Her back straightened, and she folded her arms against her chest. “Listen, I’m not some fragile waif who’s going to be a sobbing mess because I didn’t get my way, so let’s just drop it.”
“Fragile is the last fucking thing I think you are. You’re a goddamn gladiator. You’ve gotten under my skin, Kins. So far I don’t even know what to do about it. I’ve spent my whole life keeping people at bay, and it’s all I can do not to draw you closer. The way I feel around you scares the hell out of me. That was what my no meant earlier. I just didn’t have the words.”
“I thought you were worried I might have a flashback of the rape. That’s why I moved away from home and changed my name. People look at you differently when you … when—”
“I know,” he said in a hoarse whisper.
Kinley’s eyes widened. She waited a beat, then two, the silence growing thick in the space between them. “Tell me.” Her soft demand made him take pause. He’d learned details of her horrific captivity at the academy in Virginia, and more from the details she’d told him, and yet he’d shared nothing about his own trauma.
“I never knew my father, and neither did my mother—if I can even call her that. Men were coming and going all the time. She used whatever money she had on her next fix, until she had squandered everything and the only thing she had to offer up was some alone time with one of her sons.” His voice was detached. It was much easier to talk about when he could isolate and lock down his emotions. “My mother said if one of us told, she’d kill the other. We finally worked up the courage to say something to a teacher. Wish I’d done it sooner, but I was so afraid of gathering the nerve only to have someone not believe me, or think I’d encouraged it in some way. Law enforcement removed us that day. Some of the foster homes we were placed in were bad, but nothing like the dirty apartment where we spent the first decade or so of our lives. I’ve gone to enough therapy sessions to know that what those drug dealers did to me, what they forced me to do to them, wasn’t my fault. Still have trouble talking about it. Only my siblings know, and now you, too.”
The empathy in her eyes gutted him. Tears had pooled in the golden depths, but she blinked them away before they could spill. Fierceness stole over her face, and she stood. The chair clattered back, hitting the center island. She rounded the table and held out her hand. When he slid his palm against hers, she gave him a light tug, and he stood up. Her arms came around his torso, grounding him against the unexpected onslaught of hatred and disgust for what had happened to him and his brother, to Kinley. For millions of innocents suffering at that very moment.
“Where is she now?” Kinley asked.
“Dead.” She should’ve had to answer for her crimes, be put through detox which would’ve been its own version of hell, and locked in prison for the rest of her days, but her heart had stopped with a needle in her arm. It was more peaceful than she deserved, but she couldn’t hurt anyone else either. “She overdosed before her trial.”
Kinley nodded into his sweater. “We chose a life of service, of helping instead of causing harm. No one can take that away.”
“Because of what we’ve been through, there are some who won’t have to.” There was a prickle behind his eyes, and he tightened his jaw to push the odd sensation away. He’d worked hard to be physically and mentally tough. To never again be taken advantage of. And yet the tiny powerhouse in his arms had him blinking back tears. He hated to be touched, especially for comfort. Yet, last night, he’d held her, and right now, she felt so damn good against him, like she was made to fit into the crook of his shoulder. He was fucked.
He allowed himself a few more moments of bliss. He stood in the kitchen with late-morning light streaming through the windows, holding Kinley against him. He drew her summer-island scent into his lungs and committed to memory the way the soft strands of her still damp hair felt against his cheek. Then he stepped back slowly. “I need to touch base with my superior, then, we’ll go across town to your place.”
“Thank you.” The sincerity in her voice was a reminder that Kinley wasn’t used to reaching out for help. Except for his brother, Gus, no one had her back in a long time. It made him want to be there to catch her when she fell, or in Kinley’s case, cover her while she leaped headfirst into the fray.
“You don’t have to thank me. We all have something to gain from nabbing this guy.” The sooner Kinley was free of this sick degenerate, the sooner they could move on with their lives.