picked up one for Jacob and the driver, too.
Back in the car, Jacob accepted the drink and thanked her, then put the bottle aside and never even looked at it again. Blythe caught herself wondering if he had some kind of superhuman ability to withstand thirst and then giggled softly at the notion. She must be more exhausted than she’d thought.
“Do you find something about me amusing, Ms. Daphne?” He sounded deeply concerned. As she raised her head to look at him, he gave her a self-deprecating, worried smile.
“Of course not.” Guilt stabbed her. “I’m just overly tired.
He nodded. He didn’t ask her to explain and she didn’t offer. As a matter of fact, for the rest of the trip, when Jacob did raise his head from his work, he barely glanced at Blythe. Instead, he studied Hailey, his patrician features soft with compassion. Blythe appreciated his concern, and took his kindness to heart. Even while Hailey slept, Jacob continually watched her. Which Blythe supposed was only natural, since she was the one he would be healing.
Faith. Shiny and bright. She clung to that, holding her little girl close.
After sleeping for several hours, Hailey stirred and woke, one pale cheek red where she’d been sleeping on it. “Mama, are we there yet?” she asked, shifting her tiny body restlessly, trying to kick at nothing.
“Not yet, honey.” Blythe did her best to soothe her daughter. From past experience, unless she could divert Hailey with food, something to drink and entertainment—whether a toy or television—Hailey would begin to act out.
Since Blythe had only juice, she knew it would be rough going. Once or twice, she looked up from her efforts to keep Hailey occupied to find Jacob watching, a sympathetic expression on his face.
The last few hours of the drive began to feel like torture. Bored and whiny, Hailey appeared to be trying her best to ruffle the older man’s feathers while Blythe caught herself holding her breath. Blythe wondered if a man like Jacob would have patience for an exhausted, cranky five-year-old.
To her surprise, he did. To Blythe’s relief, Jacob appeared indulgent, long-suffering and patient. As he answered her daughter’s nonstop, rapid-fire questions, she began to relax the tiniest bit, allowing herself to feel a warm, fuzzy glow. Maybe, just maybe, all her worries had been for nothing.
“Don’t worry,” Jacob said, directing the comment at Blythe as he handed Hailey a pad of paper and a pen so she could draw. “There are many small children in my congregation.”
Then Jacob smiled at her. Blythe found herself smiling right back. That was one thing. Ever since she’d purposely wandered into one of his mega services, she’d liked him. Even though he wasn’t Pack—a Shape-shifter like her and Hailey—she hoped and prayed and believed he’d be able to help her Halfling daughter with the faulty heart.
Finally, Hailey dozed off, giving both Blythe and Jacob a rest.
After what felt like an eternity, they arrived at Jacob’s compound—Sanctuary, she reminded herself—well after dark. Huge gates, which must have been modeled after someone’s idea of the biblical gates to heaven, blocked their way. They were lit up by floodlights and when the driver punched a code into a box, the gates swung open slowly.
“We’re here,” Jacob boomed, once again waking Hailey, who began to sniffle.
“Shh, sweetheart. We’re at the ranch,” Blythe soothed.
At the word ranch, the five-year-old’s eyes opened wide. “With horses and cows and cowboys?” she asked. “Will I get to see them?”
Jacob made a sound low in his throat. Both Blythe and Hailey looked at him, waiting for an answer.
“You’re in the West Texas desert, child,” he finally said, his voice calm although a bit condescending. “It’s summer, you know. So hot that we can barely go outside.”
Hailey squinted up at him. “No horses or cows?”
“No. You won’t be seeing any livestock here.”
His door opened, the driver standing woodenly at attention. Jacob glanced at Blythe. The icy flatness of his gaze surprised her, especially after all the warmth he’d shown during the ride. “My people will tend to you and your child. I will see you again tomorrow morning.”
Without waiting for her answer, he climbed from the car and back stiff, head up, he strode away. He didn’t look back. Then he was gone. Just like that.
* * *
Lucas didn’t sleep well. That night for the first time in a decade or more, the old nightmares returned with hurricane force, as if they’d never left. He woke aching, hurting as though he’d just been beaten. Though his body still bore numerous scars from that time, he’d trained himself not to see them at all. He didn’t allow himself to relive the beatings and the torture.
Thus far, his method of self-hypnosis had worked. Avoidance enabled him to try and forget, to move forward with his life, even if doing so meant he had to steer clear of facing up to his past.
Until today. Hearing that man’s voice again—Jacob Gideon’s—had brought the past rushing right back at him. And realizing the woman and her daughter were in danger had awakened some primal instinct he’d long since forgotten he’d ever possessed.
Apparently, facing up to his past meant making retribution. He hadn’t been able to save his sister. But maybe, just maybe, saving Jacob’s newest victims might help patch that jagged scar in his soul.
So he found himself awake at first dawn. Shaky from lack of sleep and still seething with a peculiar sort of fury, he pushed himself out of bed and began to plan his trip. A journey back to his own personal hell.
He had a choice, he knew. He could turn his back, as he once had for the sake of his own sanity. He could remain here in Seattle or retreat to his mountain cabin up high in the Colorado woods, and pretend he wasn’t worried about the beautiful Shifter woman and her little girl’s fate.
That would be both a lie and cowardly. Whatever else he might be, he was not that. After suffering tremendous guilt from failing to save Lilly, fifteen-year-old Lucas had managed to escape Jacob’s long arm. He’d run away, far, far away from the monster who’d raised him. Now the time had finally come to go back and confront the beast.
No longer a child, he had to stand up, not only for himself, but for the helpless child or—God help him—the woman Jacob might at this moment be setting up for torture.
Confronting his past. He gave a bitter laugh, though there was no one to hear him. This wasn’t what he’d imagined when he’d stood on his mountain gazing at the moon and made his promise.
Part of him refused to believe he was actually going back. Once, he’d sworn he would never return. He’d moved as far away as he could—in both climate and attitude. As a teen on the run, he’d learned how to live among Seattle’s active underground. With a change of hair and name, no one had connected him.
In the years since, he’d grown up, moved on and made a life of his own. After going to work for a custom-home builder as a teen, he’d discovered he had a knack for installing tile, and parlayed that into a successful flooring business.
It would run just fine if he took a few weeks off.
