at their brother’s sudden proclamation. “So why don’t you just ask her out or something?”
Thomas’s face had colored. “I don’t like her,” he protested. “We’re just friends. Nothing wrong with that.”
They were down by Flaherty’s Creek behind Mama Jo’s house “stayin’ out of mischief” as per Mama’s instruction.
“It’s s’ okay, you know,” Christian said, skipping a rock across the water, listening as it splashed to the other side. “If you like her, I mean. She’s pretty.”
Thomas followed Christian’s lead and threw his own rock, giving a short, victorious smile as it skipped one more time than Christian’s rock. Finally, he shrugged. “It’s not like that,” he said. “She’s not like most girls. She’s—” he scratched at his head “—I don’t know, special. She doesn’t notice that my clothes aren’t brand-spanking-new or that I don’t have a bunch of money like the rest of those dumb Yanks do. She thinks I’m funny, too.”
“Funny-looking, you mean,” quipped Owen with a smothered grin before returning to his whittling.
“Ha-ha. Go back to your stick or I’ll tell Poppy Jones a thing or two about you.”
Owen narrowed his stare at Thomas, his green eyes darkening. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“I would.” Thomas gave his brother his best shit-eatin’ grin. “Like how you stare at the back of her head during class with this dopey look on your face.”
Christian cackled and slapped his knee. “You guys both got it bad. You won’t see me drooling over some girl. You gotta get them on the hook before you reel them in. And whatever you do, don’t let them get their claws into you. If you do, you’re done for.”
Both Thomas and Owen shared sour looks but they couldn’t exactly say anything to the contrary, because even as the youngest, Christian had the girls going nuts over him. In fact, they trailed after the kid like he was made of chocolate and they all wanted to take a bite, but Christian never let anyone catch him…at least not for long.
Owen straightened and examined his work. A rudimentary, but not half-bad-looking bear totem stared back at him. He tucked the finished work into his back pocket and went to stand by Thomas. “You know, you’re right. Cassi is different than other girls. She’s cool and I hope you two stay friends a long time. I mean it.”
That quiet statement resonated with Thomas, striking a chord deep inside him. “Thanks, man. Me, too. Yeah…I mean…” He shifted on the balls of his feet and admitted something private. “It would be cool if we did but she’s got all those rich friends…I don’t know. I don’t really fit in with her world.”
Owen knew a thing or two about not fitting in, but he shrugged and said, “Who cares what her rich friends think? Cassi wants you in her world so forget about them. She’s the one who matters, right?”
“Yeah, I guess,” he agreed.
“So make the most of it then. And don’t let her go.”
Thomas shoulder-bumped him with a grin. “Look at you all wise and stuff.” They shared a laugh and then Thomas sobered. “Thanks.”
Owen grinned in answer and opened his mouth to say something but he never got the chance. Christian barreled into them both with a loud battle cry and they all went tumbling into the creek for one last cutthroat game of Drown the Rat before the sun set on the horizon.
The recollection of their laughter drew a soft smile from his lips. He didn’t know why that memory, of all the ones tucked away in his mind, rose to the surface but at least it elicited warmth instead of pain, like the ones before he came to live with Mama Jo.
As far as he was concerned, his life before age twelve didn’t exist. Shaking off the odd melancholy, he grabbed his cell phone and stopped short of giving his superior a status update. He figured there was no rush. The prisoner was secured and it was a five-hour drive back to headquarters. With nothing but time to pass, he thought he’d use the opportunity to satisfy the questions in his head.
It was a foolish idea. Somewhere in his mind there was a stern voice of reason warning him that this was a bad plan but he wasn’t listening at the moment. He could charter a plane on the Bureau’s dime and be there in half the time but he wanted to drive—and he wanted to spend time with her.
CASSI CAME TO WITH A GROAN that was immediately followed by a muttered curse under her breath when she realized she was handcuffed.
Her jaw hurt like hell. He’d punched her. She hadn’t seen that coming. Tommy wasn’t the kind of man who hit women. At least he hadn’t been. But her jaw ached like a son of a bitch so there was no denying what had happened.
She opened her eyes slowly and spared Tommy a short accusatory glance. “I can’t believe you hit me.”
“You were uncooperative.”
“Is it your habit now to hit women?” Given his childhood—she was one of a very small group who knew the details—it was a nasty question. His jaw tightened but she refused to feel bad. He’d punched her in the face. That wasn’t something she was going to forget anytime soon. There was also the fact that she was handcuffed like a common criminal to deal with, too. “I’d have thought that was one thing you’d never do. Seems I’m not the only who’s changed over the years.”
“I didn’t want to. You left me no choice,” he said.
“You had a choice. You could’ve let me go.” His silence told her how futile that argument was but she was more than angry with the man—her feelings were bruised that he’d purposefully hurt her. The Tommy in her memory would’ve beaten anyone to a pulp if they’d laid a hand on her. Now he was the one dealing out the punches. Her eyes stung. She wouldn’t cry in front of him. Instead she allowed a small smirk even though the action cost her as a sharp pain followed. She gingerly worked her jaw. The petty victory could only buoy her spirits for a brief moment but it was enough to keep the tears from surfacing. “You didn’t by any chance happen to grab a small, black leather date book on your way out, did you?”
“You aren’t going to need a date book where you’re going,” he answered and she scowled. “No, I didn’t grab anything but you from that hovel you called an apartment.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” she shot back, an odd pang of embarrassment for her living conditions getting the better of her. What did she care what he thought? “I’ve lived in worse.”
He glanced at her. “Worse? That’s a scary thought. I think I saw a cockroach big enough to cart away a small child.”
“That was Charlie. I feed him scraps. I was training him to be an attack roach. A few more veggie burgers and he’d have been better than a guard dog. I could’ve sicced him on you,” she said dully, feeling ill at the loss of her date book. In her mind, she replayed the scenario again and again, sickened that she’d been so careless with the one important item in her possession.
“So, what’s in this date book that’s so important?”
She swallowed the burn at the back of her throat. Two years of hard work…gone. Why hadn’t she hit him harder? Truth was, she’d pulled her punch a little. She hadn’t wanted to hurt him. Not really. Now…hell, she should’ve knocked
