“I had fifteen years to come to terms with it.” I blow out a lazy breath, moving closer to her. “I was safer for those fifteen yearsbehind bars with strangers than I ever was in this place. Dale doesn’t realize it yet, but he did me a favor.”
“Do you know how fucking insane that sounds?”
“Yes. I do.”
She groans, dipping her head in defeat. “He’s going to come after you, I just know it. And because he’s nothing better than pond scum, he’s going to try and twist this to make you the bad guy again, isn’t he?”
“Probably. But I’m not sixteen anymore, Jenny.”
“I know, but being on guard twenty-four-seven will be exhausting. I don’t want that for you…” Her voice trails off as her eyes widen. “That’s why you had me set up all of those interviews. You’re going to hire protection, even though you said you didn’t want a team of people hovering around.”
I nod. “I am, and it’s true. I can handle having one person looking out for me.”
“Like a bodyguard?”
“Kind of. But it’s going to be someone of my choosing. Someone I know, my father—I mean, Dale and Porter, won’t be able to pay off, frighten away, or manipulate.”
She blows out a frustrated breath. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
If she had any idea what I truly had planned, she’d lose her ever-loving mind. But what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her.
“So do I, Jen. So do I.”
Chapter Eight
Ifeel myself rolling before I unceremoniously hit the floor.
“What the hell?”
The bed tips back into place. I blink, wondering if I’m still asleep, until the sound of music blasts through the house. I groan. The house has decided to make me pay a little longer for leaving.
“Fine, you win,” I grumble as I get to my feet and pad to the bathroom. I turn on the shower and climb in once the water is warm. I lift the bottle of shampoo that’s been here the whole time I’ve been gone, and wonder if shampoo goes off. With few options, I take my chances, washing my hair and conditioning it before using the last of the cherry-scented shower gel to wash myself. Before I’ve finished rinsing off all the soap, I’m blasted with icy cold water.
“Goddammit.” I hurry to get the soap off me before climbing out. The second I’m free of the shower, I reach back to turn off the water, only to find it warm again. I narrow my eyes and stick my leg back in. The water is freezing again. With a curse,I turn the water off and use a towel to dry myself, scowling at my reflection in the mirror. I think of all the pictures I’m going to put up and imagine myself putting holes all over the walls. I don’t say anything out loud. The house has a bit of a mean streak.
Tugging open the closet, I look for something to wear. Most of it won’t work. I settle on what used to be a pair of baggy red sweat pants that now fit snug around my hips and ass, and throw on a stretchy white tank top that molds to my body like a second skin. “I’m really going to need to sort out this clothing situation,” I huff as I find an oversized sweatshirt in the back of the closet. It’s a warm morning, so I tie it around my waist, ready to throw it on if I need to.
I brush my hair and pull it up into a ponytail and head downstairs, enjoying the quiet. It’s been so long since I’ve experienced silence like this. It’s both soothing and a little jarring. If I hadn’t been so exhausted by the time I rolled into bed last night, I’m not sure I’d have been able to sleep without all the familiar background noise. As it happened, I was out cold before my head even touched the pillow.
I make my way to the kitchen first and put on the coffee pot, thankful Jen had the forethought to grab coffee and creamer yesterday while she was in town, along with some pastries.
I make my coffee and head toward the back of the house, opening the door so I can sit on the deck steps. I grind my teeth together when I see people working. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”
I take my seat on the top step and pull out my cell phone, which Jen insisted I have yesterday. She set it up and showed me how to use it, making me feel grateful to the woman all over again. I dial the police station first. It takes a fucking age for someone to answer. Good thing it wasn’t an emergency. I’d have been dead before I spoke to anyone.
“Crowhurst PD. Officer Hollis speaking, how can I help?”
“My name is Calliope Hart. I’m up at Corvis Wing Ranch, and I’ve got trespassers on my land.”
There is a pause before the voice clears its throat and then speaks again. “I’m sorry, did you say Calliope Hart?”
“Yes. Did you need me to spell that for you?”
“All officers are busy right now, I’m afraid. I’ll try to get someone out to you later, but I can’t make any promises,” she replies, her voice saccharine sweet.
“So what you’re saying is you have no interest in helping me at all. No worries, I’ll take care of the problem myself.” I hang up, frustrated as fuck. I call Jen before I do something stupid, like stabbing people.
“Why on god’s green earth are you awake right now? You’re not in prison anymore, Calliope. You can sleep in now.”