A Pound of Flesh (A Pound of Flesh #1)(45)

She giggled and Carter smiled at the sound.

“In all seriousness,” she said, pulling her bag onto her shoulder, “if you do find a copy, would you let me know? I lost mine.” The heartbreak on her face was clear.

“I will,” Carter answered sincerely.

“Hey, Carter,” she called as the guard unlocked the door for her. “Thanks for today.”

He smiled as the door closed slowly behind her. “Anytime, Peaches,” he whispered to the empty room. “Anytime.”





10


Those who didn’t know Eva Lane personally considered her aloof and arrogant. But no one, not even those who disliked her, could deny her strength.

When seven thugs, high on whatever they’d taken that fateful night, had ruthlessly murdered her husband, Senator Daniel Lane, she’d remained stoic and calm in public. She received condolences from voters, strangers, and many of her husband’s colleagues with a smile and a nod of thanks. Everyone had marveled at her composure.

But deep down, she’d been dying. Her heart had been ripped out, leaving a gaping hole that couldn’t be filled with words of sympathy or touches from loved ones.

Daniel had been everything to her and when she was told he’d died, been beaten so violently that his brain had bled, causing a massive stroke, she’d considered taking her own life to be with him. An easy, selfish, and desperate way out. How could she possibly go on living when the only man she’d ever loved was gone?

For weeks after his death, Eva had taken to the bed they’d shared and cried. She’d screamed, shouted, thrown things, hit things, hit herself, but the pain remained. The hole was wide and cavernous, and nothing could staunch the grief every time her eyes opened and she realized her Danny was still dead.

Nothing except her daughter.

Her little Katherine, who’d witnessed the murder of her precious father, who was silent, pale, and desperate for her mother to give her words that would pull her from the grief consuming her so entirely. Eva knew she’d been selfish in her own sorrow, that her little girl needed her, and Eva needed Katherine, too. Yet Eva could barely look at her without seeing her husband. Every movement, mannerism, and look her daughter gave was so much like her husband that, for a long time, Eva could spend only small amounts of time in her company.

[page]It broke Eva’s shattered heart further and contributed to Katherine’s belief that her mommy blamed her for the death of her hero-worshipped father. She should have stopped those bad men, she’d whimpered. If that stranger hadn’t been there, she might have been able to. The anguished “what-if’s” of a nine-year-old girl who wanted nothing more than to see her father walk through the door again.

During therapy, Eva slowly began to realize what she was doing to her child. She was devastated when she heard Katherine’s thoughts about Eva’s blame. She also understood how lucky she was that she still had her daughter at all—how close she’d been to losing her, too.

And she would be forever grateful for whatever divine intervention occurred for keeping her baby safe. She had a beautiful, living, breathing connection to her cherished husband—and she would always treasure and protect her daughter, for the rest of her life.

Unfortunately, as well as looking just like her father, Katherine had inherited his determination. She was stubborn to a fault and, once decided on something, she was never swayed. Eva knew that her attempts at keeping her daughter safe were bordering on smothering, but dammit, didn’t Katherine see the risk she was taking?

It pained Eva to see her daughter dismiss her worries so easily. She’d tried relentlessly to steer her daughter away from the path she had chosen, to no avail. She sighed heavily now.