Of course. She should have known. “What did he say?”
“He didn’t.” Lucas drew the loose strands of her hair back and tucked them behind her ear, setting off an electric current of want that had her biting her bottom lip. “He just glared at me and dropped off the shirts.”
She could picture that. The Sparrow was short, thin, and ever vigilant. The only things he seemed to hate more than strangers was a dull knife or an enemy who died too soon.
“Don’t take it personally,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips. “He looks at everyone that way.”
“Except you.”
True. She’d always been the exception that proved the rule. Well, her and her mother. Jasper had always been up to too much trouble, talked too much, and played too many tricks for a man like the Sparrow to put up with.
“He was practically my governess growing up.”
“You had a governess?” Lucas asked, a teasing disbelief lingering in his words.
“I had something better. I had the Sparrow.” She’d learned early on that there was more to her father’s number one enforcer than appeared. He’d had a soft spot for kids, never met a stray animal he didn’t want to adopt, and was a fabulous teacher, even if the skills he was imparting weren’t exactly age appropriate. “I could pick a lock by four, hit a distance target with a throwing knife at eight, and by ten, I could get to every cave and hideout on the island undetected.”
“And you decided to be a jewelry designer instead of a ninja warrior?”
“The Sparrow is the one who gave me my first sketchbook.”
All those blank pages just waiting for her to make her mark. The memory of her first taste of creative freedom blocked her throat with a lump of bittersweet hope. Until then, she’d never imagined being able to make her own reality away from her stepfather’s watch. It was the best gift she’d ever gotten.
“You sound like you care a lot about a man who would do this to you.” He pulled down one of her hands tucked under her chin, turned it palm up, and traced his thumb over the raised scar of the M and I carved into it.
Glad again for the protection of her closed eyes, she clenched her jaw tight and willed back the tears so quick to come. The sharp, slashing pain in her hand had been nothing compared to the agony on the Sparrow’s narrow face as he’d pulled out his favorite blade and drew first blood.
“My father wanted to do much worse. The Sparrow came to my defense. It was touch and go, but my father agreed. Forcing him to be the one to actually mete out the punishment served a dual-purpose. Rolf isn’t a man who forgives opinions other than his own.”
“Why did he defy your father?”
Were his questions a way to interrogate an asset? Probably. Still, the words came pouring out.
“The Sparrow has loved my mother for as long as I’ve known him. I think at least some of that transferred down to Jasper and me.”
For a man like Lucas who only saw in black and white, the stream of grays that made up life growing up on Fare Island must be an anathema.
“Does Rolf know?”
She nodded. “He doesn’t care. My mother isn’t well. She’s…” She paused, trying to think of a way to sum up
her mother’s fragility. The days she’d spend in bed. The constant dark circles. The listlessness. The air of hopelessness she’d always tried to cover with false cheer. “A little bit broken. Rolf considers her as his owned property. She’d never dare to cheat or leave him. Anyway, I think he enjoys watching the Sparrow’s misery.”
Her stepfather had found so many opportunities to throw the Sparrow and her mother together. Special guard duties on her shopping trips to Paris. Keeping her company on the days when she couldn’t get out of bed. All of it with the unspoken threat hanging over both of their heads if they gave in to temptation. The man was a conniving tyrant, and he ruled Fare Island with an unbreakable fist. That was why she and Jasper had to break free for good. Her mother, she knew, would never go. Whatever bond held her tight to Rolf’s side was beyond severing, but she and Jasper could do it. His connections in the U.S. could help them disappear. Even as pissed as she was at him for lying to her, she wouldn’t walk away from her brother. Not now. Not ever.
For a while, she and Lucas lay quiet together. Maybe he was denying the reality outside this bed as much as she was. But, finally, he spoke.
“Why do you call him your father to his face if he’s not? Jasper calls him Rolf.”
Lucas’s question yanked her out of their protective, pretend cocoon. She opened her eyes, the sun temporarily blinding her to her surroundings. Then, she blinked and the world fell into place around her. Fare Island. An arms deal. Blackmail. Her best chance at freedom.
“For the same reason he always finds a reason to keep the Sparrow near my mother,” she said as she threw off Lucas’s arm and sat up. “To remind him of what he does not, and never will, have.”
…
Half an hour later, Lucas found himself struck dumb in the dining room.
Quick wits were his most prized skill. It was what had gotten him from being the neglected child of an addict to being at the point of the spear when it came to keeping Elskov safe. He’d always depended on them, used them, exploited them. Looking at the twenty-five pictures of floral arrangements spread out before him, his wits fled him like a rat jumping off a sinking ship. Lives on the line? He could come up with a workable plan in heartbeats. But this? He had nothing.