name. He thought it would be inconvenient were his enemies to ever try to use me to weaken him. Inconvenient. What they didn’t know was that he wouldn’t have cared. He would have never given or sacrificed anything for me or anyone else. But he didn’t want to be inconvenienced. God.”

“Ah Sophie,” Sam said quietly.

“He killed her. And do you know why? He wasn’t angry with her. She had nothing to do with it. She was unfortunate enough to be in the room when a man my father was cutting a deal with questioned whether or not he had the stomach to do what it took to get the job done. Want to know what my father did then?”

Sam closed his eyes. “Jesus, Sophie, you don’t have to tell me this.”

“Yes, yes, I do, so maybe you’ll understand, because even I don’t understand. I don’t understand any of it. We were eating dinner. He had this ass**le over to discuss business. When the man questioned him, he simply pulled out a gun and shot my mother in the head. At the dinner table. And then calmly went back to eating. His only comment? ‘Do you doubt me now?’ ”

“Holy shit, how old were you?”

She was quiet for a moment because all she could think of was the image of her mother, slumped forward in her chair, the sound of her fork clattering to the table. And the blood. So much blood. It had run onto the pristine white tablecloth. Sophie hadn’t screamed. She hadn’t reacted. She’d known even as young as she was that if she’d made any sound, it was likely her father would have killed her too. Just to make a point.

“I was ten,” she finally said. “He went back to eating and then complained because his steak was too well done. I remember being afraid for the cook, but his mood was strangely relaxed, and aside from pushing his plate aside and wiping his mouth, he did nothing more than stare at the man across the table. Then he asked him if he’d like an after dinner drink. They retired to my father’s study while I sat there staring at my mother. I sat there until the maid came to lead me away, and my father’s men then disposed of my mother’s body just like they disposed of everything else in my father’s life that displeased him.”

She lifted her gaze once more to Sam’s. “You wanted to know why I killed him. I killed him with the same disdain that he once killed my mother, and I killed him so I would finally be free.”

“Jesus, baby, I don’t even have words. I don’t know how you survived as long as you did.” He pulled her into his arms and cradled her protectively against his chest. He stroked her hair with one hand and held her tightly with the other. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

She closed her eyes and inhaled his comforting scent. Hot tears continued to leak down her cheeks, absorbed by his shirt. She’d never cried for her mother. She’d been too afraid. Even in the darkness of her room at night, she’d been too afraid her father would hear. He abhorred weakness, and she’d spent years removing any hint of it from her demeanor.

A knock sounded at the door, and she quickly stepped away from Sam, wiping at her face in an effort to hide her distress. He gave her a moment, then leaned in to kiss her on the forehead.

“That’s the doctor. Have a seat and get comfortable. I want him to give you a thorough checkup before we leave here.”

She sagged onto the couch and only half-listened as Sam went to the door and spoke in low tones to the doctor. A moment later, an older man walked in, pushing a portable piece of medical equipment, with Sam close on his heels. It didn’t escape her notice that Sam’s hand was on his gun, and he watched the doctor closely when he stopped in front of Sophie.