This was the debt I owed. I needed to remember that.
With the barest hints of dawn seeping through the windows of the bedroom, I tossed the covers from my body, and I pushed from the bed and walked straight into the attached bathroom. I shoved my underwear to the floor and turned on the showerhead to as hot as it would go. As soon as it began to steam, I stepped under the scorching spray. Praying for a second of reprieve.
I heaved out a sigh as I glanced down to my abdomen. At the scars. The only thing physical that remained.
If only they would have taken me.
But that would have been too easy. Not close to being cruel enough.
The wicked thirsted for blood.
And this morning, I could taste the fruition of it on my tongue.
“Shit.” I banged around the little kitchen in the guest house, slamming the cabinet doors after rummaging through the contents and coming up empty.
No fucking coffee.
Now that was just cruel and unjust.
I blew out a heavy sigh, grabbing a tee that I’d tossed to the couch and pulling it over my head before I stepped out into the coolness of the breaking day.
For a minute, the humidity was held. A moment’s sanctuary from the Savannah summer heat.
Barefoot, I tiptoed through the stilled hush of the morning, birds chirping through the light rustle of the trees that billowed from above.
If you listened closely enough, you could almost believe in peace.
I made it to the glass wood-framed doors at the back entrance of the main house, and I tapped in the code. The lock gave, and I quietly pushed open the door a fraction so I could slip into the sleeping house without being noticed.
I eased it shut behind me. Eyes on my feet, I roughed a hand through my still damp hair as I headed for the kitchen.
Two steps in, I froze when I realized I wasn’t alone. “Penny. You scared me.”
Somehow, I managed to keep the curse from ripping off my tongue.
The young girl stilled in surprise where she was turning on a burner on the stovetop.
Yeah, she was clear on the opposite side of the kitchen as me, a huge island in the middle of us, but there was no missing the flicker of fear in her eyes when she saw me.
It came right along with a million questions.
“I think it was the other way around.” She searched me.
Wary.
Inquisitive.
Like she was asking me point-blank if she should be afraid.
I heaved out a strained sigh, and I shuffled over to the island, careful to keep a continent between us. I pulled out a stool and tucked myself into it so I was facing her. Figured if I was sitting, I wouldn’t appear so much of a threat.
Knew I didn’t exactly come across as a nice guy.
“You’re up early.” That made for good, casual conversation, right?
I mean, seriously, why did this kid make me shake? My knee was bouncing a million miles a minute under the island, heart still jackhammering in my chest, and I was having a hell of a time maintaining my faked grin.
“You’re up early, too,” she said in her soft voice, studying me as she went to the refrigerator and pulled out butter and a dozen eggs and took them back to the stovetop.
She was . . . cooking.
“Couldn’t sleep,” I told her, honestly.
Curiosity filled her dark eyes, and she glanced back at me as she took a knife to the butter and put a large dollop into the pan. “Me, neither,” she whispered to the nothingness, away from me, but I could still hear.
Like I could taste her fear.
“So you decided to make breakfast?” I tried to keep it light.
“Don’t you know breakfast is the most important meal of the day?” She kept her back to me, working away, her hair in a ponytail swishing down her back.
“Did your mom tell you that?”
“Didn’t yours?” She peered at me for a beat before she turned back to the stove.
I blew out a sigh. “Well, I guess we could say my mom wasn’t quite as cool as yours.”
I could almost feel her blush, the way she was chewing at her bottom lip, barely turning enough that she could steal a peek at me. “She wasn’t nice?”
A turbulence rose up from the depths.
Old, old wounds. Hardened and cracked.
A rubbed my fingers over my lips.
How the fuck was I supposed to handle this?
“She wasn’t exactly nice, no.”
A slash of sadness crumpled her face, her brows drawing tight in sympathy. “Did she hurt you?” she whispered, her expression a flood of worry.
I fought the cynical laughter scraping my throat, and I roughed my hand through my hair over and over again. “Not physically.”
Not me, anyway.
Those dark eyes softened and deepened and saw too many things. Just like her mother. “I’m sorry. Moms are supposed to be our favorite people and it’s stupid and wrong when they’re not.”
Something tugged at that ugly spot that throbbed from within. Still I was chewing at my bottom lip and giving her a tight nod. “Yeah, it sucks. But I think what matters here is that you have one of the good ones.”
I thought it was fear I saw blast across her face before she quickly turned away and cracked three eggs into the skillet. They splattered and sizzled in the hot, melted butter. Scent of it rising into the air, binding with the sudden tension that rippled and shook.
“I don’t want her to die, too.” She muttered it so quietly that I could barely be sure that she’d actually said it.
But I felt it.
A slash across my soul.
“I won’t let that happen.” The promise was out before I could stop it.
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
What was I doing? Assigning myself responsibility? But I couldn’t seem to make myself stop. Not when this kid clearly needed reassurance.
“She pretends like everything is okay, but sometimes I hear her crying at night,” Penny continued. “I hate it when she cries, Mr. Godwin. I hate it, and I want to make it go away. That’s why I couldn’t sleep.”
The last was barely a breath, her head tipped to the floor. The pieces getting loose from her ponytail created a veil across her face.
Like she was ashamed to admit it.
Torment clutched me, hers and mine, her confession wrapping me in leather binds.
I pressed my hands to the stone of the island to keep myself from going to her. The surface cold against the fire that was raging in my veins. “You shouldn’t worry, Penny. That’s why you’re here. So you’re all safe. Your uncle and I are going to see to that.”
I had no idea what I was even promising her, and I thought it was high-time I asked a few fucking questions.
Her chin trembled when she stared back at me. “Are you sure?”
Nothing will happen to you. Not ever. I promise you.
The pathetic oath roared through my mind. Decayed and rotten. Black venom oozed from the pits of this living hell that toiled inside.
I gulped around it.
“I promise. I won’t let anything happen to her.”
Won’t let anything happen to you.
My spirit fired, and I swore, I caught a glimpse of Karma kicking her feet up on the ottoman in the den while sipping a cup of coffee, grinning maniacally behind the mug.
Someone needed to stab that bitch.
“Okay,” Penny whispered.
She turned back to the eggs she was scrambling, and four slices of toast popped up from the toaster. She busied herself, putting butter and jam on the toast and plating some eggs.