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Skyla shook her head, her fingers tightly grasping the seat of her chair until she felt her knuckles going numb. “Otherwise?” The word stumbled out of her mouth before she could think better of it.
Her father nodded, the kindness and love she always thought she saw in his eyes replaced by a cold, hard stare. “There are other things, much worse things I can do than gamble. Trust me, you don’t want me dabbling in that. You’re a commodity, Skyla, and after what you did, you better believe that I am going to milk you for all that you’re worth, and you’re going to cooperate. Unless of course you’d rather be turned into the government and let them run all kinds of tests on you to see just how powerful and useful you can be to them. I bet they could use someone like you to heal their wounded soldiers and agents.”
Skyla’s eyes went wide, and she swallowed hard, not believing her own father was making such awful threats. It was the thing she was most afraid of. Being found out, being exploited. Living in a cage while strangers in white coats poked and prodded her, trying to figure out something she’d never even understood herself. No one in her family, not her mother or her father, had her healing abilities.
“Daddy, you wouldn’t,” she said, her voice now a hoarse whisper of disbelief.
“I would,” he said, sitting up straighter. “If you ever come into my house again, demanding my friends leave or questioning anything I do, you’ll find yourself in a lot more hot water than trying to figure out how to heal a few gang bangers who lent me their drug money.”
Not knowing what to say, Skyla stood and walked out of the room, up the stairs and into her bedroom. Her room was on the main floor of the three-story home, and was decorated with neutral colors, in stark contrast to the bright colors and flare of Madigan’s. Her favorite part of the room was not the walk-in closet or even the luxurious soaking tub in her en-suite bathroom, but rather the large garden window overlooking the back patio, and the pool beyond that.
Of course, Skyla only saw her own reflection in it now and she stood there in silence staring at herself, wondering who she was, who her father had become, and how they’d gotten to this place. Her father loved her. Or so she thought. But of all the horrible things he’d said to her, the worst was knowing that he blamed her for her own mother’s death. Yes, Skyla could heal any wound, but she couldn’t bring back the dead, and her mom was gone by the time Skyla had regained consciousness from being hit by that oncoming truck. She was only fourteen years old at the time. Never in a million years did Skyla even suspect that her father blamed her for that. She thought he understood how her healing power worked. Now, it seemed not only did he not understand, but he didn’t even care. He would use her until she had nothing left, and then he’d discard her like the old bottles of whiskey he and his friends emptied during their games.
Skyla grabbed a small suitcase out of her closet and started throwing clothes into it, but then she collapsed onto the floor, her back against the side of her bed, her legs numbly stretched out in front of her. She had nowhere to go. She’d never held a job outside of her father’s architectural firm and then Madigan’s. She didn’t even have her own bank account. Sure, he’d added her as a co-owner of Madigan’s, and added her to Madigan's bank account, but she couldn’t even write a check from that account unless it was for a previously approved vendor.
Still, until tonight, Skyla felt in control of her life, even if she was just barely hanging on by her fingernails with all the healings she’d been doing to pay back her father’s debts. Now, she finally saw the truth. She was in a prison of his making, and she’d helped him create it by giving into his every whim. By staying home instead of going away to school. By working at Madigan’s instead of pursuing her own path in management after graduating with a bachelor’s in business studies. By living at home to take care of him, her only living relative. By loving him and thinking that he loved her back.
Silent tears streamed down Skyla’s face, as realization hit her square in the face. For the moment, she had no choice but to endure. But starting today, she was going to start planning. One way or another, Skyla would find her way out of this hell and start living the life she’d always wanted, without owing or healing anyone ever again.
***
The next day, Blake woke in a foul mood. His plan to get Skyla to open up had backfired, and he was pissed at himself for even thinking that sharing a piece of himself would get her to do the same. The woman was like a vault and it was really starting to grate on his nerves. As soon as he got to the bureau, he was pulled into some bullshit meeting he hadn’t planned on being a part of, but it was all part of his probationary period crap. When it finally let out almost two hours later, he beelined to Caden’s office and knocked on his door. “Do you have a minute?”
Caden waved him in just as he ended a call. “What’s up?” Caden sat back in his chair and pushed a few inches away from his desk, giving him room to cross one leg over the other.
Blake sighed and sat in a chair across from his friend. “Nothing. That’s the thing. I’m not finding anything more than we already know.” And now Skyla actually knew more about him than he did about her. “Skyla is just doing her job and Nicholas Jamoretti is acting like a perfect gentleman working for tips to pay his way through law school.”
Caden raised a brow at that.
“Apparently that’s what he told Skyla when she hired him. I have no doubt Arlo J provided him with the documents to support that claim. I feel like a damn hamster in one of those plastic wheels.” It was actually much worse than that. He’d done his best to keep a lock on himself whenever Skyla was around, but there was something about that woman, and last night he’d broken down his own walls and opened up to her a little. Maybe it wasn’t her, but the booze she served. Regardless, the only thing he knew for sure was he hated the effect she had on him, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it until this case was closed.
Caden smiled.
“What’s so funny?” Blake asked, slightly annoyed by his friend’s good mood.
Caden shrugged. “This isn’t a race, Blake. When I told you to keep an eye on Madigan’s, that’s exactly what I meant. We might not figure out the role that place has in all this for months, but that’s okay. The longer Royce Madigan strings us along, the more info we’ll dig up. For example, come check this out.” Caden gestured to his computer and started clicking something with his mouse.
Blake stood and walked around Caden’s desk to see the monitor. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Caden that he didn’t think Royce Madigan was a part of all this when Caden pressed play and a grainy video started playing, showing a black SUV pulling up to the back of a building in a narrow alley. “Isn’t that Madigan’s?” Blake asked, recognizing the backdoor of the bar and grill he’d been spending too much time in lately.
Caden smirked. “Yep, and now we have a license plate. Of course, the vehicle isn’t registered to Arlo J, but rather to some shell corporation. I have techs working on it though. We’ll find the connection.”
Blake took a step back. “I don’t like this hurry up and wait thing you have me doing. My instincts are telling me to grab this by the horns and make our move.”
Caden smirked. “Then it’s a good thing I'm the lead agent on this case, because my instincts are telling me there’s still a lot we don’t know. And I personally want to know as much as possible before showing my hand. Which reminds me,” he said, opening a drawer in his desk. He pulled out a cell phone and handed it to Blake. “That’s a clone of Arlo J’s phone. There have been several messages exchanged between him and a number that’s registered to Madigan’s.”
Blake smiled. Finally, something he could use. “This could be exactly what we need -”
A knock on Caden’s door drew both men’s attention. A woman wearing a perfectly fitted pants suit with her blonde hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail entered the room and immediately sat in the chair Blake had just been occupying.
He pocketed the cell phone and stared at her expectantly. When she didn’t say anything, Caden asked, “Can I help you?”
“Oh, no, please continue,” she waved them off as though she was a mere fly that had buzzed into the room.
Blake hated her on sight. “And you are?”
She had some nerve walking into Caden’s office like she belonged here when he didn’t even know who the hell she was.
“Agent Vivian Bennett,” she said. “I was told you’d be expecting me and to just come right in.”
