"How is that your fault? There's no way to keep an eye on every inch of the place. It's too big."
"You're right." Forbes gently pushed Sophie into her room. "There's only one solution."
"What's that?"
Forbes' eyes turned steely blue. "Catch the asshole."
"FINDING YOUR STEPMOTHER was a snap. Unlike most of the people you ask me to locate, she wasn't trying to hide."
"That's ex-stepmother." Forbes felt it important to emphasize the distinction. Leaning on Sophie's desk, he crossed his arms. "Kai. This is Sophie Lipton. Sophie, Kai Northam."
"Nice to meet you," Sophie said.
"Back at you."
According to Forbes, Kai was a computer genius. They had met in the Army. A year after Forbes left for the private sector, he offered her a job. If the money and benefits hadn't been enough of an incentive, Kai had just come off a mission that had gone horribly wrong. She blamed her commanding officer. The upper brass wasn't interested in her opinion. So she walked away without a backward glance.
Kai's features were delicate. Exotic. Drop dead gorgeous was the way anybody with eyes would have described her. Dark hair streaked with purple highlights and lipstick to match, it was obvious that she was a woman who walked her own path and to hell with what anybody thought.
"Lipton." Kai glanced at one of the multiple screens that littered her desk. "That would make you the daughter. Sorry. Is there another, less offensive term, you'd prefer?"
"Smartass." Forbes' lips twitched.
"I own the relationship," Sophie said. "Though I try to think about it as little as possible."
"From what I was able to dig up, I can't say I blame you."
"Kai!" Jesus. The woman had absolutely no filter.
"It's okay," Sophie assured him. She looked at Kai. "I have fifteen years' worth of memories I'd rather forget. Spare me the updated version of Joy's life. Or at least as few of the gory details as possible."
"Sordid is a better term. Though there was an incident where a woman tried to commit suicide. Joy—and her affair with the husband—was right in the middle of that mess."
If Kai had been in front of him instead of three thousand miles away, Forbes would have kicked her in the butt. "What part of spare Sophie the details did you not understand?"
"Sorry."
Sophie looked sad. Though Forbes knew she wouldn't fall apart, the less she had to deal with Joy's shit, the better."
"Start with telling us Joy's location."
"Las Vegas. She's working as a dealer in one of the less glamorous casinos. Should I leave out that she's screwing the owner? Too much information?"
"Yes."
Sophie laughed, taking his hand. "I appreciate that you want to shield me. But I suddenly realized that it doesn't matter. Nothing will shock or surprise me. Besides, I have you. She has a seedy casino owner. I win."
"Ah," Kai batted her thick eyelashes. "That's sweet."
"Shut up, Kai."
"Shutting up, boss," Kai snickered. "I'll shoot you a copy of my report. This is only preliminary. What I could find with a general sweep. Give me a few more days for the real dirt. I'll include the stuff on Daphne Parks. Spoiler alert? Boring. The chick makes Wonder Bread look interesting."
"Do you want to read this?" As soon as Kai signed off, Forbes downloaded the files she had sent.
"I might as well." Sophie appreciated his offer. And the concern she saw in his eyes. To reassure them both, she walked into his arms. "I love a good horror story before bedtime.
SOPHIE WAS FIFTEEN again. It didn't matter that, subconsciously, she knew it was a dream. Or that she knew why her mind had taken her back to this place and time. Too much Joy. Reading about the last twelve years of her mother's crazy life stirred up memories she rarely thought about anymore.
It was the night Joy ran off for good. Sophie wasn't sure why she knew that. Except that dreams didn't have to make sense. She felt a hand on her shoulder, shaking her awake.
"Get up. We're leaving."
"What?" Sophie sat up, frowning. "Is the house on fire?"
"Your ass will be on fire if you don't get it out of that bed. Now. Get dressed. Take whatever you can fit into one suitcase. Leave the rest."
Groggy, two things struck Sophie as odd. That she actually had enough clothes to fill more than one suitcase. And that Joy didn't look her usual pulled-together self.
Disheveled, her hair stuck out in odd directions from a hastily fashioned French twist. She wore makeup, but the layers of perfection were missing. A bit of mascara. Too much blush. And lipstick that looked as though it had been applied with a less-than-steady hand. The buttons of her blouse were in the wrong holes, the ends tucked in willy-nilly.
Strangest of all. Joy had on flats instead of her ubiquitous four-inch heels.
"Is the world coming to an end?"
"Why is everything a question with you these days?" With a put-upon sigh, Joy didn't wait for Sophie and began packing. "You were always a pain in my ass, but at least you kept your mouth shut ninety percent of the time. I blame Newt. He's the one who encouraged your goddamned independent streak." Joy pushed back a stray piece of hair. "Jesus Christ, Sophie. Move. Your. Ass."
"No."
Sophie didn't know who was more surprised. Joy. Or her.
"I don't have time for this. Newt is passed out—as usual. That stupid housekeeper is gone for the night. I want to be gone before any of that changes."
"Then go. With my blessing. But I'm staying."
Joy turned, hands on her hips, her mouth compressed into an unflattering thin line.
"What do you think will happen when Newt discovers I'm gone? You don't mean anything to him. He'll throw you out on your ear and then where will you go?"
This was the moment Sophie had always wished for. Her true moment of independence. It felt right. Exciting. Scary as hell. But she would never back down. Inside, she trembled. Outside, she met Joy's gaze, her voice steady and cool.
"It doesn't matter what happens. Or where I go. As long as it isn't with you."
For the second time in Sophie's life, Joy hit her. Hard and true. A ringing slap across her face. She knew it was coming—probably could have avoided it. Instead, she suffered it gladly, the pain bolstering her resolve.
"You want to stay? Fine. Ungrateful bitch," Joy sneered. The spittle in the corner of her mouth gave her the look of a rabid dog foaming at the mouth. "I should have left you in that last shithole hotel. Or the one before that."
"Why didn't you?" If this was the last time she saw her mother—please, let it be the last time—Sophie wanted one question answered.
For a second, it appeared that Joy would give Sophie the usual silent shrug. Then the expression on her face changed. Her lips curved upward into an anticipatory smile.
"I suppose it doesn't matter now. In fact, I want to tell you. You should know how little you were wanted. By me. Or your father and his family. Sure you want to hear this?"
Sophie tensed at the mention of her father. Was this going to be another of Joy's lies? Or for once would she tell the truth? Either way, Sophie had to know.
"Go ahead."
"Your father wanted to marry me. To do the right thing. His family wanted me to have an abortion. Normally, I wouldn't have objected. It certainly wouldn't have been the first time. Does that shock you?"
"No." Sophie wasn't the least bit surprised. She knew of at least one other time Joy had gotten rid of an unwanted pregnancy. The fact that she had carried Sophie to term? That was the surprise.
Joy looked disappointed by Sophie's response, but she continued.
"The family had money. Not a lot, but more than I'd ever seen. Your father was the oldest son—and the favorite. It gave him some leverage. So they caved. The wedding was planned. Then the idiot got himself killed in a boating accident. A stag party gone wrong. I was almost ready to pop you out, so getting rid of you wasn't an option."
<
br /> If Joy could have found a doctor willing to take care of the problem, Sophie had no doubt she wouldn't be here.
"After you were born, I left."
"You should have stayed gone."
"That was my plan." Joy crossed her arms, her hip cocked in Sophie's direction. "However, a little over three years later, your father's younger brother tracked me down. He had married, and his dutiful little wife had given him a son. An heir. He didn't want you around to muddy his inheritance."
"Why not put me up for adoption?"
"And have you look them up when you turned eighteen? No, he wanted you out of the way. I agreed. For a monthly fee, I made sure you never found out who your father was. In retrospect, I should have held out for more. But I was young. Any amount of money seemed like a fortune back then."
Sophie's one hope that somewhere people cared if she were alive or dead was dashed. It hurt. But she was hardly devastated. That was what living with Joy for fifteen years had done. Her skin was just tough enough to survive almost anything.
"Money. I should have known."
"Don't you dare scoff. That money kept a roof over your head and food in your belly."
"I was always hungry!" Sophie raised her voice for the first time. "Always."
"Thin is in," Joy said blithely with a dismissive wave of her hand. "You should thank me. My family ran toward fat. I ran in the other direction."
Sophie didn't join in when Joy laughed at her own joke.
"God, how did I raise such a humorless stick in the mud?" Getting no response, Joy shook her head. "I saved your life, little girl. Not once have you shown me an ounce of gratitude."
Classic Joy. Somehow it seemed fitting that their last conversation should end with her mother's ego exerting its presence. Sophie was done. She had her answer—nasty as it was. Time to end this life-long farcical tragedy. Once and for all.
"Isn't your ride waiting?"
"No tears? No begging me to stay?"
Sophie shook her head.
"That's cold, Sophie." Joy gave her one last glance. "You know what? For the first time in your life, I'm proud of you."
Sophie? Sophie!
With a gasp, Sophie's eyes flew open. Forbes leaned over her, a concerned look on his face. She raised a hand finding warm, solid flesh. Not a dream.
"I'm not fifteen," she said, still a little disoriented.
"Thank God. That would make me a sick pervert. Here." Lifting Sophie, Forbes handed her a glass. "Take a drink."
Grateful, Sophie downed the entire contents. "Where did that come from?"
"I was in the bathroom getting some water when you began tossing and turning. Then you cried out. I brought the glass without thinking."
"I'm glad you did." She set the glass on the bedside table, the air slowly leaving her lungs.
"Bad dream?"
"The worst kind of nightmare. Joy was the star."
Forbes took her into his arms, smoothing back Sophie's tangled hair. "Want to tell me about it?"
Sophie nodded. It was one more piece of the puzzle. The only part she had yet to share with Forbes. She had no real reason to hold back except maybe she didn't want to throw out another example of how screwed her family was. Every single member.
"Why go to all the trouble of tracking Joy down?" Angry, Forbes shook his head. "If all he cared about was keeping you from staking a claim to the family money, your uncle could have paid a family to raise you with the same conditions."
Over the years, Sophie had spent long hours considering a hundred different scenarios that would have put her childhood in the hands of anybody except Joy. "I thought of that. Seems like a logical solution. Then I realized something. From day one, none of it was logical. My mother. My father's family. They seem to go with the first idea that pops into their head, the hell with it making sense."
Forbes opened and closed his mouth, searching for something to say. Finally, he threw up his hands.
"It's unbelievable."
Sophie had to agree. "Apparently, I come from a long line of self-involved idiots."
"Two traits you didn't inherit," Forbes said emphatically.
"Maybe I was switched at birth." Another notion that had crept through her head late one night. "That's a different can of worms I'd just as soon keep the lid on. With my luck, who knows what kind of sociopaths I might find."
"So, Joy has you and a steady income. What the hell did she do with the money?" Forbes scoffed. "Stupid question. When you arrived here, your clothes were a little better than rags. While Joy looked like she stepped out of an expensive bordello. Smelled like it, too."
"How much experience do you have with bordellos? Expensive or otherwise?"
"Little to none. Don't change the subject."
"You paid for sex?" Sophie found the idea surprising. And fascinating. "That is a much more interesting topic than my messed-up childhood."
"Maybe from your perspective."
"But—"
"Later," Forbes promised. "If you're still interested."
"Oh, I'll be interested all right." Sophie could wait. Forbes wanted to hear the rest. And she needed to tell him. "Joy always put herself first. I'll give her props for making an effort to drag me around all those years."
"That woman doesn't deserve any credit, Sophie. You raised yourself."
She hadn't thought of it that way. "I had a strong survival instinct. Quiet and unobtrusive. Nobody can bother you if they don't realize you exist."
Forbes gave Sophie a puzzled look. "That is hard for me to imagine. You were kind of quiet when we first met, but that didn't last long. Bossy with an attitude. That's the Sophie I remember."
"I never had a place where I belonged. I never had a place—period. The second I saw this, I could finally breathe freely for the first time in my life. I wasn't free to be myself. Rather, I discovered who I was." Sophie relaxed against Forbes. "I always thought it was Newt who gave me a home. But it was you. Your acceptance. Your friendship. Knowing I belonged gave me the strength to stand up to Joy."
"I left knowing you would be here when I returned. The idea that there was even the slightest chance of you leaving… "
Sophie felt a shudder run through Forbes. She tightened her arms, burrowing closer.
"But I didn't. I never will."
"I believe you." Forbes took Sophie's hand, placing it over his heart. The beat was fast and true. "What does that feel like?"
Replacing her hand with her cheek, Sophie whispered one word. "Home."
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
"A NIGHT AWAY from here is exactly what we need."
Sophie took a sleeveless dress from her closet, amused when she realized the price tag was still attached. Thinking back, she tried to remember when she purchased the knee-length, floral-print summer dress. A year ago? Maybe two? Laughing, she gave up.
It wasn't that Sophie had a problem with showing off her legs. They were long and shapely. And a certain tall, muscular blonde seemed to find them irresistible. She liked dressing up. On occasion. When she had the time and wasn't too tired to do more than eat dinner and fall into bed.
Tonight was one of those times. Sophie was in the mood for a crowded bar filled with noise, alcohol, and plenty of dancing. Now all she needed to do was get Forbes into the party mood.
"You've been on the go non-stop since dawn. Wouldn't you rather cuddle up on the sofa with an old movie and a ton of popcorn?"
"Most nights? Absolutely. Not tonight. Come on."
Sophie tossed the dress onto her bed. Wearing nothing but two pieces of skimpy lace underwear—the color of sunflowers—she swayed her hips to a silent beat. Crooking her finger, she invited him to join her.
"This isn't the way to make me want to leave the house." Moving from where he sat on the edge of the bed, Forbes placed a hand on each of her hips. "Or the bedroom."
"You're so tall," Sophie sighed, batting her lashes. "Strong and handsome.
Can't blame a girl for wanting to show off her arm candy."
Forbes' lips twitched. "Is that what I am? A pretty toy?" he asked, getting into the rhythm of her impromptu dance. He wasn't bad. Not bad at all.
"I want you for your brain." Sophie crossed her heart, her fingers lingering on the edge of the lacy bra. "Your ass isn't bad either."
"Funny."
When Forbes tried to pull her close, Sophie danced away. "Sorry. I'm saving my moves for the dance floor. Do me a favor? Go get prettied up. Wear that brushed cotton shirt. The one that matches your eyes."
Shaking his head, Forbes headed out of her room and down the hall. "You know I'll retaliate later when we're alone."
"Is that a threat?"
"Sweetheart, that is a set-in-stone, take it to the bank, promise."
A tingle of anticipation ran down Sophie's spine. Forbes had a wonderful imagination. Whatever he thought up as punishment was bound to be as fun as it was exciting.
Humming, she finished dressing, slipping the dress over her head and a pair of sandals on her feet. Sophie wiggled her toes. After her shower, she had changed the color of her nails. Pink Passion. It matched perfectly the spray of flowers that bordered the flirty hem of her dress.
The only jewelry she bothered with were a pair of stud earrings—a gift from Forbes. Pretty and practical, the topaz stones hid a tiny tracking device.
"Don't argue," Forbes had told her when he opened the small box. "Phones can be iffy—especially when you're rounding up cattle or riding fence. Even if one accidentally falls out, the other will tell me where you are."
"Will they record what I do in the privacy of my own bathroom?" she had asked, slipping studs into her ears.
"No," Forbes laughed. "They won't record anything. Tracking only."
"Then why would I argue?"
That had been a week ago. Sophie wore the earrings all the time, except in the shower. In a velvet case in the top drawer of her dresser sat a matching necklace and bracelet. Glamorous electronics for every occasion. But for tonight, she wanted to keep it simple.
Sophie picked up her purse, checked its contents, and headed out. She stopped short when she found Forbes waiting at the top of the stairs.
With One More Look At You Page 28
