“Tell me you love me,” his father would demand. “Say it. Say it!”
Eventually she would give in. She would speak the words, then say them louder, as he insisted. When she promised to love him forever, he would walk away.
Cruz remembered the silence. His mother made no noise as they both waited for the sound of the car engine, proof that the storm had passed and they were safe again.
Cruz would wait in the hallway, huddled and scared, until she dragged herself to her feet. She would tell him she was okay, even as she washed away the blood. His father had not only broken bones; he’d shattered her heart and her will, time and time again.
The last beating had seemed to go on forever. He’d been twelve-old enough to want to protect her. When he’d gone after his father, the old man had hit him hard across the face. So hard, Cruz had fallen, his ears ringing and his vision swimming.
“Do that again, boy,” his father had growled, “and I’ll kill her.”
In that moment, with his mother begging for both of them, with the steady thud of fists making her scream, Cruz had vowed everything would be different. He’d earned the money to buy a gun from a kid down the street, and he’d used it to make his father go away.
He knew it could be different. He knew that there were fathers who loved their children. Manny, his partner, was one. He adored his kids and they adored him. They did things together-like a family. They cuddled up on the sofa to watch TV. They went camping and to baseball games. When the kids were hurt or scared, they ran to him. It didn’t occur to them to think he might hit them. They didn’t know what it was to fear their father.
But Cruz knew. He knew the darkness that lurked, the pain that followed. He knew what it was like to be afraid to breathe for fear of being noticed. He knew what it meant to pretend not to see the bruises on his mother’s face and arms, to know she would conceal them from her employers so they wouldn’t ask questions…or worse, fire her.
He also knew he was just like his old man. Once, when Kendra had been a baby, she wouldn’t stop crying. He’d had her for the afternoon and the shrill noise had gone on and on. He would have done anything to make it stop. He’d wanted to shake her. Instead he’d waited outside until his mom had come back. She’d comforted Kendra the way he never could.
He’d seen then what he could do to his daughter. How he could hurt her. He knew where he came from and knew staying away from Kendra was better for them both.
He remained in his office until it was well after midnight, then quietly went upstairs.
The lights were off in the master bedroom. He opened the door and saw Lexi on her side of the bed. If she wasn’t sleeping, she didn’t acknowledge him, and he moved down the hall.
Kendra’s door was closed. He opened it without knocking.
His daughter lay curled up in the center of the bed. During the day she was smart and confrontational and nearly grown-up, but asleep, she looked small. C.C. snuggled next to her. Both were asleep.
He studied Kendra, wondering if any part of himself was in her and hoping it was more helpful than what his father had given him. Then he pulled up the covers, smoothed the blanket and left.
Tonight he would stand guard. Both Kendra and Lexi would tell him they were fine without him and maybe they were. But he would stay awake, just to be sure.
“YOU HAVE GOT TO be kidding,” Kendra grumbled as she walked into the kitchen. “Are you watching too much
Lexi ignored the sarcasm and set two slices of French toast on a plate, which she pushed toward the teen.
“We don’t have cereal,” she said. “I didn’t know how you liked your eggs. So you’re stuck with this.”
“I don’t eat breakfast,” Kendra told her. “It’s a waste of calories.”
“Not eating in the morning makes a person crabby, which you are aptly demonstrating. The sooner you eat your breakfast, the sooner you can leave.”
Kendra grumbled something under her breath, then dropped her backpack on the floor with a thunk. She took the plate and picked up one of the slices, then ate.
“Milk?” Lexi asked, making sure she didn’t sound pleased she’d managed to win one round.
“Coffee.”
Did teenagers drink coffee? Lexi hadn’t. Still, she poured a cup and handed it to Kendra, who took a sip.
“How do you get to school?” Lexi asked.
“Bus.”
“Your bus comes here?”
“It’s a different bus, but yeah, it works this neighborhood. Even rich kids gotta graduate.”
“You live in the same school district as your dad?”
Kendra raised her eyebrows. “The same high-school district. Our condo is only about three miles from here. He didn’t tell you that, either?”
“Obviously not.”
So Kendra was practically within walking distance and he
Kendra glanced at the clock on the wall and yelped. “I’m gonna miss my bus. See ya.”
She set down the plate, grabbed her backpack and ran to the front door. Lexi poured herself a cup of coffee and wondered how she was going to fix this. Not that it was her problem. Still, she couldn’t just ignore what was happening. Kendra and Cruz needed each other-they just didn’t know it yet.
CRUZ WALKED INTO LEXI’S office shortly after two that afternoon. She told herself she wasn’t happy to see him, even as her hormones began their very familiar dance of excitement.
It was all about chemistry, she thought, as she stood and moved around her desk. Something about his pheromones or her nervous system created a nearly uncontrollable need that swelled inside of her every time she was near him.
He looked good as he crossed the room. Tall and determined, in his perfectly fitted suit.
She wondered if he was there to apologize for their fight the previous evening. Maybe he’d figured out the importance of forming a relationship with his daughter, although she had her doubts. Cruz was determined not to care.
“I have to tell you something,” he said, surprising her with his serious tone. “You should probably sit down.”
Panic chased away arousal. “I don’t want to sit down. What is it?”
He took her hand in his and stared into her eyes. Fear chilled her from the inside.
“Cruz, what is it? Has someone been hurt?”
“Nothing like that. Everyone’s fine. I have something to tell you about Garth Duncan.”
“How bad could it be? Does he have some weird grudge against me?”
“Not just you. Maybe the whole family.”
“You’re not making sense.”
Cruz gripped her hand tighter. “Garth is Jed’s illegitimate son.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
TWENTY-FOUR HOURS later Lexi was still reeling. She couldn’t get her mind around the information Cruz had brought her. How could Garth be Jed’s son? Why wouldn’t her father have acknowledged him? These weren’t the eighteen-hundreds. The social stigma of having a child before getting married was long gone.
Which led her to another thought. Why hadn’t Jed married Garth’s mother?
She paced the living room in Cruz’s house, waiting for her sisters. She’d called Skye and Izzy last night and asked them to come by. Fortunately Izzy was on an extended break from her work. One of the advantages of long days on an oil rig. When they finally let you off, you weren’t due back anytime soon.
As she passed the coffee table, she saw the slim folder. There wasn’t much in there. A letter to a lawyer from
