Penmort Castle (Ghosts and Reincarnation #1)(11)

Abby felt every muscle in her body seize up.

Kieran had given James her real story.

Why would he do that?

Why, she had to repeat in her head, on God’s green Earth would he do that?

She tried to steady her rapidly beating heart and mentally forced her body to relax and she did this by thinking of all the gratifyingly horrific ways she was going to make her good friend pay for his betrayal.

“There’s quite a bit of detail in that story,” she said softly, for lack of anything else to say and trying to throw him off the fact that the air in the car had suddenly grown thick and she was the reason for it.

“Your husband’s name was Benjamin Butler,” he informed her and hearing Ben’s name come from Cash’s mouth made instant tears burn the backs of Abby’s eyes.

“That’s a nice name,” she whispered while she worked very hard at controlling her tears. She continued when she had herself together. “And what if they check?”

Cash glanced at her as he rounded a bend, the car gliding smoothly down a steep, winding hill.

“You sound surprised,” he remarked.

Abby didn’t reply.

Cash continued, “I’ve been told your people have taken care of this.”

It was then she realised why Kieran had divulged her story and Abby stopped considering her varied forms of torturous retribution.

Part of the plan was that she and Cash would be seen together, photographed together and talked about before they attended his aunt and uncle’s Silver Wedding Anniversary celebrations at the family estate, Penmort Castle.

Seeing as he was Cash Fraser, dangerous, international spy-hunter, people would be curious to know who the hell she was.

She hadn’t exactly covered her tracks, given a false name, had plastic surgery to modify her features or even changed her hair colour. If they checked, it wouldn’t be hard for them to find out.

She looked out the passenger window and hoping she sounded bored with the details, stated, “I don’t involve myself with those things. My…” she hesitated then used his terminology, “people do.”

“You work alone,” was his strange reply and although it was a statement, it was also a question and she didn’t know how to answer, mainly because it was obvious she would work alone.

He hadn’t asked to look like Hugh Hefner with five escorts dripping off his arms.

“Of course,” she replied.

“For yourself,” he went on.

She looked at him again. “Yes.”

“Not with an agency,” he continued and she finally got it.

“Not with an agency,” Abby repeated.

“How many people take care of you?” he asked.

“Two,” she replied honestly, not thinking to include James who was Cash’s friend and for Abby just a go-between or Pete who took care of her in a way but not this way.

“Do they work for others like you?” Cash pushed and Abby pressed her lips together.

This was none of his business.

And furthermore, him saying the words “like you” made her feel cheap and dirty even though she was expensive and had showered that evening at Jenny’s for fear of her tub crashing through the floor.

“Cash,” she said softly but she hoped her meaning was clear.

It was and it wasn’t, he changed the subject but not really.

“May I ask a personal question?” he requested.

“And the questions you’ve been asking aren’t personal?” she returned.

When he replied there was a hint of surprise in his voice, “No, Abby, they’re not. Business is not personal.”

Damn, damn and double damn but she’d given something away. He didn’t know her “back story” was real. He didn’t know that her “people” were her two best friends in all the world. He didn’t know that the reason behind her prostituting herself was very, very personal.

She covered by acquiescing. “Of course, ask me anything you want.”

She noticed that they’d reached the city and he’d negotiated the bridges to turn back across the river. He now paused their conversation to parallel park on the street outside a restaurant she knew, one she’d always wanted to go to but couldn’t afford, one that Kieran and Jenny wanted to take her to (and pay) but she wouldn’t let them.

It was exclusive because it was pricey. She looked and saw that the décor through the big windows facing the river was simple. The lighting soft and romantic, the tables draped in white cloths with white buds blooming from small, glass vases. Flickering tea lights lit the tables and she could see a roaring fire was burning in an ancient hearth against the back, stone wall.

Cash, having parked and turned off the car, interrupted her perusal of the restaurant with one word and that word startled her because there was a low, vibrating harshness underlying it. “Why?”

Her eyes moved from the restaurant to Cash. “Pardon?”

“Why?” he repeated.

“Why what?” she asked, confused and wondering if she missed something.

“Why are you what you are?”

Abby blinked then swallowed then she had the desire to cry which was mingled with the desire to flee which was also mingled with the desire to reach out and slap him as hard as she could thus punishing him for something for which she should be punishing herself.