The Hero (Thunder Point #3)(68)

“Hmm. That ended. A couple of months back.”

“Ended? Oh, no, what happened?”

He actually smiled. “She’s a web designer, remember? She threw me over for a computer geek.”

“No way!”

“Way. She was pretty married to her computer and I was...” He rubbed a hand along the back of his neck a little self-consciously. “I’ve been putting in long hours. It’s probably my fault. I could have been more attentive.”

Ashley sat back. “You don’t seem all that broken up about it.”

“My pride was hurt. But I think our relationship ran its course and we both knew it. The truth is—I’m glad I didn’t hurt anyone. I’ve hurt enough people in my life. Which brings us back to... Ashley, I don’t want to put your mother on the spot. I don’t want her to feel backed into a corner. She’s a nice person—if I come right out and ask her if living in or near Thunder Point would be a problem for her, she’ll probably tell me to do whatever I want to do. Even if it’s not her first choice.”

“You think you could stand living in a little town like Thunder Point?”

He gave a shrug. “It’s a good little town, I remember that much. And I think I’d like running into you more often. But I’m not making any assumptions—we’re friends. You can come to me with anything, but I’m not going to try to step in as a father figure. I’m not ever going to assume any authority over you. I promise.”

“You’re very funny, Eric. It’s almost too late for anyone to have much authority over me. I’m real close to being out the door.”

“Yes, I guess you are. So—want to toss this possibility out to your mom and Mac? Give them time to think about how they want to respond?”

“I could do that. But I like the idea, if it works out for you.”

He felt a little funny. Kind of warm and fuzzy inside. He had never expected his life to take a turn like this, to have such a positive relationship with Ashley. He knew he didn’t deserve it.

Sixteen

Laine had screwed up. The compound was shut up tighter than a tick these days. If the men were leaving and returning, she was unaware of it, and part of her job was to be aware of everything. Last night, in the middle of the night, Lorna had made her escape through the woods with two children—her two children. Jacob’s two children.

Laine hadn’t had contact with anyone on the outside for a couple of weeks. While they sold produce at their stand by the side of the road a farm woman stopped by in an old pickup truck. She was tired-looking, hump-backed, dressed in muddy jeans and worn boots. She was missing a couple of teeth and read from her list with a lisp—six apples, six pears, pint of blackberries, squash. In the lower left of this ragged slip of paper was written 9-13.

Laine knew there was no hope of getting either Pilly or Charlotte to leave so she had confronted Lorna and given her the chance. And in the morning there was no one in the kitchen because that was Lorna’s domain. Laine thought perhaps she should have gone with her, but there was one reason she just couldn’t bring herself to flee—sweet little Liam. She hoped to somehow rescue him. If she could think of a way to take Charlotte’s four-year-old as well, she would, but Liam was too little to fend for himself. And for that she paid a large price.

Jacob stormed into the house at six in the morning, his face red, his fists clenched. He looked so frightening she jumped back with a gasp. And she thought, It’s going down.

“It’s you,” he said in a low, menacing growl. “It has to be you.”

“No,” she said. “Lorna’s gone. She must have left on her own. Or one of the men, I think. Not me! If I’d known she was going, I would have gone with her.”

Out of nowhere, his fist flew into her face, knocking her back about four feet. It was so sudden, so powerful, she was momentarily dazed. Had she guessed this might happen, she could have been better prepared, but everything they knew about Jacob was that while he could get very angry and abusive, he didn’t seem to be violent.

He came at her again and she put up her arms in defense and began to scream, which brought Pilly and Charlotte running. Jacob was delivering his first kick to her midsection when they came into the kitchen, and they ran to him, trying to pull him away, joining in the screaming. And while Laine had not really bonded with these two, the sight of her down on the floor, under assault by Jacob, must have brought them naturally to her side.

Jacob had slapped people around—he’d even been known to grab one of the women and give her a shake, but he was more inclined to rant and shout, bluster and stomp around, maybe throw something. Laine would not be here if he had a known violent streak. He was fully expected to try to fight back against the law, but this assault was shocking.

The man known as Sam came in the back door and stood in shock at what must have looked like a pile of women on the floor and an enraged Jacob. Right behind him came the man known as Joe. Between them they pulled him back and held him, but they said nothing. Jacob was rigid with rage and strained against the hold his men had on him.

Laine was so grateful that it was in character for her to cry. She was reduced to sobs; her mind buzzed from the blow. Pilly and Charlotte tried to help her sit up, but she was almost too dizzy.

“Jacob, what happened? Why are you doing this?” Pilly asked. “What did she do?”