To the Ends of the Earth (Stripped 5) - Page 21

“I’m afraid to breathe,” I admit. And unlike the plane, where flight safety had made it somewhat babyproof, there’s plenty that’s breakable here.

“Luca called and let me know that you were coming,” she says. “I got a room ready for you upstairs. And my friend Honor’s nanny is coming over tomorrow to help get the rest of the house prepared. She’ll be staying with us for a couple weeks to help me out.”

My heart clenches, thinking of leaving Delilah. It’s been hard enough leaving her with a babysitter when she’s asleep so I could work. This will be days. “Are you sure this is okay?”

“Of course,” she says with a wink. “It’s an honor having the blessed one in our house.”

I make a face. “Not you, too.”

“Hey, I think it’s cool that the savior’s a girl. It was time for a change.”

Pulling out a plastic toy that plays light and sounds, I distract Delilah from our conversation. Delilah examines the familiar toy with an unimpressed sound. Then she half scoots, half crawls over to a potted plant, grasping at the wide green leaves overhead.

“I don’t want her hearing about any of that.”

Candy’s expression softens. “I know it was messed up, but it’s part of her history. It’s definitely part of your history.”

“I wish,” I mutter. “That history has a way of following me around.”

“We’ll keep her safe, Beth.”

Cameras. Walls. Will it be enough? “I can’t lose her. I just…can’t.”

Tears prick my eyes. I put the heels of my hands to my face, trying to keep from crying. A soft touch on my shoulder shatters me. Comfort. Kindness. God.

I try to turn away, but Candy doesn’t let me. She pulls me close, and I cry against her body, her breasts cradling me, her arms encircling me. I cry for getting attacked outside the Last Stop, for giving birth in a low-rent women’s shelter. I cry for the little girl I once was, trembling and alone on a dirt floor.

“We’ll keep her safe,” Candy whispers fiercely. “I won’t let her out of my sight. And no one will know she’s here. All they’ll know is that you’re in Chicago.”

“Bait,” I whisper, my voice thick.

“Trust Luca. He cares about you more than you know.”

I pull away, retreating, hiding my face behind a fall of blonde hair. “You know what he wants from me.”

“What’s wrong with that?” she asks, her tone playful.

My nose scrunches. “You know what’s wrong with that.”

She smiles gently. “I know more than you think I do. I know that being with Luca won’t be anything like what happened in Harmony Hills. And I know that he went crazy when you disappeared. He cares about you.”

“It’s a game to him.”

“Maybe, but Ivan insisted that he forget about you. We have more important things to worry about, al

l that jazz. And you know what Luca said?”

We met when we were kids. Both stupid, fucked up—sorry. Both of us dumb kids who wanted to get out of the barrio. “What?”

“He told him to go fuck himself.”

I flinch and then smile. “That sounds like Luca.”

“Not before you. He was content to take orders as long as Ivan watched his back. They worked together for a long time without any problems. Then he meets you.”

“And he kidnapped me,” I murmur.

“He saved you.” She knows what it was like there more than anyone.

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