Page 16 of Hell to Pay

14

JUDE

I got up early eventhough I was still jet-lagged, just in case Lilah woke up and wanted breakfast. I made a cup of coffee and sat with my sketch pad, working on a new sketch of Lilah from the night in Greece before she’d disappeared. I didn’t need a picture. I could see her, sitting naked on the steps of the pool, her hair slicked back, water beading her tits and stomach.

I had a hundred images like it of Lilah in my mind, moments when she’d been so fucking beautiful, so fuckingunawareof her beauty, that the image had frozen in my mind like the imprint of a just-snapped photograph.

Some of the images had made it into my sketchpad. Others papered my mind, a collage so full of Lilah that it was hard to see anything else.

My mind wandered as I worked on her full lips, slightly parted, the sexy gap between her front teeth barely visible. We’d gotten back to the States late the night before, something that hadn’t stopped Rafe and Nolan from leaving the house at the crack. I’d been more than happy to stay at the house with Lilah. She’d been through a lot. She needed sleep and good food and as little stress as possible while we figured out our next move.

Hence Rafe’s and Nolan’s trip to the beach to give the hard drive to Gage. He’d demanded double his usual price to look at it even though we hadn’t told him where we’d gotten it, probably because he already knew we were into something shady, or maybe because he knew we were almost always into something shady.

It didn’t matter. The money was nothing. I was just relieved Rafe had finally dropped the act about wanting Lilah to leave. We’d been in this with her until the end the minute she’d banged on our door. Rafe just hadn’t wanted to admit it.

I liked the house early in the morning and late at night. It was almost warm enough to start opening the windows and the glass bifold doors that led onto the balcony off the kitchen. Then we could have meals outside, go climbing more, get into the river with our kayaks and take advantage of the rapids created by the snowmelt.

I hoped Lilah was still with us then, wondered if she’d like being out in the wilderness with us.

I shut the thought down as soon as I thought it. My attraction to Lilah was way more than just physical, but I didn’t dare believe there was any way to turn our complicated history into something Lilah could actually trust.

Plus, she deserved better. We weren’t equipped for stable, and stable was what Lilah needed — what she deserved — after everything she’d been through.

My phone buzzed from the island and I picked it up, surprised to see a picture of my mom from last Mother’s Day on the screen.

“Hey,” I said, picking it up. “Everything okay?”

She laughed. “Of course. Can’t I call my son?”

There was no nice way to say we weren’t the kind of mother and son who talked on the phone all the time. My relationship with my dad and Luke, my older brother, had made my relationship with my mom complicated too. I hated that she was in the middle, trying to make peace, but it had been that way as long as I could remember.

“Sure,” I said, because it was the easiest way to bypass the weight of our family history. “How are you?”

“I’m good. Prepping the garden for summer.”

Gardening was my mom’s passion. She spent hours outside in the spring and summer, choosing flowers from her cutting garden for the house and tending to the kitchen garden that hosted just about every berry and vegetable imaginable. Her dream was to move to the country where she could have tons of acreage and an orchard, but that was where my dad drew the line.

“How’s it coming?” I set my pencil down and leaned back in my chair.

“Everything on track. I added some huckleberries this year. We’ll see if I can keep the chipmunks out of them.”

I chuckled. “Keep me posted.”

“I will. And I was thinking this morning that it’s been a while since you’ve been home. Why don’t you come to dinner tonight?”

There it was: her real reason for calling.

“Will Luke be there?” Asking was a reflex. Dealing with my dad’s disapproval was hard enough. Being tag-teamed by him and Luke, the perfect robot son, wasn’t my idea of a good time.

“Of course,” she said. “He always comes to Sunday dinner.”

There was no guilt trip in the words. She knew why I didn’t come home very often.

“I don’t know.” I fumbled for an excuse. “We’ve been out of the country working on a new job. Just got home last night.”

Not a lie.

“That’s perfect. A home-cooked dinner will do you good. I got those steaks you like.”

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