Victoria turned back to look at the loch. “I visited with David, Abby’s husband, once when she wasn’t there. I think he suspected something, but he never said. I wanted to make sure he would be good to her. I had to see for myself that he was a good man. He was, Lawrence, he was a very good man. And he loved my Abby. I never went back. Mother would have had a fit if she’d found out there was contact. She...”
Her words faded. Lawrence didn’t need them. He’d had enough experience with Victoria’s parents to know they must have made her suffer daily for her childhood indiscretion. He could only imagine the mental abuse she’d endured over the years.
“Charles?” He wondered if the brother had known. If he’d ever done anything to help.
“Charles only cares about Charles. He does whatever he must to keep Mother out of his business.” She shook her head. “Charles has some interests Mother would disapprove of.”
Lawrence nodded. He’d heard rumours. The man’s tastes ran to the twisted. He definitely wouldn’t want a spotlight on them. Neither would he want the funds available to pursue his interests cut off when his mother found out.
“You’ve been alone such a long time.”
“It’s no more than I deserve.”
“No.” He shifted to look her in the eyes. “You’re wrong. You didn’t deserve any of this. It was done to you. Your choices weren’t choices at all. You were a child, and then you were an abused adult dealing with the only world you knew. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve any of it.”
“Abby?” Victoria’s voice cracked as the tears started again.
“We’ll deal with it together. You’re not alone anymore.” He kissed her hair and wrapped her in his arms.
Where she belonged.
38
“A penalty is a cowardly way to score.”
Pelé, greatest footballer ever
Flynn made a call to his cousin and told him what happened. Matt offered to keep Katy overnight, but Flynn knew Abby would want her baby. After everything he’d heard, Flynn couldn’t bear the thought of the terrorist being out of his sight. They should be together. Where they belonged. Matt promised to bring the kid home as soon as her play date with the famous Jonathan was over, which gave Flynn some time to care for Abby.
Adrenalin-fuelled emotions had worn her out. When she crashed, numb and bruised, he’d put her to bed and told her to sleep for a while. The whole situation was a mess. A nasty, ugly, screwed-up mess that left a foul taste in his mouth. One he just couldn’t get rid of.
Flynn was sitting on Abby’s front step, nursing a beer and wondering who to kill first—the list of prospects was pretty damn long—wh
en Mitch drove up. The American was wearing one of his usual power suits, although he looked more rumpled than pristine.
“It’s Sunday—what the hell kind of meetings do you have on a Sunday? Give your backside a day off and wear a pair of jeans.” Flynn grinned at the man. They’d become friends over the past few years, catching up when Flynn was in Invertary or Mitch was in London. He liked Mitch. For a lawyer—especially one in the entertainment business—he wasn’t half bad.
“I had a meeting with your agent, asshole.” Mitch threw a folder at Flynn as he came up the steps. “Where’s the beer?”
“Kitchen fridge.” Flynn opened the folder and sucked in a breath. It was the contract he’d signed for the TV show. He looked up to ask Mitch what this meant, but the man was already inside the house.
Flynn read, hope bubbling up inside him. When Mitch came back out, his jacket and tie were gone, his white shirt sleeves were rolled up and he was holding an ice-cold beer. He sat on the step beside Flynn.
“You broke the contract?” Flynn said.
“You are now agent-less, lawyer-less and you no longer have a camera crew up your ass.” Mitch clinked their beer bottles together. “You’re welcome.”
“How the hell did you manage this?” Flynn was in awe. Seriously. The guy deserved his complete adoration.
“I am just that good.” Mitch stretched his legs out in front of him. “I also put Lake on the case. He’s going to do some digging. You were being fleeced by your agent. I’m pretty sure the lawyer was in on it, but I don’t have any proof—yet.”
“I figured as much when they stopped answering my calls.” Flynn’s jaw clenched. “Guess I need a new lawyer.”
“Don’t look at me.” Mitch held up his hands. “I’m up to my ears dealing with Josh. Without me he would be broke and singing for food.”
Flynn laughed, because it was most likely true.
“Thanks,” he said.