The place probably cost a cool three mil, but who was counting? RJ was just thankful to have a place to hide out, regroup.
Figure out how it had all gone so wrong.
She slid her phone into her pocket, her conversation with Crowley fresh in her mind.
“You found him,” Crowley had said. “And?”
“He lost his memory. We’re not sure what happened, but it looks like he had some head trauma in the crash. He ended up in a small town in Washington State. I found him, and he is piecing things back together, but…we were attacked.”
Crowley had listened to the altercation, and then she’d outlined their plan to go to Vegas. She’d asked him to use the vast resources of the CIA to check into the connection between Slava and Sloan.
He promised to look into it and told her to keep in touch before they hung up.
“Uh oh, I know that face.” Her mother stepped onto the balcony, set down one of the wine glasses she carried, then closed the sliding door behind her.
RJ looked at her mother.
“Reminds me of that day you decided to ride Wyatt’s bike. That ten-speed was way too big for you. But you were determined to ride it, even though we warned you not to.”
“As I remember, I wiped out, and good.”
“And your father—oh, he sprinted all the way down the road—couldn’t get to you fast enough.”
“I felt like a baby when he picked me up and carried me. I was ten.”
“You were his daughter. And he was your father. Of course he’d save you.”
She smiled, her eyes blurry. “Yes, he would.”
Her throat filled.
“Are you okay?”
She sighed. “No.”
“Here.” Her mother handed her a glass of red wine. “Tate told me about the attack.” She touched the bruise on RJ’s neck, and her mouth tightened around the edges. “Good thing York was there.”
“He would’ve never gotten attacked if I hadn’t been so stupid to make that phone call and then follow him to Shelly. I should have just left him alone to remake his life.” She sipped the wine, then set it on a teak patio set. “He was fine until I got there.”
“Oh, stop fooling yourself. He had no memory, RJ. And I don’t care what York has done in the past, a person can’t live too long with not knowing himself.”
RJ shook her head. “You didn’t see him, Ma. He was…he was at peace. And then I walked back into his life.”
She glanced behind her. The lights were on in the main room, illuminating the crowd. Tate was on the phone, pacing in the bedroom, the door open. Coco sat at the long table on her computer, of course. Wyatt was home, too, and sitting on one of the leather sofas next to Mikka, his son. They were playing a video game on his phone. Knox had also shown up briefly, then taken off again, apparently to pick up his fiancée, who’d been hanging out with Glo at some vacation place in Cannon Beach.
“Honey, peace isn’t about our circumstances—it’s about our state of being. York was not at peace.”
She turned to her mother. “He went to the altar at church.”
“Really.”
“Ma, I swear he was a new man when he got up. I saw his face…I’d never seen him so, well, at peace. And I destroyed it.”
“RJ. He was at peace because he was forgiven. He’s still forgiven. Now he just knows from how much.”
RJ drew in a breath, rubbed her hands on her arms. Turned and looked back at the Sound. “I’m worried he’s going to end up hurt—or killed—because of me. I should have never gone to Russia.”
“Oh, now we’re back to that?”
“If I hadn’t gone to Russia, then York wouldn’t have had to rescue me, and Ford—well, he nearly got killed. And then Wyatt got into the mess with Coco, and somehow I brought a serial assassin to America to kill the VP hopeful.”
“Wow, I didn’t realize you were that cunning.” Her mother set down her wine glass on the railing, running her fingers up and down the stem.
“Ma.”
“No, you listen. Every single person on that list had a choice. York didn’t have to come running to your aid, and neither did Ford. Wyatt was just waiting to find Coco, and if some killer wants to take out the VP candidate, well, you’re hardly responsible for that.”
She drew in her breath. “I just feel like…well, like the troublemaker in the family.”
“No, honey, that’s Tate.”
“Ma.”
Her mother smiled. “Actually, you all do your fair share of getting in over your heads. That’s why I came out here—I can’t listen to any more of Tate’s plotting to break into a hotel room of a man who tried to have him killed.” She shook her head. “If I could, I’d wrap you all up and take you home, feed you cookies, and read you bedtime stories.”
“No, you wouldn’t. You were worse than Dad about telling us to go out and live our great adventures.”
She grinned. “Maybe with you. I needed to balance out your father. Your dad liked to protect you, especially after we almost lost you in that cave with Ford.”
RJ winced. “I still remember the way he yelled at Ford. Told him that he shouldn’t have gotten me in over my head. But it wasn’t his fault, Ma. He told me where to swim, but I was curious. I wasn’t a good swimmer, but I didn’t think anything would happen, so I got too near the rapids. Ford had to go after me. And then I refused to let him rescue us.” She shook her head. “I’m so tired of my brothers feeling obligated to help me.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “And I think York feels the same way. Obligated. Because if I’d left him alone, he’d be sitting under the stars with a sweet girl named Raven, who wouldn’t drag him into some conspiracy to kill the VP candidate.”
“RJ. No one is obligated to help you. Or be with you.” Her mother put her arm around her shoulder. “Or love you.”
RJ’s jaw tightened. “I’d just like to know that maybe I was loved by choice, you know? Not just because they’re family and have to.”
“York had a choice—he didn’t have to rescue you.”
Poor man.
If she could, she’d go back to that day that York had made her run away in an alleyway in Russia, leaving him behind, and she’d stay. Fight her battle instead of calling for help from her brothers—any of them. She wasn’t a kid. She didn’t need to be carried or protected.
“Stand back and see what I will do,” her mother said.
RJ looked at her mother blankly.
“It’s what God said to Moses when he faced the Israelites. And then again when Jehoshaphat faced the Moabites. In fact, in that battle, all the people of Israel had to do was praise the Lord. He did all the fighting for them. See, sometimes we get so wrapped up in what we think we need to do to make something happen, we forget that God is actually the one orchestrating it all. Fighting our battles. God will show up even when we’ve made a mess of things. Even when it’s our fault—He will show up. Because that’s who He is—He loves us by choice, not because we deserve His help. There’s no if…just when. And His timing is perfect.”