Shadow Warrior (Shadow Riders 4)

She was shaking, remembering those days, going without food, being locked in small, confined spaces. She wasn’t claustrophobic, and neither was Haydon, but it wasn’t pleasant with no bathroom. Haydon made a tiny doorway at the floor on one side and they snuck each other food and water when they could.

Vittorio brought her knuckles to his mouth, pressing a kiss there, all the while his eyes on hers, holding her captive so she felt like she was falling into him. Instantly, she was distracted. Her stomach did a slow roll and a million butterflies took wing. She should have jerked her hand away, no one had ever done such a thing to her before. She couldn’t have moved even if she wanted to, not when he was once again pressing her palm over his heart with his thumb rubbing caresses in a soothing, hypnotizing way, back and forth across the back of her hand. He had a way of compelling her to want to let him do anything to make him happy—and she liked him holding her hand. It made her feel as if they really did belong together and he would keep her safe from any harm.

“Keep going, gattina.”

“One day Owen came home from work pretty drunk, and got into a terrible fight with his wife. I heard Becca screaming, and knew he’d hit her, and when I said I was going to check on her, Haydon wouldn’t let me. We both heard Owen coming down the hall. Haydon opened the window for me, but he got us before we escaped. He beat Haydon so bad. I tried to stop him by hitting him with a chair. It was the only thing I could think to do. He dropped Haydon and started on me.”

“This man deserves a hell all his own,” Vittorio said in that same low tone that felt calm and peaceful. “I’m sorry you had to experience that kind of evil, Grace.”

Something in Vittorio’s eyes told her there was a lot more going on below the surface that she couldn’t see, but he continued to give off that soothing energy she had come to associate with him.

“Owen was a bad man, but not evil. I’ve seen true evil. That’s Haydon. Two weeks later, our foster father came home drunk again and Becca locked him out of the house because when he was drunk, he smacked her around. He’d been getting drunk more and more since Dwayne died. He went out to the garage to sleep in his car. They found him the next morning under the car. He was still alive, but the car had fallen on him, crushing his leg and groin. He’d lain there most of the night suffering.”

“Not an accident?”

She shook her head. “The investigators said someone had put something in his drink at home that night just before he went out to the garage. They found a glass from the kitchen tipped over and there were remnants of a sleeping aid mixed with whiskey in it. Becca took sleeping pills and they thought she’d done it, but when they were talking, I looked at Haydon’s face.” Dread crept down her spine. She would never forget that look as long as she lived. “He did it, but there was no way to prove it. It would have been easy for him to sneak Becca’s pills and get Owen a drink. The car was dropped hard to do the most damage.”

“It’s difficult to have much sympathy for Owen when he was beating two children who were in his care.”

“I might not have had sympathy if he’d died outright, but he was made to suffer for hours. I’m not certain that can be called justice. Haydon didn’t kill him outright, he wanted Owen to suffer. He chose a way to make it happen and he executed his plan. I had no proof, and who would I ever say anything to? Owen beat us all the time. Haydon defended me. I was scared of all of them and didn’t know what to do.”

Vittorio nodded. He laid her hand, palm down, on his thigh. That felt . . . intimate. The morphine had already kicked in and she could feel herself drifting. She didn’t understand, when she’d been so leery with every other single person in the world, why she felt so connected to Vittorio. He was leagues out of her world.

“Becca told the social worker she couldn’t take care of us any longer. She didn’t suspect Haydon at first, but he sat around staring at her, and once when she lifted her hand to him, he said he hoped nothing happened to her the way it had her son and husband. She began watching us. I think she was afraid at that point, and she wanted to get rid of us. Before they took us out of the home, they finished conducting the investigation and she was arrested and charged with abuse. She was sentenced to two years with time served; unfortunately for me, another very kind foster mother who had been told we were close took us both in.”