"Don't 'what' me." John's handsome face was twisted in a sneer. "You know we have some things to discuss."
Not sure what to say, what to expect, Jamie just stood there. She knew from his tone that she wasn't in his good graces. She just didn't know why. Or how bad it would be. She didn't move, barely breathing, not wanting to do anything that might further raise his ire.
"Your mother being gone changes things." He sat behind his desk, going through papers. He was still wearing his dark suit from the funeral, but he'd removed the jacket, loosened the tie. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up past his forearms.
Trembling, Jamie couldn't take her eyes off the
HER SECRET, HIS CHILD
muscles that flexed in those forearms with each object he moved.
"Now that your mother's gone, I owe you nothing," he said. "Not a stitch of clothing, not a meal or a bed."
Was he going to kick her out? Adrenaline pumped through her as she straightened in the doorway, waiting for him to continue. If he kicked her out, she'd know there was a God after all.
"I've been supporting you all these years out of the goodness of my heart, out of love and devotion to your mother."
If she hadn't been so excited, suddenly, sensing freedom within her grasp, Jamie would have burned with rage at his lies.
Please let him kick me out. She was barely aware that he'd stood up, that he'd walked to the front of his massive oak desk and rested his lean body against it.
She could get help if he kicked her out. There were places she could go—as long as she didn't have to worry about him coming after her. As long as she was free from the lies, the threats. The violence. Loretta had a huge room. Jamie could probably stay there. She could finish school. Get a job. If he'd just let her go…
"But then, I wouldn't be the man I am if I tossed your little butt out in the gutter where it belongs, would I?" he asked.
Of course not. Jamie's heart sank. How stupid could she be? He wasn't ever going to let her go. Because he'd look bad if he did. He could explain
TARA TAYLOR QUINN
away her tripping on the stairs, falling during a family hike or being thrown from a horse. He'd never be able to explain leaving his seventeen-year-old stepdaughter homeless.
His eyes were gleaming as he watched her squirm in the doorway. Why did it always have to come to this? Why did she always end up reacting just the way he wanted her to? Like…like a helpless bug at his mercy?
"So, my dear daughter, you're going to have to earn your keep."
So, what else is new? The words almost escaped. She'd been doing the majority of the housework for years.
He came closer, slowly, gaining on her inch by inch, his height throwing a shadow on her in the doorway. Jamie didn't want to shrink from him. She forbade herself to give him that satisfaction. Not anymore. Her mother had gone to her grave a beaten woman. Jamie wasn't going to do the same.
"I'm curious." He stopped, pinning her with his cold stare. ' 'How does it feel knowing all of those people were crying today because of you?"
' 'What?'' She shifted away from the door frame.
"You killed her," John said.
His expression had softened and he smiled sadly as he gazed at her. Jamie's heart began to thud so heavily in her chest it constricted her breathing. But she still didn't shrink from him.
"I didn't," she whispered. She wasn't going to let him convince her of something so horrible. She refused to accept any guilt. She'd risked her life for
HER SECRET, HIS CHILD
her mother—many times. Sadie Archer had been the one person in the world who loved her. Jamie would have killed herself before she ever did anything to hurt her mother.
"Of course you did," John whispered hoarsely. He'd stopped a couple of feet in front of her and stood with his hands in his pockets. "Won't do you any good to pretend, Jamie. You killed her as surely as if you'd put a gun to her head."
"No!" Jamie felt the tears start to flow, deep inside, where no one could see them.
"That night you called to ask permission to stay later at the library."