Page 64 of The Man with a Treasure

She leaned back, eyes wide again.

My best friend, the brute, had scared our little injured bird. “Angelo, go find any medical supplies we have, a large bowl of warm water, and a towel.” Due to our dangerous line of work, we always had some sort of medical emergency kit in a vehicle or in a suitcase at our hotel.

Angelo had wanted the rope off her for hours now. I was more than happy to oblige.

My heart ached for Scarlett as she watched him leave, suddenly apprehensive. I assured her, “He’ll be right back.”

“Promise?” she asked.

Our little injured bird was a fast learner.

I smiled, “Promise,” then held up my undershirt.

Her joined hands reached out to touch it. “Wow,” she whispered. “A shirt.”

You would have thought I just offered her a personal invitation to Heaven with the way she gazed at the item I wore, to avoid sweating up my silk shirts.

Swallow… I will never take my clothing for granted again. “Would you like to wear it?”

Her eyes widened, then quickly darted around the room before leaning forward to whisper again. “I am not to wear any.”

With one hand, I gently took hold of hers. “Since,” I couldn’t stomach what those men were to her but forced myself to say, “your fathers aren’t with you anymore, maybe you can start. We can keep it simple for now. Deal?”

“Deal?”

“An agreement.”

After she nodded, I went to put the shirt on her, completely forgetting it was impossible until her hands were separated. God, your wisdom is needed. Please guide me.

Keeping Angelo from growling was becoming quite the task. As gently as I could, I soaked Scarlett’s wrists, trying to soften her skin. I knew a doctor should have been the one trying to separate the rope from her wrists, but bringing one to the house would cause too many questions. According to her nonexistent paper trail, there should be no Scarlett Giordano. The last thing we needed were authorities breathing down our necks.

In a chair next to her, Angelo hissed at the sight.

Sadly, Scarlett had a high tolerance for pain. With my undershirt laid over her lap, she barely winced as I slowly pulled the rope, slightly tearing her tender skin.

I asked her, “How long have you been tied like this?”

“I do not know.”

“Do you know how old you are?”

She looked to Angelo, then shook her head at me.

Still working on her wrists, I tried to smile. “According to your mother, we think you are about twenty-five or twenty-six years old.”

“Wow,” she said in awe. “I still cannot believe she was not sold.”

Scarlett spoke as if she had learned her English from someone who spoke it as if it was their second language. Yes, her mother was this person, but Scarlett had been in the States for so many years, it was surprising to hear her say, cannot, instead of can’t. These little details were important because it helped Angelo and I understand how much communication Scarlett had with other people after her mother was taken.

Such as the word sold. She said it as if not even sure what it meant.

I told her, “She misses you so much.”

Scarlett watched my work in the bowl. “They did not tell me what happened to her. I cried for a long time. I was so little.” She sighed. “Seth used to be little, too.” I internally jolted at the mention of the child demon. “Now, he is so big. I did not know he was getting so tall.” Her fingers wiggled in the water in a playful or nervous manner. “Can I have him with me? They would not let me have him.”

Angelo quietly told her, “It is important that we focus on you first.”

Scarlett didn’t speak for a few minutes, but finally said, “I wish I knew how old he is.”