Page 46 of The Devil’s Lair

“I’m sorry. Bad timing. It’s a coping mechanism, I guess.”

He flinches, staring at the ground as though he wishes he could stuff the words back in. Coping mechanism? Is his tendency to lean toward humor connected to his aversion to touch? I’m curious, but I won’t ask. It’s not my place to.

“I’m not going to run from Oakleigh, screaming, though next time you have a bomb to drop on me, can you give me a little more warning? Or at least offer a stiff drink.”

“I promise. Although there are no more surprises.”

“That’s something, at least,” I mutter.

“It’s about The Lair.” His nostrils flare on a deep intake of air. “I’m not going to dive into the details, but that club saved me on so many levels. It’s why I’ve fought so hard to keep it. Yet something is stopping me from going back, and I don’t know why. I went there after I got out of the hospital. Since then, every time I think about going, I can’t.”

“And that’s worrying to you?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because without it, I have nothing.”

He looks so lost and, yes, lonely, that I find myself saying, “That’s not true. You have your family. And you have Isla and me.”

He looks at me for a long moment, a smile slowly forming. “Yes, I guess I do.”

Chapter Fifteen

REBECCA

A relatively mild January by southern England’s standards gives way to a bitterly cold February. Thick snow lies on the ground, and for days now, more has continuously fallen. Isla and I have settled into life in Oakleigh as though we’ve lived here our entire lives, and since that supportive article about me a few weeks ago, the press intrusion has been relatively quiet. I’ve only had one alert, and when I checked out the article, it was basically a summary of the one I’d already seen.

Isla’s therapy is going well. Mine is more of a struggle. It’s hard for me to talk to a stranger, but I’m trying. According to my therapist, Jane, my reticence is completely normal. At our last session, she explained that building a relationship and rapport takes time and not to worry, that it will come. She assured me that I’m progressing, even though it doesn’t feel like it to me.

So far, the La Salles haven’t withdrawn their custody case. Tobias constantly reassures me it’s only a matter of time and although I believe him, I’ll be relieved when I see the evidence for myself in black and white.

Oakleigh is quiet. Most of the family are away on business, including Tobias. I’ve missed him. He’s become a friend to me and a comforting presence I crave when it’s suddenly taken away. I didn’t realize how much Marcus’s isolation had made me crave company. Looking back, though, I now realize how desperately lonely I was.

I don’t know when Tobias is due back, but I hope it’s soon. For the first couple of weeks, I was content doing nothing, my body and brain glad of the boredom after five years of being on constant alert for danger. But now I’ve begun to heal, I’m going stir crazy rattling round this enormous house by myself, with only Isla and a few staff members for company, all of whom are too busy to spend much time talking to me.

I need a job and to start building that career and earning the money I put in “The Rules.” When Tobias returns from his trip, I’ll ask for his advice. The problem is, I’m not qualified to do anything. There has to be something, though. Perhaps I could learn a skill, except I can’t think of a single thing I want to do.

I envy those people who know from an early age how they want to spend their lives. In my family, ambition wasn’t ever discussed. Only survival. Get a job, any job that pays money, and live your life scraping by, hand to mouth, day by day.

I’m out of my depth and drawn into a world I didn’t even know existed before Marcus dragged me to Tobias’s club under threat of even greater punishment if I didn’t comply. I’m not sure how the punishment could have been worse than what he did to me the night before the shooting. The night I decided to take his gun and fire it into his non-existent heart. But if there was one truth about Marcus, it was his ability to get creative with his punishments.

A raft of goosebumps peppers my arms, and I shiver. On a logical level, I know he can’t hurt me any longer, but I’ve lived so long in survival mode that my body still reacts to thoughts of him and what he did to me for years. Years. If it wasn’t for Isla, I’d have found the courage to leave long ago, but Marcus would never have let me go and take her. He’d have used her as a bargaining chip, just like his parents are doing to me now.

“How about a walk, Isla? We can make a snowman.”

She jumps up and claps her hands, excited. I bundle us up in warm outdoor clothing and jam a hat over her ears. The last thing I need is her getting an ear infection from the biting wind.

As we get to the top of the stairs, Vicky is on her way up, arms full of folders. She drops one and curses.

“Need some help?”

Her head rises. “God, yes. Sorry about the swearing.”

“It’s okay. Stay here, Isla.” I jog down to Vicky and take two folders from her.

“Lifesaver.” We head back upstairs. “Where are you two off to?”