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Genevieve cracked a faint smile. “We’re more than fine.”
Her mom had to stop waiting tables because they decided there was too much traffic in restaurants. What if someone from their past visited Aspen and recognized her mom? Or what if her mom was accidentally captured in a photo taken by a restaurant guest that was later posted on social media? But that all seemed kind of silly to worry about after Genevieve appeared on that ridiculously popular reality TV show. If Jed’s informant, Luke, ran their faces through a recognition search on the internet, he’d be much more likely to find Genevieve’s image from that show than a photo of her mom in someone else’s social media post.
Around the time Genevieve bolted from Reno, Luke had a facial recognition system installed at The Outlaw’s entry and exit points—Genevieve overheard him talking to Jed about how various problem customers would no longer be returning to the casino because he’d be able to alert their security guards within seconds. She’d let the details flow in one ear and out the other without much thought, having no plans to ever return to Reno. But for Luke to further utilize reverse image facial recognition searches to look for her face on the web? How was she supposed to defend against that?
Hopefully, her streaming mass of wavy hair had concealed her recognizable round features and full, pouty lips during the few episodes she’d briefly appeared on. Every time a camera pointed her way, she’d dipped her head so her red-streaked strands would cascade like a veil. Thankfully, she hadn’t been an interesting enough contender for the directors to care much about capturing her face.
Genevieve rolled her neck in meditating circles, willing her muscles to relax as she melted into her mom’s heap of knitted throw cushions. She needed to stop tensing up at every unidentifiable sound and glancing over her shoulder like a stalker was on her tail when she left a room. Jed would have found her by now if he could have. Perhaps he’d given up? Genevieve sighed. Who was she kidding? Nothing stopped Marshal.
Still fumbling about in the kitchen, her mom eyed her forced smile with concern. How did she do that? Mother’s intuition or some kind of special daughter-radar, she supposed. Genevieve’s abdomen pulsed with a hint of laughter as she imagined an invisible radar gun shooting an auto-tuned beam at her from her mom’s sharp mind, and the fluttering sensation stimulated a rush of endorphins she hadn’t experienced in days. Perhaps she’d been a bit of a hypocrite telling Mr. King he should laugh more often when it had been oh so long since she’d laughed freely herself.
“Now, Gen, you need to stop worrying. If we have to leave, we have to. We’ll find a new town.” Her mom let out a loud huff as her tea kettle whistled. “Ugh, that man. Why can’t the Reno police put him behind bars?” She turned off the burner and moved her kettle to a nearby trivet.
Genevieve adjusted one of her mom’s fluffy cushions—knitted with two adorable kittens batting at a ball of yarn—behind her head and kneaded her temple. “We’ve been over this, Momma. His connections run too deep. There are crooks upon crooks covering his tracks. Too many people want in on his dealings—they want the easy money.” She hissed out a breath. “And all these poor people using and abusing illegal drugs to the detriment of themselves. If I could have a superpower, it would be to eliminate all banned substances from the world.”
A frustrated sigh erupted from her mom. “Or the superpower to go back in time and never have met that man.”
“I wish. If only I’d known what Jed was before he got his hooks into me.” Gritting her teeth, Genevieve pounded her fists against the soft cushions. “And you having to change your life too—it’s so unfair. I’m tired of us hiding, jumping, running…shaking in our boots. I wish I could take him down. There are so many things I wish…”
“I just don’t understand why you can’t go to the head of the Reno police. Or the FBI? I know you keep telling me that it’s risky, but?—”
“Who would believe me? With all the warrants and people in his corner?” Genevieve shook her head. “Jed would maneuver to have me locked up until I agree to his twisted terms and then only released under his thumb, and if he gets his hands on me again, he’ll make me marry him.”
“What?”
Genevieve squeezed her eyes shut. “I shouldn’t have told you that. Now you’ll worry.”
Her mom entered the living room with two brown steaming mugs of fragrant minty tea and placed them on coasters on the coffee table. She planted her hands firmly on her hips. “Tell me now, Genevieve Roxanne Hart.”
“No real names, Momma! Anyone could be listening.”
“Oh, hocus pocus.” Her mom pointed her index finger at her. “I’m your mother, and you will not keep important details from me to spare my worries. I’m already worried sick, and my worries won’t stop until you get your life back.”
Genevieve puffed out her cheeks, releasing a loud whoosh of air. “He threatened me with marriage before I ran—when I wouldn’t commit. That’s why he slapped me”—she chopped the side of her hand into her palm—“with fraud and had his corrupt connections in the police follow through without an investigation. He’ll gladly have me put manipulatively behind bars, only willing to spring my release if I agree to marry him.”
“And then do what about the fraud now connected to him through you? The warrants he found a way to anchor you with? The arrest warrant, the bench warrant, the search?—”
“He’ll snap his fingers and make them go away. He’ll clear my name if I play his dear little obedient wife and have his kids.” Genevieve poked her finger down her throat and made a gagging noise. “As if I’d ever marry a corrupt man. I can’t believe I dated him for so long and was completely clueless as to his side hustles. I mean, I knew the casino wasn’t exactly an honest business, but drugs… I can’t stand behind that.” She buried her face in her hands, tears threatening to spill over.
“You should have told me about his marriage threat. Of course it’s stressing you out and bottling it up does no good. You need to talk about these things, Gen. Get them out in the open. You need to trust people. The right kind of people. Me, but others, too. You can’t shelter your struggles from those who truly care about you.”
“I didn’t want you to worry, so I didn’t tell you everything. I’m sorry,” Genevieve whispered through her fingers. “You know what’s really bad?”
Her mom eased by her side and started rubbing circles across her back with her loving hand. “Nothing is as bad as it seems, sweetheart. We’ll find a way.” Frown lines crinkled her face. “Even if it means running forever.”
Genevieve groaned. “This is bad.” She sniffled, swallowing through a lump in her throat. “Before I found out how corrupt he was, I was falling in love with him. Jed made me feel like a queen. I was addicted to his powerful, passionate attention. He’d order others aside when I entered a room. How do you resist a man who puts you on a pedestal? At least until you figure out that he’s not who you thought he was. How do you know when it’s real?”
Her mom embraced her in a warm hug and then shifted back, holding her eyes as she spoke. “You look for a man willing to make sacrifices for you. Incredibly selfless sacrifices—actions that are not necessarily best for him but that are best for you. When both people begin doing that in a relationship, it’s real. I only know because of your father.”
Genevieve nodded while a tear pooled over and trickled down her cheek. “I wish I’d been old enough to remember how you treated each other before we lost him. Instead, I discovered the hard way that I was too green to understand what true love is. I feel like I’ve aged a hundred years since I met Jed. I feel like I know too much about his greasy dealings now—too much to do anything but run, and for whatever reason, he wants me. He’s not a man who changes his mind. His people are like property”—her voice broke on the word—“to him.”
Her mom gently grasped her chin, rubbing away her tears with her other hand. “Gen, only you control you—no one else. You’re smarter than this Jed. You’re warmer…you’re kinder…your father and I chose your name because it’s thought to mean ‘woman of the family.’ He knew his cancer would overtake him with time, and he talked about the strength in you, even in my womb. You kicked like you were willing to fight your way into this challenging world. Don’t lose your fight, Genevieve. There’s no reason you can’t take this man down and his whole network. All you have to do is cut off the head of the snake.”
Genevieve’s throat clogged with emotion. “I love you, Momma.”
“I love you too.” Her mom’s aged features lit up. “Always, Gen.”
Ring. Ring. Ring. Genevieve jumped, and a thousand tiny prickles peppered her tan skin. Their apartment’s landline rattled on their kitchen’s brown-and-white quartz countertop.
