Page 24 of Javier

“You’re hurting me!”

“You came at me with afucking knife.”

“You scared me. I was trying to defend myself.”

“This ismyfucking home. You broke into it.”

“You said I could come. I was quiet. I didn’t want to alarm you. I left my shoes and purse in the kitchen.” Her chest heaved as she wrestled him like a wild animal. “Pops warned me to be cautious around you, said that you had a wild temper.” She snarled, flipped over, and faced him.

What did that mean?“What the fuck? STOP. I’ll let you go when you quit fighting me.”

She was strong, but no match for him. He kept her pinned to the floor until she stilled, then let go. “Why, Memphis? I locked up when you didn’t show. How did you get in? You could have called or texted first.”

Her eyes sparked with fury in the low light. “I thought you never lock your doors.”

“MostdaysI don’t. Nighttime, always. Answer my questions.” His long sigh conveyed frustration. In a softer tone, he said, “Please.”

“I’m sorry, Javier. I had a disturbing message followed by an unsettling phone call which had me not thinking so clearly. I couldn’t sleep. Not knowing what to do, I came here. I should have let you know I was coming.”

“You’re right. You should have.” He let her go, pushed to his feet, and went in search of the switchblade. “How did you get in?”

She scuttled into a seated position and rested against the wall behind her, watching him. “I picked the back lock.”

His voice rose with disbelief. “You picked it?” He shot the deadbolt but knew that any lock was pickable. “Where are your tools?” His hand closed around the switchblade handle. He didn’t have to see it to know the blade was forged by him and it was the first switchblade he had made.

“My purse. Pops taught me.” She countered proudly.

“Whatelsedid your father show you?”

“How to hot-wire. And tie an assload of knots.”

Of course. “Ransom shared his varied skillset with you.” He slid down the wall to a seated position mirroring her posture, sighed again, and raked his fingers through his hair. It was unbelievable that they were having this talk after one in the morning. After she had broken into his house. After he had disarmed her. “Pops said they were survival skills that would come in handy when I least expected.”

That was true enough. All of them, including Daphne, were well-versed in what Ransom had taught his daughter. Growing up and living in the Narrows of Torch River had been challenging at times.

“Why the switchblade? If I weren’t trained to disarm an attacker, you could have injured me or worse.” Javier kept an eye on his fingernail as he gently tapped the blade’s edge against it—from base to tip. It bit into his nail its entire length. As sharp as hell. Lethal, if it hit its mark. After thirty-some years, his stamp was easy to discern. His eyes flicked to hers after closing it. “Was that your intent?”

“No!” She said vehemently, shaking her head. “Never. Even though Torch River seems safe, it’s late. I needed to be prepared. I figured better safe than sorry. I usually carry my switchblade. It’s easy to conceal and comes in handy.”

“It makes sense, right up to until you weren’t prepared for me. Do you have anything else on you?”

“No. My gun’s at the inn. My rifle is at the ranch, of course. I take it riding with me as a precaution.”

His eyes traveled her body. He held up the knife. “I’ll hold on to this for a while.”

“It’s mine.”

“I understand, but you showing up with this and using it has me uncomfortable. I’ll give it back to you when you leave. It’s been well taken care of.”

“How would you know?”

“I made it. It was a gift to your father from me. Ransom’s first knife. My first switchblade. He was sixteen. The blade has my stamp on it.

“You made it?”

“I did. I made a number of knives for him; for all of us. They have my stamp.”

“I think he kept all of them and then bought others. He gave me this one when I turned sixteen. It’s my favorite.”

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