"You can't do this." Her conviction vibrated inside her chest, making her shake.
Her dad and Askook had bargained her as if she was a car that could be bought and sold. She could not be owned. Nobody had the right to treat her as a possession.
Paco planted his hands on the wall behind her and put his lips to her ear. "You can't tell me you don't feel what goes on between us."
A shiver traveled up her spine, and her knees weakened. She closed her eyes, too weak to keep them open and face the truth.
"People aren't supposed to take someone else," she whispered, unsure if she was talking about Paco or Askook. "It's supposed to be my choice."
"It stopped being my choice when I read your journal and fell in love with the woman you are, sweetheart." His body pressed against her, holding her prisoner. "You chose me when you let me in your bed. You chose me when you wrapped your body around mine. You chose me when you came undone while my cock was in your body, and you gave me...sweet Jesus, sweetheart, you gave me everything."
Somewhere between his warm breath caressing her ear and his confession, she'd stopped breathing. He'd read her journal?
Her journal?
As if he'd reached inside her chest and fisted her heart, she couldn't move. Every thought that had consumed her since leaving the reservation was contained on the pages. She'd described the horror of finding out her dad was in debt and blackmailed by the Native Indian Gaming Commission. Every emotional war inside of her as she battled her hatred was documented on the pages of a ninety-nine-cent journal. She'd poured her soul out, starting with the moment she'd heard the crimes tumble from the lips of her father. She'd angrily penned the taste of ugly bitterness as Askook pulled her by her hair and stuck his tongue down her throat in front of her father when the papers were signed, while her dad stood back and let it happen. She'd vomited onto the page about the vulnerability of knowing she wasn't loved more than the evilness of money.
If Paco had read it all, he knew she was no more than a bargaining piece in a sick game.
Hollowness echoed inside her. She'd cried thousands of wet tears over each page, blurring the ink as shame flowed from her. All the running she'd done, trying to mix into the general public. The guilt. The sadness. The heartbreak. Her fears. Her hatred. Her confusion. Her guilt. Her pain. Everything was documented in her journal.
And Paco had read every tender word.
She fisted her hands and pushed at his sides. With her journal, he could see inside of her. Not the pure nakedness of her skin, but her soul. Her being. Her heart.
She needed to leave. She needed to run. She needed to hide.
He weighed too much. She couldn't budge him.
She hit harder, striking out against the pain.
Anxiety grew like a flame in her chest.
Gasping, the much-needed oxygen meant to fuel her, she punched out with one fist, and then the other, faster and faster.
Agony and desolation rolled together, creating a storm inside her chest, strengthening her. She screamed her suffering through clenched teeth, blinded by mortification.
Nobody was supposed to witness her shame.
Nobody was supposed to see the hate dwelling in her heart.
Nobody was supposed to make her feel weak.
"Sweetheart." He wrapped his arms around her, pinning her arms to her side. "Are you listening to me?"
Inside her head, wails filled her ears. They were held in, not to be shared. He already knew too much about her. She wouldn't give him any more.
"Come on now."
Her feet left the floor. Shocked into silence, her burst of energy gave way to exhaustion. She was tired of living her life.
Every day fighting the natural tendency to love her father for the man she remembered as a child and hating herself for the man he'd become as if it was her fault he'd sold her to Askook. Waking up each morning, wondering if Askook would find her and force her to go with him to the casino. The guilt of knowing Askook had probably kidnapped Cami because of some warped way of getting back at her never left her mind.
"Sh." Paco forced her face into his neck. "God damnit, Josie. I don't know what to do."
Cradled on his lap, she wasn't going to open her eyes. To see his disgust looking back at her would kill her.
Why had he read her journal? Why couldn't he have left it alone? Left her alone.
There was no going back to how it was with him. He would always see her as the victim of her father's dealings. He would always see her as a Blackfoot woman.
Her heritage would be looked down on as if everyone on the reservation had lived like her, and it wasn't true. The majority of the Blackfoot people were honest, loving, strong, and loyal.
She'd brought shame to her people by letting her thoughts out.
There was no pride left inside of her.
"Sweetheart, talk to me," he whispered, kissing the top of her head.
She had nothing to say. He knew more than she'd ever want anyone to know.
Besides Paco, Askook—the asshole responsible for everything—was the only other person who knew the humiliation her father brought to her and had exposed her to a part of life she had no interest in.
Paco's hand trembled as he stroked her hair. "I'm not going to apologize for reading your journal. You were missing. I had to read the book, sweetheart. It's how I found out about your connection to the reservation."
"Along with knowing about the rumors circling Robert Shaw and the casino, I was able to get there fast enough to save you from a life that would've destroyed you. I promise that once I kill Shaw and get him and his men away from you, you'll be safe. You can have that life you deserve."
She lifted her head. It wasn't hopefulness but disconsolate
