New York to Dallas (In Death 33)

“Who’s doing all the work, taking all the risks? Not him. Who’s strapped to a hospital gurney jonesing for a hit? Not him. He won’t even let you stay with him, and if he touches you, it’s just another way to use you. He likes little girl

s. You know about that, don’t you? About men who like little girls.”

“Get the hell away from me.”

“What made you this way?” Desperation scraped at her. God, how she wanted that single answer. “Does it go back even further? Your mother, your father? Is all the blood just poisoned?”

“You’re crazy.” Despite the pain, Sylvia pushed up, strained against the restraints. “He’s going to make you pay, you and that Irish bastard you married. Pay and pay and pay.”

She panted, rearing up, bucking, face contorted. Withdrawal, Eve concluded. Withdrawal, fear, pain, fury.

“How? How will he make me pay?”

“You won’t get to him. But he’ll get to you. Roarke will pay a lot to get you back, but he won’t get you back whole. And I’ll watch while Isaac makes you scream, while he makes you beg.”

“Is that how you get off? Watching? Do you like to watch while men rape children? While they hurt the innocent?”

“Nobody’s innocent! Some are just luckier than others. Get me drugs or I’ll kill you myself.”

“Melinda Jones and Darlie Morgansten. Tell me where they are. It’s your only chance.”

“They’re where you’re going to be. You won’t be so lucky this time. You’ll beg him to kill you. The asshole you married will bleed money every time Isaac cuts you. And we’ll swim in a river of it.”

“If he’s so good, he doesn’t need Melinda and Darlie to get me. Tell me where they are, unless you don’t think he’s man enough to take me on again.”

“I hope they’re dead. Martyr bitch and whiny brat. I hope he lets me kill you when he’s finished.”

Hated me then, hates me now, Eve thought, tired of it, unspeakably tired of it. Had there ever been anything but hate? Even for a moment?

“You’re the one who’d be dead if he had his way. It’s what he does, what he’s always done. What makes you think you’re any different than the others? Or is it you? Are your others no different?”

Risky, Eve calculated. Last ditch. “What pulls you toward men like him? What’s the draw? He’s not your first. You can change your name, your looks, but it’s all the same. Richard Troy, he was the same. Stella.”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed, then cut away. “Fuck off.”

“You remember him. Long time ago, but you remember. It didn’t end well, did it? It never does. Who screwed who over that time?”

“You think I’m stupid? I get my share and I walk when I’m ready to walk. You got Rich to say any different, he’s a liar, too. I took what was mine and walked.”

“Left something behind, didn’t you?”

Her lips twisted into an ugly smile. “Nothing I wanted. Rich is nothing but a fuckup with big dreams. Isaac knows how to get things done, and how to treat me right. Nothing you can do’ll make me roll over on him.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Love, she thought, even perverted love could be unassailable. “We’ll get him without you. We’ll get Melinda and Darlie back to their families without you. And we’ll do you the favor of keeping you alive so you can spend the rest of the life we saved for you in a concrete cage.”

“He’ll get me out.”

“He won’t give you another thought.” But I will, Eve admitted to herself. I’ll think about you for a very long time. “You’ve got until the doctors put you back together to change your mind.”

She walked to the door, stopped, turned around. “You had a kid once.” The medical exam would show that, and the data would be on her chart. “What happened to it?”

“How the fuck should I know?”

Cold inside, colder and steadier than she’d have believed possible, Eve nodded. “That’s what I figured. You’re just what you seem to be, Stella,” she said, using the name she remembered from glimmers of her childhood. “Exactly what you seem.”

She walked out.

“Anything.” Bree grabbed at Eve’s arm. “Did you get anything?”