“Oh shit.” I lowered my gun. “I’m so sorry.”
An older woman was standing there, grabbing her chest. “What is with all the guns?” There were spilled shopping bags on the floor around her feet. Women’s garments sprawled about.
The maid. Shit.
No longer with a gun in his hand, Sal winced. “Sorry. You were an unexpected guest.”
Breathlessly, she giggled. “A mistake I won’t repeat. You can count on that.” She eyed me and grinned. “Hi, I’m Mae. Nice package.” She gestured to the ground. “I brought some, too.”
Looking at my hands to understand what package she meant, I suddenly realized I was completely naked and dripping water. Shit! I covered my ‘package’ and backed away. “Nice to meet you, Mae. Thank you so much for bringing Scarlett clothes.”
Gasp!
My eyes raced to Scarlett, who was now with eyes watering again. “Angel? You got me clothes?”
Pride bloomed and my ego sizzled with satisfaction. I smirked at Sal. “Why, yes, I did.” Beat that, fucker.
It ended up that Scarlett wasn’t fond of clothing. She claimed they felt odd against her skin. I mentally gave another score to Team Sal but told Scarlett, “I understand. Maybe you will like them later.”
I needed to grow up and stop thinking crazy thoughts. I had a Giordano to protect. And right now, that Giordano was wanting her son. “Please, Angel, take your gun and go get him.”
“You know about guns?”
“Fathers always had them. They said guns were needed so no one took what was theirs.” Her artistic hand grasped at her—Sal’s undershirt. “My mother said I was hers. Seth is mine. Please, do not let them keep what is mine.”
I couldn’t help it. I reached out and cupped her face. “I’m so sorry.” When she leaned into my palm, like she did when we were in her basement, I was amazed at how beautiful she was, and how I had missed the first time she had done this to me. Her hair had covered up the sight I would now never forget. I swallowed. “I must protect you first.”
Tears dripped onto my hand. “No. Him. Please. He is my son.”
I couldn’t understand why my face was heating. Why my throat was closing. All I knew was I wanted to fulfill her every command. But I couldn’t, so I whispered, “I can’t.”
When she started to sob, Sal sat next to her on the non-swinging couch and laid a hand on her back as she was facing me. “Scarlett, try to understand. Your son is not being mistreated like you were. They are not hurting him.” He’s the abuser at this point. “Angelo and I need you to be as healthy as possible and ready to be a mother when we go get him.”
Her mouth parted, her breathing grazing my palm. “You will go get him for me?”
Why does my stomach hurt so bad? Why is my chest impossibly tight? “Yes. Someday.”
Her eyes drifted shut. “Thank you, Angel. Thank you.” Nuzzling into my hand, she suddenly said, “Oh,” and pulled her face away. “I got you wet with my sad tears. Fathers do not like them getting them wet.”
Behind her, Sal’s head fell forward. This was clearly taking an emotional toll on him, too.
I told her, “Any of your tears can touch me at any time.”
Reaching past Scarlett, with a hand that wasn’t damp with sad tears, I grabbed his forearm. As if that is exactly what he needed, that same arm grabbed mine.
Best friends were connected again.
It was a time-standing-still moment when a delicate hand laid on our joined arms as if she wanted to be part of this union. Maybe time stood still because it was that exact moment that Sal and I started to realize there was more than a job sitting between us. There was a soul that was calling out to ours.
She hiccupped a cry. “I do not understand why I keep crying.” She sobbed, “But you are both so warm.”
I pulled Sal to me so we could surround her, hold her, and begin to love her. With unpredictable emotions ripping through her, she was wide open and totally exposed, so we guarded and protected the Giordano Princess, who felt more like a treasure to us.
After her tears finally stopped, I whispered, “I think she fell to sleep.”
Slowly, Sal reached for a blanket that was over the back of the couch. He pulled his chest from her back and replaced it with the blanket. “Lay back so she can sleep.”
“What? No—”
Sal ignored me and pushed against my shoulders. Scarlett’s sleeping form followed me down. Sal then lifted my legs, carefully placing them on the couch. “I am going to go and shower.”
I was going to keep refusing, but Scarlett adjusted her body on mine.
Something felt so right; I actually froze in disbelief.
Maybe Sal is right. I am insane.
If Mr. Giordano were to see this, I was a dead man walking.
Mr. Rossi had told us to become untraceable, so that is what I did, but was dumbfounded as to how he would contact us when he was ready to. The only good news was he knew we were in Idaho, near where Scarlett had been. He had that address. I had to trust that crafty man who taught me well, and believe he would find us.
While we waited for some sort of communication from anyone we trusted, Sal and I guarded the house and the ever-mystifying Scarlett—a child trapped in a beautiful woman’s body. The way her eyes lit up the first time we turned the television on, as she stood in front of that flat screen, flabbergasted, gave us a fresh perspective on our Princess’s state of mind. We needed those reminders because, despite knowing the truth of her past, it was hard to fathom just how far her isolation went. Sal finally got her to somewhat understand what the TV was by ‘explaining’ it to her as a moving book.
Scarlett was willing to learn anything and was full of questions, and Sal continued to teach her. She was as curious about the world as her mother. And one of the subjects was her mother. Scarlett wanted to see her.
Sal explained, “As soon as that is possible, that gracious woman will be holding you again.”
“You promise?”
“I do.”
It felt so cruel to keep Scarlett from her mother. Plus, I worried about Isabella. Even though I hadn’t been able to spend as much time with her due to traveling, I was still in contact with her over the phone.
Now, nothing.
So concerned I was making a mistake, not reaching out with my new cellphone, I stood. “I need a shower.” I needed relief, but there was none. Not only was I worried for the ones in my care, and family back at home, but I felt Godawful for leaving all those victims behind when rescuing Scarlett.
Turning off yet another shower—still feeling unclean from guilt, I heard another scream. Grabbing my gun off the sink counter, I ran, primed and ready to shoot.
In the kitchen, Scarlett was crying to Sal. “It will break! It will break!”
From behind the long bar, Sal lifted his hands to me. “False alarm.”
“Not false!” cried the woman. “Alarm! Alarm!” I lowered my gun, studying a hysterical Scarlett. That gained her attention. “Angel! It will break! It will break!”
Going to her, I grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around my naked waist. “What will break?” I pulled her to me because her face was full of terror, and it was killing me to see.