Page 33 of Sinner's Ransom: Taken
“Tell me about your life, Monty.”
Stone’s voice surprised him. He’d almost forgotten Stone was there for a few minutes. He glanced at him.
“Why?”
“Because I want to know.” Stone leaned his elbows on his knees, his stare so deep it almost felt like he was seeing into Montgomery’s soul.
Montgomery swallowed and fell back against the bath’s edge. Some of the water sloshed out of the sides with the movement. “What do you want to know?”
Stone stood. It only took him one step to reach the bathtub. He kneeled beside it and grabbed the bottle of shampoo. “Wet your hair.”
Montgomery forced back a frown and dipped his head in the water. When he came back up, Stone had a glob of shampoo in his palm, and he ran his hands through Montgomery’s hair, lathering it up in a slow massage of his scalp.
“How did you grow up?”
Montgomery’s eyes slipped closed, and he sighed at the feel of the fingers working his head. He’d forgotten what his hair being washed felt like. “Richard was barely there if that’s what you wanted to know.”
“And your mother?” He ran his hand over Montgomery’s head, smoothing down his tufts of hair and spreading the shampoo around it.
“Which one?” Montgomery opened his eyes to look at Stone. “My biological mother was my father’s mistress. Her name’s Abigail, but if you ask her or Richard, I’m not her son. My other mother, Richard’s ex-wife, left when I was five. She had an agreement with him—give him a child and she could leave the loveless marriage with a beautiful amount of money.”
“But she wasn’t your mother.”
“No, but according to the public she was. They thought she gave birth to me. Denise threatened Richard that she’d take him to court over the agreement. If it’s taken to court, the truth about Abigail would come out and ruin his reputation, so he let her walk away with her money. Never saw her again after that.” Montgomery shrugged. “I guess you could say I never really had a mother, either.”
“And Abigail is still around?”
He snorted. “Yep. Maybe you should have kidnapped her. Richard would have paid a lot for her, she’s his favorite mistress.”
“He has more than one?” Stone paused in his massaging and frowned.
Montgomery laughed. “Yep, way more than one. I think the last time I checked, he had about nine, but they aren’t really mistresses anymore because he doesn’t have a wife.”
“Let’s wash it out.” Stone reached over Montgomery and grabbed a detachable showerhead. He turned the nozzles and water sprayed from it. “Close your eyes.”
Montgomery did as he was told and let Stone run his hands through his hair, washing out the shampoo until it was all gone. Then he turned it off again and replaced the showerhead.
“Better?”
“Yeah.” Montgomery frowned at Stone. “Why are you being nice?”
“Aren’t I always nice?” Stone’s lips twisted into an amused grin.
“No.” Montgomery grinned and laid his arms along the edge of the bath. He leaned closer until their lips were inches apart. “But I like it when you’re not nice too.”
“Yeah?” Stone touched his cheek, trailing his thumb over his jaw. “You’re trouble, Monty.”
He rose so quickly that Montgomery didn’t know he’d moved until he was at the door.
“Finish up. There’s clothes for you on the toilet. Get dressed and meet me down in the kitchen.” He opened the door and paused at the threshold. “And don’t think about escaping. You know Ardan? He’s Killough’s assassin. If you make a wrong move, he’ll break your neck.”
With that, he left through the door, shutting it behind himself.
Montgomery swallowed and glanced around the room. It was quiet now, but he suddenly felt he was being watched. The water quickly turned cold. He rose, drying himself off. The clothes Stone left him looked like they belonged to Stone. There was a pair of jeans with holes at the knees and a simple gray shirt. Certainly not the type of thing Montgomery would wear. The underwear was a pair of bright blue briefs that looked new.
After he’d slipped them on, he twisted the knob of the door and peeked out. The house seemed quiet, and he moved into the hallway. He glanced around, a prickling sensation running along his spine. No one was watching him. It was his imagination. It had to be.
Taking a deep breath, Montgomery squared his shoulders and strode down the stairs toward the kitchen. Stone stood near the stove, his back to the door and his attention on a frying pan in front of him.
