set down her glass and moved to the other side of the room. She dragged her fingertips across the top of a wingback chair. “Her name is Sarah.”
Sarah. Pretty. Biblical. Had Maria named her, or someone else? “All right, then. Tell me about...Sarah.”
“As I said in my letter, she recently celebrated her ninth birthday.”
For the hundredth time since discovering he had a daughter, Hunter did a mental calculation. The numbers added up. The timing was right. Sarah could very well be his child. That didn’t mean she was. Maria had “officially” returned to her chosen profession less than a year after their wedding, but she hadn’t been faithful for months prior to that. Any number of men could be Sarah’s father.
But if the child was his, Hunter would...
What? What would he do with the knowledge?
One step at a time.
“...a pretty child.” Apparently, Mattie had continued talking while Hunter had been lost in thought. “She has your unusual golden-amber eyes and her mother’s dark, Mexican coloring.”
Something passed in the madam’s gaze as she spoke, something not altogether kind. Was she threatened by Sarah, a mere child?
That made no sense. Except...maybe it did.
Maybe this was as personal for Mattie as it was for Hunter, if in a far different way.
“You say the girl has my eyes. I want to see for myself.” He strode across the room, stopped within inches of Mattie and used his superior size to make his point. “Get her.”
Mattie blinked up at him. “She isn’t here.”
“Where is she?”
“Charity House.”
Sudden, unexpected relief buckled his knees. He had to reach out to steady himself on a nearby chair. Hunter knew all about Charity House, the orphanage Marc and Laney Dupree had created for the abandoned boys and girls no other institution would touch. Because of the Duprees’ noble efforts, children of prostitutes were welcomed into a loving, safe home without question. And given a solid, Christian upbringing.
Some of the bitterness Hunter had harbored toward his first wife released its brutal hold on his heart. Maria might have left Hunter for her former life and died less than a year later. She might have kept the knowledge of his child from him. But she’d had the sense to provide a good, Christian home for Sarah at Charity House.
He should be grateful.
And he was, on one level. But he was also confused. Why was Mattie Silks involving herself in the matter?
Surely not out of the goodness of her heart. Mattie had always hated Maria. That much Hunter remembered. As the illegitimate daughter of Mattie’s bitter rival and the outlaw she’d once considered her man, Maria had been a physical reminder of Mattie’s folly. Of the madam’s mistaken belief she’d found a man to take her away from this life.
“What could you possibly hope to gain by telling me about the child?” he wondered aloud.
But deep down he knew. The situation just turned a lot more complicated.
“Now, Hunter, darling, I’m a traditional woman at heart.”
“Of course you are.”
“Don’t be snide.” She brushed aside his sarcasm with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I believe families should be together whenever possible.”
“Except when it comes to your own.”
Her gaze narrowed to two mean slits.
Hunter remained unmoved. “Don’t forget, Mattie. I know your secret.”
“You have no right to pass judgment on me.”
No, he didn’t. His list of past sins was a long one. “You’re right.” He inclined his head. “Forgive me.”
“Yes, yes. Now, where were we?” Not quite meeting his gaze, she redirected the conversation back on its original course. “Maria was wrong to keep your own child a secret from you. She should never have—”
The door swung open with a loud bang, sufficiently cutting off the rest of her little speech.
“How could you, Mattie? This time you’ve gone too far.” A whirlwind of tangled skirts and angry female rushed into the room. “You have no right to interfere in my life, or in Sar—
“Oh.” The woman’s pursuit ground to a halt. “I didn’t realize you were...entertaining.” Her gaze settled on Hunter for a fraction of a second, swept past him, then returned with lightning speed, widening in shocked recognition.
His sentiments exactly.
Feeling as if he’d just been smacked in the head with a board, Hunter fell back a step. Beneath his skin, his muscles twitched and tightened.
Memories took hold, memories of another woman with the same startling blue eyes, the same Mexican heritage.
But this wasn’t Maria blinking up at him in obvious shock. This had to be her half sister, Annabeth. The last time he’d seen her had been at Maria’s funeral. But she was a woman now, no longer a girl.
Pieces fell into place in his mind.
Mattie’s unusually timed letter. Her interference in a matter that had nothing to do with her.
Except, it did have to do with her. Indirectly, at least.
“You...” Long, silky eyelashes fluttered rapidly as Annabeth’s small, plump mouth tightened. “I thought you were in prison.”
“I served my time.”
The initial shock in her pale blue eyes turned to something else, something resembling alarm. Tinged with fear.
More pieces fell into place.
“I...don’t know what to say,” she admitted, her voice cracking over the words, her gaze chasing around the room.
“Good evening, Hunter would be a nice place to start.”
“Yes, of course.” She twisted her hands together in front of her waist. “I... Good evening, Hunter.”
“Good evening, Annabeth. Or would you prefer a more formal address? Perhaps I should call you...” He paused, making sure he had both women’s attention before continuing. “Miss Silks.”
Chapter Two
Miss Silks.
Miss. Silks. Two simple words, spoken in that gravelly, deliberate tone and the carefully constructed life Annabeth had provided for Sarah and herself imploded. All because Hunter Mitchell knew her name. Her real name.
He knew she was Mattie’s daughter.
An
