Page 66 of Jake's Angel

So why did Gabe send me away? And why didn’t Liz and Caleb fight to adopt me?

I want to ask her, but I don’t know if she would tell me the truth, or if shecould.

Club business. What a crock of shit!

Picking up the last picture, I hand it to Liz. It’s a picture of Gabe and my mother. She’s in a short halter style white dress. Her hair was up in pin curls and there’s a white bandanna with a small lace piece attached at the back, and it barely touches her shoulders. Gabe is carrying her in his arms, wearing jeans and a T-shirt with his cut. The only difference in the outfit I saw him in yesterday and the one in the picture is the bow tie he’s wearing around his neck.

My mother is laughing, her head thrown back, her hand resting on his chest. He’s kissing her cheek, his hand gripping her wrist. It’s then I see the diamond ring she’s wearing on her left hand.

Liz must see my shock, because she puts the picture down on the dresser and places both hands on my cheeks, wiping my tears. I lift my face to see her blurry one.

“You didn’t know.” She’s not asking. I shake my head and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to rein in my emotions.

“Gabe told me yesterday, but I didn’t believe him. My grandmother, Eleanor, she told me he was a one-night stand. All I’ve ever heard was how my mother was a whore who got herself knocked up and when my father found out about the pregnancy, he left. He didn’t want me.”

Eleanor West’s words have been like a broken record playing in my head for so long, and whenever they stop playing, someone comes around more than happy to restart the needle.

“After seeing those girls at the clubhouse yesterday, I assumed she was one of them,” I admit. “I figured Gabe must’ve accidentally gotten her pregnant and then bailed when he found out.”

“Christ on a cracker! No.” She chuckles heartily. “Gabriel would have killed any man whothoughtabout touching Maggie. Your mother could handle her own, but if anyone ever treated her disrespectfully, or more specifically, like a whore … Let’s just say I’d be talking to both my husband and my son through a plate-glass window at the nearest prison.”

“What? Why both?”

Liz again ignores my question, pressing forward with her explanation.

“Everything your bitch of a grandmother told you about your mother was bullshit! He loved Maggie more than anything in this world. Maggie was Gabriel’s reason to breathe. When he lost her, and then you,” she sighs, her eyes rimmed red.

“He was so excited when he learned about the baby—you.” Her thumb caresses my cheek. “He wanted you, sweet girl. Gabe wanted you more than anything. He drove poor Maggie crazy with his over-protectiveness. The man threatened the guys if they smoked within a hundred yards of her. Told them he’d cut off their balls.”

“Seems to be an ongoing threat around here.”

“The point is, he was a mess. The day you were born, he was so scared to hold you. You cried a lot in the beginning, and hecouldn’t stand it.”

“Then why did he send me away? If he loved me so much and wanted a child so badly, why did he give me up so easily?”

“I can’t answer those questions, Bug. I didn’t understand at the time either, but I knew to trust my son and my husband. The decision wasn’t an easy one, but it was therightone at the time.”

Another round of shouting can be heard through the door, followed by the sound of stomping boots and broken glass.

Liz lets me go just as Sadie sits up, looking worse for wear.

“I need to go see what’s going on and convince my husband to make it stop or get it the fuck out of my house,” Liz shouts the last part loud enough for everyone in the house to hear. She opens the door and heads out. Sadie crashes back onto the bed, positioning her pillow back over her head, incoherently grumbling something.

She did drink a lot more than me.

Looking around the room, I start feeling uneasy. The need to run is like a live wire under my skin. I know I can’t go out where the men are, and they aren’t going to let me go anywhere without an escort.

They were just going to continue to lie to me. My mother was murdered, and they were just going to keep up their barrage of secrets and lies.

I don’t need this, and I certainly don’t need people who want to keep lying to me. I need to think. I need to get out of here and I need to think.

Pacing the floor, my thoughts reel again and my anger builds. Seeing the curtain move with the breeze out of the corner of my eye gives me an idea. If it’s open, the alarm should be deactivated, if there is one. I check the window, feeling around for a sensor just in case and, to my surprise, find nothing. For people who stress security and protection, they sure dropped the ball on this one.

I gently lift the window and push out the screen, laying it against the house nice and neat. I’ll only be a few minutes. Not long enough to panic everyone, but hopefully enough to clear my head.

Standing on the patio looking out, the house is surrounded by tall trees as far as I can see. I debate if I should attempt awalk in the woods, when my overactive imagination reminds me of several horror movies that all started with some stupid girl running into the woods alone.

Nope.

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