Page 210 of Saving Her

He probably always knew.

I shouldn’t have expected anything less from the son of a sex trafficker.

I sit back on the bed and exhale a heavy breath. “What do you want to know, little man?”

He stares at me, his head still high. He takes his time, giving himself long moments to ponder whatever is going on in that brain of his before he asks, “Why did you hurt her?”

I guess I should be thankful that through all this—after the death of his father and being dragged from his home—his top priority is Penny.

“She was getting in trouble with Torian. I needed to get her out of his office before he snapped.”

“Cole wouldn’t hurt her.”

“You’re right; he wouldn’t,” I lie. “But he was angry, and sometimes when people are angry they say mean things they can’t take back. All I wanted to do was get her out of there. So I grabbed her arm to lead her from the room. And yes, I know I shouldn’t have touched her, but I thought I was doing the right thing.”

He frowns. “You grabbed her arm?”

“Yeah.”

The frown deepens. “Then Decker hit you?”

I nod, the movement throwing lighter fluid on the smoldering flames of my headache. “He doesn’t like me very much right now.”

“Because you grabbed her arm?”

“That, and other things. Mainly because he’s worried about Penny, and I’m the perfect outlet for his concern.”

He falls quiet again, his gaze fixed on me for long moments. “Why are we really here? In this house?”

It’s my turn to take a mental breather. Kids aren’t my thing. “Why do you think we’re here?” I act like a fucking shrink, buying myself time.

“I know it’s because something is wrong. Stella said she never stays at her uncle’s house unless bad things are happening.”

Great. Two snooping kids. Just what I need.

“That’s something you should ask Cole. I’ve given out my quota of information.”

“No. Please.” His annoyance vanishes, a pity party taking its place. Big blue eyes blink up at me, begging. “Is it about Robert?”

I fight not to flinch at his direct hit. Where the hell is this kid getting information from? He’s a miniature fucking spy master. “Why would you ask about him? What do you know?”

He doesn’t answer—just keeps blinking those puppy-dog eyes.

“Tobias? What the hell do you know?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. I just heard…”

“You seem to hear a lot.”

He straightens. “Baba taught me how to listen.”

“He taught you how to snoop,” I correct, and he nods. “Tell me what you heard.”

“It’s nothing, I swear. His name has been mentioned a few times. That’s all. I guessed he’s the reason we’re here… I’m right, aren’t I?”

I contemplate my options. This kid could be useful. He could also be a huge pain in the ass if he rats on me. “I don’t know.” The paper copy of the bank surveillance image burns a hole in my pocket. If anyone could confirm the man in the photo is Robert, it’s Toby, but I don’t want to get my brains blown out for involving a minor.

“Yeah, you do,” he snaps. “You know. You just don’t want to tell me.”

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