Bred in the Bone (Widow's Island #4)(23)

“Not yet, Travis.”

Cate blinked. Sam’s voice was steady, strong.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Kristin.” Each word was spoken with emphasis. He lowered his chin, his gaze penetrating. “You know why I need you. I might hurt somebody. Only you can help me.”

Dread and disgust slammed into Cate. The predator thought only about himself.

“Her name’s not Kristin,” Mickey said as tears ran down his face, mixing with the blood on his neck. “It’s Sam. Her mother gave it to her, so it’s her name.”

“You stole my daughter.” Fury dripped from Marsha’s words, and she gripped the figurine with both hands. “You stole my life and hers . . . and her father’s!”

The statue would crack a skull if swung with enough force, but Cate doubted Marsha had the strength. And she wouldn’t have the opportunity as long as the knife was at Mickey’s throat.

How can I get Mickey away?

“I’m not going anywhere until you listen to me, Travis,” Sam said in the same strong voice as before. “I won’t go back to how things were. There will be changes.”

“Sam—” Cate started.

“I didn’t say you could speak.” Travis pointed the knife at Cate for a long second before returning it to Mickey’s neck.

Cate knew some captives became attached to their captors, even willing to break laws or hide from people who came to rescue them. That hadn’t happened to Sam. Or had it? Cate gazed at her friend, willing her not to talk to Travis.

“I want four hours a day without chains.”

Cate’s stomach heaved.

“I want to walk outside without a rope every day. You can walk with me but no rope.”

Travis stared at Sam, and he was listening.

Has she ever talked to him this way?

“I want to live in the house. I deserve a proper house.” Sam’s chin was up, her demands clear.

Dammit, Sam.

Travis held her gaze. “Agreed. Let’s go. But the boy stays here.”

Sam gasped and briefly closed her eyes. “But Mickey . . . ”

“No boy.”

Her face crumpled. “Okay.”

“Sam.” Cate couldn’t let her walk away with this monster.

“It’s okay, Cate. I know Mickey will be safe this way.” Despair lurked in Sam’s eyes.

“You can’t—”

“Cate. Stop.”

“Let’s go!”

“I want to get my clothes first. They bought me warm clothes,” she told Travis. “It’s a waste to leave them behind.”

“Hurry the fuck up.”

Cate thought fast. “Sam, you can have that bag of mine you liked so much. It’s yours.”

“I didn’t—”

“It’s yours. You told me how much you loved the purse, so I want you to have it. It’s on the dresser in your room.” She willed Sam to understand, pleading with her eyes, but she only saw confusion. “Grab it too,” she said firmly.

Sam walked down the hall, and Cate’s heart pounded. Will she bring my bag? She couldn’t see any other way out of the mess. Should I let her leave with Travis?

Carrying a small armful of clothes, Sam returned. Cate’s purse was slung over her shoulder, and Sam’s gaze said she now understood. There was no mistaking the weight of Cate’s gun in the bag.

“You should remove your wallet first.” Sam held the purse out to Cate.

“Kristin,” Travis snapped, pointing the knife at her. He released Mickey to deliberately drag his fingers along the blade, holding her gaze. “You will pay for talking to me like that. Trying to give me orders. That was a punishable offense. Several times over.”

His meaning was clear: Sam would feel the blade when she walked out the door with him.

Cate nonchalantly took her purse from Sam, whose eyes were full of fear again, and unzipped the outside pocket. An odd calm had settled in her limbs. Her movements mechanical.

“I want to say farewell to Mickey. Come here,” said Sam, holding her arms out to the boy, who darted toward her. “Let’s say goodbye.”

“No! You are not to touch him!” Travis grabbed for Mickey, but the boy avoided his grasp and flung himself into Sam’s arms.

Cate felt the grip of the gun against her palm.

Now.

She drew and fired in one smooth motion, shooting until the threat stopped.

Travis dropped to his knees, touching the holes in his chest in confusion.

I had to. He would have hurt—or killed—Mickey. And Sam.

Bile rose in the back of her throat as she stared at the bleeding man on his knees.

Sam held Mickey’s face against her stomach so he wouldn’t see the horror behind him, and she calmly watched as Travis fell face first to the floor.

“Goodbye,” Sam whispered.





10


Three days later


Cate, Sam, and Tessa leaned against the fence at Widow’s Walk, shoulder to shoulder against the chill of the breeze. Cate felt peace. Everything was in its right place.

Almost.

“It looks so different up here now that there is a fence,” Sam said, pulling her coat tight.

A light dusting of snow had covered the island overnight, creating a perfect Christmas atmosphere for the holiday tomorrow. As they gazed across Breakneck Strait, the forests of Camilla’s Island appeared as if they’d been frosted. The island seemed untouched, pristine.