Retribution (Dark-Hunter #20)(15)
Author: Sherrilyn Kenyon

Her mother rolled her eyes. "He’s like a brother to me. Nothing more."

"Nothing more, huh? Then tell me why he carries a picture of you in his watch?"

Shock etched itself across her mother’s face. "What?"

"You heard me. I saw it the last time he was over here. It’s a photo of you. No man does that for his sister. Trust me."

"I don’t believe you. He’s never, ever said or done anything to act like he was interested in me in any way."

"And I know what I saw."

She wrested her arm out of his grip. "You’re wrong about him."

"No, I’m not. It ain’t natural for a man to want to come around someone else’s family like this."

"You never had a problem with it before."

"I never saw that damn watch before."

Abigail frowned as she saw a shadow moving along the wall. It lifted up and crawled slowly toward her parents. Where was it coming from? There were no windows, and nothing that could cast it. It slinked down the hallway slowly. Methodically. But as a child, she was easily distracted, especially since her parents were escalating their argument. She scurried to her room to find her Scooter doll and hide.

She’d made a nest beneath her bed for just such occasions. It was where she felt safest. Her mother called it her princess hidey-hole. Abigail called it wonderful. With her blanket and dolls, she stayed there and lost track of time until she heard another familiar voice in the middle of their ongoing fight.

Jess’s.

"You don’t deserve her, you bastard."

"What are you doing here?" her father snarled, startling her from her play. "I told you not to come back."

"You don’t tell me what to do."

Her mother’s tone was much more reasonable. "Maybe you should go."

"So that’s it, then?" her father shouted. "After all these years and everything I’ve done for you? You’re just going to throw me out for this piece of random shit?"

Abigail covered her ears as the shouts grew louder and louder.

Her mother’s scream rang out. "Stan! Put down the gun!" The next thing she heard was breaking furniture. Terrified, she dug deeper into her safety blanket and held her breath. She didn’t know why she wasn’t crying. But something told her not to even breathe audibly.

Four loud, deafening gunshots rang out.

Wide eyed, she’d been frozen in terror. Mama … That single word hovered in her mind as tears welled in her eyes. Go check on her….

She couldn’t. It felt as if someone or something held her down and kept her quiet.

Then there was the sound of lone boot heels clicking eerily down the hallway toward her room. Chills raised on her arms.

Don’t move, Abby. It sounded like her mother talking to her. Whatever you do, stay silent and still. Pretend you’re invisible.

Her door opened with a slow arc.

Holding her breath, she peeped from beneath her bed to watch the boots move across her floor.

"Where are you, you little brat?" Jess snarled. He searched the room for her.

He’s going to find me…. Every part of her seized with that fear. I don’t want to die.

"Abigail!" he shouted as he searched through her closet. "Where are you?"

The sound of sirens filled the air, which made him tear through her room as he did his best to find her. She covered her head, terrified he’d overturn her bed.

"We need to go. Now!"

Abigail frowned at a voice that sounded familiar to her. Not as a little girl, but as an adult.

Whose was it?

"I can’t find the brat."

The sirens were getting louder and louder.

"I’ll take care of it," the voice whispered again. "But you need to go."

"Why? It might be better if they find me here."

"I have a better idea."

He let out a sound of extreme frustration as pulsating lights flashed through the windows. "Fine," he snarled. "I’ll trust you, but if you’re wrong, you’ll be joining the other two in the living room."

"Don’t worry, I have your back."

She watched as Sundown stormed out of the room, leaving nothing but bloody footprints in his wake….

Abigail jerked awake to find herself in Sundown’s house.

The memory of the night her parents had died lingered heavy in her heart as the sequence of events was clarified.

Sundown had killed her parents. He’d been lying to her when he denied it.

How do you know that?

Hello? I was there.

Still, there was a tiny part of her that doubted it. Her mind couldn’t reconcile the two sides of Sundown that she’d seen. The fierce protector and the lethal killer.

You’ve killed, too.

But for a reason. Her parents hadn’t deserved their deaths.

"You’re awake."

She glanced over to the door where Sundown was standing. A wave of fury swelled through her, but she fought it down. The last thing she wanted was to warn him of her intentions.

"Yeah." Licking her dry lips, she glanced down to his right front pants pocket, which caused him to arch an inquisitive brow. Her face turned red as she realized he thought she was staring at his crotch and not the other, much smaller bump. "Not on your life, cowboy."

"Dang. Just when I got my hopes up, too."

For once, she didn’t let his charm infiltrate her suspicions. She sat up on the bed. "Do you have the time?"

He pulled an old-fashioned pocket watch out and opened the cover to check it.

Before he could answer her question, she was off the bed and had it in her hand. Her breath caught as she saw the photo that had set her father off.

It was her mother.

"What are you doing with this?"

His face turned white. "It’s not what you think."

She glared at him as she clutched the watch, wanting to strangle him. "What I think is that you’re a liar." She held it up for him to see the picture. "This is my mother."

"It’s not your mother."

"Bullshit. I know what she looked like."

Still, he shook his head in denial. "Look at it again. Your mother had short hair and never wore a dress like that one. Ever."

She turned it back toward her to study it.

He was right. The woman in the photograph had her hair piled up into an extravagant braided bun like a woman would have worn in the late 1800s. Her high-collar, white lace blouse was adorned at the neck by an antique cameo. Like her mother’s, the woman’s eyes glowed with warmth and kindness.

But the most startling fact was that their features were eerily identical. The same sharp cheekbones and dark hair. Eyebrows that arched at an angle above kind eyes. But her mother’s eyes had been blue. The woman in the photograph had dark eyes. Even so it was like staring at her mother all over again.

"I told you your ma reminded me of someone." Jess covered her hand with his. "Now you know."

That touch sent a chill down her spine. "Who is she?"

"Matilda Aponi." There was a catch in his voice that told her the mere mention of the name pained him.

"And what was she to you?"

He took the watch from her and closed it. "Does it matter?"

Obviously the woman had mattered a lot to him. "You loved her."

"More than my life."

Those heartfelt words actually made her ache. She’d never seen so much love in a man’s eyes for any woman. It was so intense and unexpected that a part of her was actually jealous of it. She’d give anything to have a man love her so much. "Are we related to her?"

He started to turn away, but Abigail wouldn’t let him. She reached out and touched his arm as a creepy suspicion filled her. Please let me be wrong.

"Am I related to you?"

"Oh God no," he said, his eyes widening in horror. "I’d have never let you kiss me like you did if you were."

That was a relief. "She married someone else, then?"

He inclined his head to her. "It wasn’t meant to be between us."

Abigail didn’t miss the way he stroked the watch as if it were a part of Matilda, or the agonized grief in his eyes as he talked about her.

"She was too good for me anyway. I’m just glad she found someone who made her happy." He slid the watch back into his pocket, then changed the subject. "Andy has some food for you. I’ll go ring him to bring it."

Abigail didn’t try to stop him from leaving this time as she digested everything.

Could a man capable of that much love for someone else be the monster she thought he was?

While she had no doubt he was more than capable of killing her father, she seriously doubted he would have slaughtered her mother. Not with the feelings he’d had for Matilda. It didn’t seem to fit.

Could it have been a shape-shifter? There were plenty who could have worn his skin.

But who and, most important, why? What would anyone have to gain by framing him and not turning him over to the authorities? And why kill her parents?

Her head ached from trying to decipher it.

I have to find out the truth and make whoever killed them pay. She owed her parents that much.

She turned back toward the bed to get her shoes, when a disgusted sound made her pause.

"What do you mean I can’t go?" It was a voice she was unfamiliar with that sounded like someone standing not too far from her room.

"I thought we’d settled this, mite," Jess said sternly.

"Ah hell no, we didn’t. You let me go up to Alaska with you, and I was a lot younger then."

"And there were other Squires there to watch your back. Not to mention, I was dumb enough not to know how much danger was there. This time I know, and you’re not going."

"I hate you, you decrepit bastard."

Sundown scoffed. "I hear you. Now take that to Abigail and mind your manners, pup."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." A few seconds later, he knocked on her door.

"Come in." She couldn’t wait to see Sundown’s Squire.

Andy walked in with a tray that carried a bottled Coke, water, and a plate filled with chicken, roasted potatoes, and green beans. He paused to eye her suspiciously. Dressed in jeans and a red T-shirt, he appeared to be around her age and extremely cute. Except for the slight curl to his lip, as if it made him ill to be in her presence.

"You must be Andy."

"Yeah, and if you hurt Jess, so help me, I will hunt you down to the farthest corner of hell and make you wish to God you’d never breathed air. You hear me?"

Well, that was most unexpected. "You greet everyone this way?"

"No. I’m usually very nice. But you … you have no idea how much effort it’s taking for me not to kill you where you stand."

She returned his sneer with one of her own. "Bring it, punk."

"Don’t tempt me." He moved to set the tray at the foot of the bed. Closer to him now, she realized he was almost as tall as Sundown. Though without the massive muscles and aura of I-can-kick-the-crap-out-of-you, it wasn’t quite so apparent at first glance. Unlike Sundown, he didn’t dominate the room or her senses.

Andy started for the door.

"Why are you so protective of him, anyway? I thought Squires hated their Dark-Hunters."

He paused to give her a look that asked are-you-effing-nuts? "Our Dark-Hunters are our family. There’s nothing we wouldn’t do for them. Even die for them if we had to."

"That’s not what I’ve heard."

He scowled at her. "From who? Daimons? Apollites? If the DH are so bad, explain to me why some of the above have been known to work and live with Dark-Hunters themselves."

She rolled her eyes. "Now I know you’re lying to me. There’s no way an Apollite would ever work for a Dark-Hunter."

Crossing his arms over his chest, he gave her a droll stare. "Babe, I know two of them who married one." He jerked his chin toward the door. "Ishtar Casino, here in Vegas, has a whole staff of Apollites who work for Sin Nana … who up until about four years ago was a Dark-Hunter, and he was doing his duties while they worked for him. Hell, half of them helped him, and when he was attacked, they and even a Daimon fought to protect him."

Abigail would argue, but she knew Apollites who’d worked there, and she knew Sin owned it. "How do I know Sin was ever a Dark-Hunter?"

"Why would I lie?"

"It could be pathological."

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I’m not going to argue with you. Don’t like you enough to bother. But like I said, you hurt one hair on his head, and you will regret it. Jess is my family, and he’s been through enough damage in his life. And in spite of all the shit people have done to him, including his best friend shooting him in the back and in his head on the day of his wedding at the feet of his fiancee, there’s not a more decent human being ever born." He turned and was out the door before she had a chance to say anything else.

Stunned, she stood there as that last bit hit her like a fist.

Shot in the back on his wedding day? An image of Matilda and her mother went through her mind. For a full minute, she couldn’t breathe. She could see it all in her head so clearly.

It wasn’t meant to be. Sundown’s words echoed in her ears. No wonder he’d been so sad when he talked about her.

To be with her mother, who looked so much like Matilda, must have killed him.