I glared up at him. “I will notsettle down! I cannot believe you’re poking into my uncle without my permission!”
“Really? You can’t believe it?” He scoffed. “You can’t believe I’d find out someone fucked you over, forced you into a life of show business against your will, performing like a trained monkey at a circus for his benefit, andnothave a reaction to that? You can’t believe I’d learn that same someone stole all your money, left you penniless at fifteen years old when you’d finally had enough and took off, andnottry to punish the bastard?”
Gwen and Flo had big freaking mouths. One of them must’ve spilled the beans about my financial woes. (I was guessing Gwen. She folded faster than a beach chair whenever confronted with her boyfriend’s naked body — a fact she readily admitted after several shots of tequila.)
I continued to glare up at him. “I’m not your problem to fix, Cade.”
“You’re right. You are not a problem, Imogen. You are a purpose.”
Damn.
That was a nice thing to say. Hearing it took some of the wind out of my sails. I persevered anyway. “Please understand… That part of my life is over. I want to keep it that way.”
“You’re still running from it. That means it’s not over.”
My lips pressed together.
“Only way you’ll be able to stop running is if this shit is finally dealt with,” Cade declared. “And I don’t want you running anymore, beautiful. I like you right where you are.” He gave me more of his weight, as if to underline his point.
Double damn.
Not only did the move feel deliciously good, that was an even nicer thing to say. Still, I was determined to make him understand.
“My uncle… He is not someone you want to mess with, Cade. He has some powerful friends and deep connections. Before I left Florida, I tried to sue for emancipation. He threatened to have a psychiatrist declare me mentally incompetent. Told me he’d get one of his judge buddies to put me in a conservatorship, so I’dneverbe free of him, even after I turned eighteen.”
“Fucking bastard.”
“Finally, something we agree on.”
“You aren’t a kid anymore, Imogen. He can’t touch you — not legally, not physically. Not even emotionally, so long as you don’t let him.” He bowed his head, aligning our faces in the dark. “He’s kept you in a cage of fear for so long, you don’t know what freedom feels like. I’m going to make sure that changes. I’m going to make sure you’re free and clear if it’s the last thing I do.”
Free.
Free and clear.
Triple damn.
Tears filled my eyes in a sudden rush. “That’s too much. I can’t ask?—”
“You didn’t ask. I offered. And, frankly, even if you tell me to stop, I’m not going to. I might not be able to undo the hurt in your past. But I can sure as fuck make sure there’s no more in your future.”
“That’s—” My voice cracked. The tears spilled over.
He kissed them away, his lips soft against my cheeks. “Sleep now, beautiful. It’s late and I have to be out of here early.”
That’s when I decided.
To trust.
To try.
To take a chance.
“Wake me before you go,” I said shakily.
“Why? You should sleep in a bit. The Gallows is closed on Mondays.”
“I know.” I took a breath. “But I want to come with you. I want to help with the case. To try, at least. I might not be any help, but if there’s even a small chance I can bring Rory home…”