King steps in. “They’re being financed by someone else. The guy we brought back with us after the church attack in Sydney alluded to that, but he talked around in circles so fucking much we didn’t grasp it. Now the pieces are falling together.”
Winter nods. “It has to be that.”
“So this changes the fucking game,” King says darkly. “Before, we knew who we were dealing with; now we have no fucking idea and have to start from scratch again.”
“What’s the plan?” Ransom asks.
“We find this rat,” Winter says, “and we call in every fucking favour we’re owed to find out who’s fronting the cash.”
Winter glances around the room. “Tonight we all get rest. Tomorrow we regroup.”
As I’m leaving, King’s hard eyes land on me. Every second in the same room has been strained, and what I see in his eyes lets me know nothing’s changed between us.
44
Zara
* * *
“You look like you need to sleep for a year,” I say to Mum twenty-three days after Fury left town. I know it’s been that many days because it’s also been twenty-three days since I gave up sugar. I’ve no idea why I quit it then; it was a dumb idea. I’m pretty sure my body is shutting down; no sugar plus no Fury equals hell.
Mum continues folding her washing. “That’s because I could.”
She doesn’t just look physically exhausted; she looks mentally and emotionally spent, too.
“Stop what you’re doing and sit. I’ll do this for you. And I’ll stay for a few hours and help you with whatever else you have to do so you can have a rest this afternoon.” I say, thankful that Brynn has the kids.
She sighs. “I think it’s all these little jobs keeping me going to be honest. If I didn’t have a million things to do, I’d have time to think about everything and probably lose it if I do that.”
“Mum, you and King can’t go on like this. You need to sort things out with him or at least get on that path. I’m worried for you guys if you don’t.” Hell, I’m worried for them either way. Things blew up for them after King sent Fury to Melbourne because Mum begged him to think about his decision and he didn’t like her getting involved. She’s since tried to speak to him about it again, but he refuses to discuss it.
She nods. “I know and I agree. When he’s home next, I’m going to talk to him.”
“When will that be?”
“Hopefully on the weekend.”
We finish folding the washing and then move into the kitchen where I help her clean out the fridge and write a grocery list.
“I’m going to talk to him again, too,” I say.
“I think that’s a good idea. I know he’s acting like he’s not listening, but I know King, and I know he does listen. Sometimes he just takes a long time to work through whatever he needs to before he’ll come around.”
She’s right. I’ve seen this multiple times in the last eight years. It’s just so damn frustrating that he’s so stubborn.
“Zara,” she says as I sort through the fridge. “I think it’s time you told King about the rape and how Fury helped you with that. It may help him see Fury in a new light over this.”
I’ve been thinking the same thing. Besides my psychologist, there are only three people who know about the rape: Mum, Holly, and Fury. I couldn’t tell King about it because I wasn’t ready for that, but I am now.
“I agree,” I say. “I’ll tell him.”
She stops what she’s doing and looks at me, her features drawn with love and tenderness. “I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve done to get through the horrible things that happened to you. Anyone in your shoes could have become hardened by it or they could have chosen to numb themselves or check out, but you didn’t. You stood tall and faced it.”
“God, Mum, are you trying to make me cry?” I’m two seconds away from doing just that. There’s something about your mother telling you she’s proud that settles deep inside and makes you feel even better about yourself.
She wraps her arms around me. “Only if they’re good tears. The bad ones need to stop.”
They do. And I’m going to pour my heart out to King in an effort to stop my tears falling over not only Fury but also the distance between King and me.