Page 75 of The Man with a Treasure

Sal grabbed his chest in relief.

I held my hand out for her to come to me. “Yes, you are safe now.”

As those delicate wrists separated again, she took timid steps across her mattress. “Nighttime scares me.”

I was beginning to wonder if all my talks and experiences with Isabella were to help prepare me for Scarlett. That thought had me understanding my feelings for Scarlett. I loved her mother. She was a woman to admire, due to her strength and determination, even when on the brink of despair. I wasn’t insane to care so deeply for someone I barely knew. That is because I did know Scarlett.

And I hated it.

Although Scarlett and Isabella were not the same people, due to the life of abuse they had been forced to live, and possibly even due to some inborn familial qualities, they were so eerily similar that knowing one meant knowing the other. Scarlett was much more innocent of the world as she had not experienced anything outside that basement. But other than that, they shared the same mannerisms, had the same fears, lived the same nightmares, and fought the same demons.

I wasn’t sure why at the time, but subconsciously, I sensed how painful caring for this woman would be. I had to fight for Isabella’s friendship. Her family didn’t want me close to her. How would they feel about me caring for Scarlett?

Let me tell you.

They would hate it, too.

I wished they could understand that spending moments with someone as they share their darkest secrets creates a formidable bond. Spending every day and waking minute with them, as I had with Scarlett? That person becomes a part of you. It was an impossible situation. To avoid caring more for Scarlett, I would have to be apart from her. To be apart from her would mean certain death. Sal and I were all she had. And if I left, Sal would most certainly follow.

In surrender, I told her, “You are so much like your mother.”

Her mouth—those perfect flared lips—parted in surprise. Soft fingers touched my sinned ones that had taken many lives. I felt my fingers had no right to touch the gentle spirit before me.

Exhaustion suddenly filled my soul as I nodded. “So brave.” I stared up at the beautiful female. “Just like you.”

A shaky hand covered her mouth as the kindest tears filled her eyes. “Like me?”

It took a lot of energy to inhale. “Yes. Just like you.”

Scarlett lowered to her knees. “Will you tell me more about her?”

My energy faded as my thumb caught a courageous tear on her lovely cheek. “Of course.”

Her face nuzzled into my hand. “Thank you.”

At the door, Sal dipped his chin and then left the room.

Whether I had the drive or not to talk, Scarlett and I talked until morning, sitting at the head of her bed. Scarlett’s head eventually fell to my shoulder. The sun was up. Her fear was gone.

Once again, I left the Giordano Princess to sleep.

In the living room, Sal was staring out a sliding glass window. He must have seen something in the dark. There was a gun in his hand, but how his fingers were relaxed, I knew it was a false alarm. “Would you like some coffee?”

Drained, I rubbed my short beard. “I can make some.”

“A pot has already been made.”

Walking to the kitchen, I saw a bone broth stewing in a pot. Sal was doing an old recipe to help Scarlett’s stomach. “You are so good for her.”

He kept staring out the window. “So are you.”

Because they weren’t true, those words annoyed me. “Part of the job, right?”

He puffed a laugh, but it lacked honesty. “Is that what that was?”

I grabbed a cup from a cupboard. “What, talking to her?”

He let out a slow exhale. “Since your father’s death, I’ve watched you change.”