Obsession Untamed (Feral Warriors #2)(26)

She was silent for more than a minute, as if pondering that realization. Finally, she shrugged. “Who cares why I do it? It’s my job, and I’m good at it.”

He squeezed her shoulder. “What happened after your mom died? Did your dad raise you?”

She gave a soft sound of disgust. “No.”

That single word held a stunning wealth of emotion, emotions that trailed across his tongue. Anger. Hurt. And a deep, painful betrayal he knew the taste of all too well.

“My dad decided he couldn’t handle being a single parent. Five days after I lost my mother, he ripped me away from everything I’d ever known—home, friends, school, my cat—and dumped me on my aunt’s doorstep, more than two hours away. I guess in his messed-up logic it was the perfect solution. I needed a mother, and she needed help. She was single with four small children. Only I didn’t get a mother. I got a full-time, unpaid job. I became her babysitter, cook, housekeeper, you name it.”

“Cinderella,” he murmured.

She made a sound. “Believe me, I thought that at least ten times a day. Which was ridiculous, of course. I wasn’t abused, at least…Yeah, anyway.”

Tighe looked over at her. Her abrupt silence was loaded. He reached over and stroked her hair. “I’d like to hear it all. Though I don’t want to cause you more pain.”

“It’s not…I mean…” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “My aunt’s boyfriend moved in with us when I was sixteen.”

Ah, hell. He was afraid he knew what was coming.

“He managed to keep his hands off me for all of five months, but he watched me. I knew he watched me. He finally made a move two days after my seventeenth birthday.”

His hand clenched the steering wheel, the strength of his anger catching him by surprise. “He hurt you.”

She met his gaze, steel in her eyes. “No. He groped me and tried to kiss me. I ripped open his cheek with my fingernails, then slammed my fist in his eye.” A glimmer of satisfaction arced through her expression.

Tighe grinned, a vicious smile. “Good girl.” He tensed. “Did he retaliate?”

“Not directly. My aunt kicked me out that night and told me never to come back. I don’t know what he told her.”

“You went back to your dad.”

“No. I hadn’t seen him in years, not since I was thirteen. He came to see me a few times after he left me with my aunt, but I wouldn’t talk to him. I was furious with him for deserting me.” She groaned. “I was such a brat.”

“No you weren’t. Your anger toward him was deserved. If a man’s blessed with a daughter, he protects her. No matter what.” His grip on the wheel tightened as a sharp pain lanced his heart.

Yet he was no better than Delaney’s father. How long had Amalie cried for him? How long had she hated him?

“Thanks,” Delaney said softly. “I never forgave him. Maybe if I had, he’d have been there for me later.”

He looked over at her. “What did you do? Seventeen is young to be on your own.”

“I got a job waiting tables and rented a room from a lady down the street. After high school, I worked my way through college, my sights firmly on getting the man who’d ruined my life and all the others like him. Revenge.” She yawned deeply. “As you said.”

“You’re exhausted.” He patted his right thigh. “Lie down, brown eyes. Get some sleep.” He was suddenly glad he’d grabbed the larger of the sedans, with its bench seat.

She glanced at him, a smile hovering at her mouth. “That sounds like a line if I ever heard one. And I’m too tired to care.” Leaning sideways, she stretched out along the seat to lay her head firmly in his lap. “I don’t know why I’m starting to trust you,” she murmured sleepily. “I shouldn’t.”

He stroked her hair. “Thanks for not using that gun on me.”

She groaned in disgust, drawing a chuckle out of him, but didn’t move to reach for the weapon. Within seconds her breathing evened out, and he knew she was asleep.

He stroked her arm, feeling a warmth toward her, a protectiveness, he didn’t understand. She was a human. Yet he didn’t remember the last time he’d felt this close to another. Any other.

Human or not, she was a remarkable woman. Determined and driven. Tough and courageous. But not without compassion. He’d seen her expression when they’d come upon the three bodies less than a dozen yards from the statue of Abraham Lincoln. She’d seen more than bodies. More than victims. She’d seen two lovers terrorized and destroyed. And a wife, possibly a mother, who would never go home to her family.

He’d tasted Delaney’s fury over the wasteful destruction of life. Yes, she might have been driven to this job of hers out of revenge, but it was a deep compassion for life that kept her dedicated.

He’d have to remember to tell her that. He brushed back a lock of hair that was trying to fall across her cheek, then lifted it and ran the softness between his fingers.

Inexplicably, Delaney Randall had begun to matter to him. He wanted her safe and able to live her short, fragile life to its utmost. With all the things she’d missed, and still missed. A home. A family. A cat.

The thought made him smile, but his thoughts turned wistful. He sensed a large capacity for love in her, and he wished that for her. Children of her own and a man who would stand by her side no matter what, and love her as she deserved to be loved.