Page 51 of Love Me Darkly
What had Mateo discovered about her? What did he know? He had warned her, hadn’t he? He had straight-up told her that he was investigating her background and fully expected to uncover the truth. But some information would have been impossible to find, meaning her position might not be as precarious as she imagined. She couldn’t determine that until she knew what was in this file. She had just taken hold of the rest of the papers to draw them free when a keycard whispered through the lock and the door swung open. Melody dropped the envelope, and the papers slid to the floor, scattering. She shot to her feet, hands clenched tight in front of her as Mateo strode in, carrying a shopping bag and car keys in one hand, and a Tupperware container in the other.
At the sight of her, he threw everything down on the nearest surface and rushed forward, taking hold of her arms. He was on her so fast, Melody caught her breath at the clamp of his fingers on her biceps, the sharp anxiety that sparked in his eyes.
“What happened?” he demanded, searching her face for answers. “What’s wrong?”
She mutely shook her head at first, overwhelmed by his nearness, his scent. That cologne was a whole different experience once it had hit his skin. There was a warmness to it now, as if he had activated its hidden notes. Her head spun from the power of it.
“Nothing,” she managed. “Nothing’s wrong, I just … I wanted to see you.”
Mateo’s hold on her eased but he didn’t let go. His expression softened, though he was still watching her as if searching for something. But if the scattered papers on the floor were any indication, he’d already found the answers.
Finally, he let her go and crouched to begin picking up the papers. Melody couldn’t steady herself enough to try to read what was on any of them. There were pictures—a high school yearbook photo, some mugshots, a driver’s license image. He gathered everything into a neat stack and slipped it back into the envelope. He didn’t seem the least bit bothered that she’d been snooping.
“Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”
Melody shrugged and eased back onto the bed. The room seemed so much smaller with him in it. He topped her by a good four inches, and his shoulders were wide and strong. His very presence radiated through the space, choking the air from the room.
“Not long,” she assured him. “Still, I didn’t expect you to be here. You’re obviously a busy man.”
Mateo laid the envelope aside and sank into the chair in front of his desk. He watched her, hands folded between his spread legs.
“I would think you’d be getting ready to head to Solstice for the night.”
Melody wrinkled her nose. “It’s my night off, thank God.”
He nodded but said nothing else. His gaze dropped to his feet, and he seemed to think over what he might say next. Melody wanted to broach the subject of the envelope and its contents, but couldn’t force her mouth to form words. What the hell was she supposed to say to him?
Sorry I lied to you about who I am, but if you had any idea who and what I really am you’d never want to come within a mile of me again.
That particular outcome scared her more than any other. More than being exposed and sent back to jail. More than being killed for opening her mouth to a federal agent. No man had ever looked at her the way Mateo had. None of them had taken the time to see the things she kept hidden, or access anything beyond her body. Upon realizing that Mateo was attracted to her—however hopelessly—she had longed to keep the truth to herself, to allow the reality of who she was to show through what she displayed on the outside. She hadn’t just wanted him to want her; Melody had wanted him to know her.
Now he did, but not in the way Melody would have chosen.
“I want to tell you a story,” he said suddenly, keeping his eyes lowered. “I want you to listen, and when I’m finished, you can say whatever you want to me. Okay?”
Melody nodded and then, realizing he wasn’t looking at her, replied, “Okay.”
He took a deep breath. “Once upon a time, there was a girl from a little town in Texas named Melody Frank.”
Melody held her breath, nervous vibrations rippling over her skin from head to toe. Her heart began to hammer in her chest, and the urge to jump up and run overwhelmed her. But she remained where she sat. She had to know what he knew.
“According to her records, Melody was a very bright child. She especially excelled in English and art. In her junior yearbook, she was quoted as saying that she dreamed of attending school on a scholarship to study art and fashion design. Melody’s family didn’t have much, but she was counting on her good grades and other accomplishments to pave the way to a better life. A life where she could be free from the violence of her world. You see, Melody’s mother was a drug addict who had done multiple stints in jail and rehab. She was unemployed and her husband worked to support a family that included four children. Melody was the oldest.”
Her eyes began to water, and she blinked to hold back the tears. She couldn’t remember the last time she had cried, and it certainly hadn’t been over the details of her childhood. The girl Mateo described was dead and that death hadn’t been quick or painless. Typically, she could think over the specifics of her past with detachment. Those things had happened to someone else, not her.
But hearing Mateo say them out loud, knowing where it was leading, what this Melody’s end would be … it made her throat clench and her eyes burn. Mateo’s care in relating what he knew didn’t help matters. His voice was so gentle, low and cradling every word as if he weighed each syllable before it came out. He was being far softer with her than she felt she deserved.
“Melody ran away from home at sixteen,” he continued, raising his eyes to meet her gaze. “Her family reported she might be staying with a friend, but an investigation revealed she had only been there a few days before moving on. The attempts to find her stopped after that. Runaways were common in her town, and she was just one of a string of girls who had left home, thinking to make it on their own. Then, the arrests started. Minor things at first … curfew violations, petty theft, loitering. But then … the first charge for solicitation of prostitution. And then another, and another. On top of that, a charge of failure to appear before a judge. She spent years in and out of jail, a few months here, a year there. After her last stint in Harris County Jail, she disappeared completely … before Melody Johnson began living and working in New Orleans. And, that is the end as far as I know it. But there has to be more, because the story doesn’t say what happened to her after Harris County. How did she end up in New Orleans with a new identity? How did she start a new life away from the people who trafficked her from city to city for half her life? How did she get out?”
Melody sobbed and wiped at her face with the back of her hand. “There’s no getting out. Not for anyone. Not really.”
Of course, she realized that a person in his line of work would already know that. But there was more; so much more. He didn’t even know the half of it. Mateo was looking at her now, his gaze so full of compassion that she couldn’t stand it. She stood and looked away.
“I should go. It isn’t safe for me to be here.”
He blocked her path to the door, taking her face between his hands. The suddenness of his nearness made her weak in the knees. His brow was furrowed as he stared down into her eyes. He was so close she could make out the different shades of brown glittering in his irises.
“I have a feeling you’ve never been safe anywhere.”
