Shiloh Walker: The Protected

Gus bit back his response and stayed where he was, ignoring whatever it was on the sand as he stared out over the water. He could never fully escape the past he had here. It would always find him, he thought. He couldn’t create a new life out of nothing.

Moments passed. He didn’t know how much time passed. He was alone on the beach. Moran had left, leaving behind nothing but a sealed envelope. Scowling, Gus knelt down and tore it open. The letter inside, the documents, all they did was make him scowl. A new birth certificate, a new passport . . . the promise of a new life. What . . . what was this?

A new life. Meaningless, now. Alex was gone. Vaughnne . . .

Mierda .

Even as he thought of the futile, fanciful impossibility of it, something brushed against his mind. It was faint at first. Then harder, and louder, like something was slamming against his skull—from the inside.

Vaughnne . . . her voice an echo, like it was coming to him through a tunnel. Or maybe over thousands of miles.

I’m getting ready to break this kid’s heart, you son of a bitch. Wherever you are, I hope you’re having fun.

Don’t suppose it ever occurred to you to try this with me together? This kid could use two people in his life who love him. We could have both given him a home . . . I would have been happy to have you in my life, Gus. But you’re too much a coward to try it.

He tensed, holding his breath as he waited for more.

“Vaughnne.” He closed his eyes and whispered her name again.

But she couldn’t hear him. That wasn’t her gift.

And he didn’t have any.

ALEX was a quiet shadow at her side as she led him into her apartment.

It wasn’t much.

The second bedroom was mostly used as an office, but she’d already figured that problem out. She could move her desk into her room. It would be cramped, but that wasn’t a problem. The bookshelves would go into the living room. Problem solved.

She flicked on the light and automatically checked the room, wishing she’d sense some dark, quiet shadow hiding in wait.

He’d changed his mind.

He’d realized he was wrong.

Something.

Anything.

But they were alone.

She knew it.

So did Alex.

“He’s not coming back.” It was the first time Alex had spoken in over three hours.

She locked the door and then looked over at him. His eyes, so like his uncle’s, met hers, and the pain there all but broke her heart all over again. She’d known this would happen, she thought absently. The very first time she’d seen that kid, she’d had a feeling he’d break her heart, and she’d been right.

“No, Alex,” she said softly. “I don’t think he is.”

He nodded, his eyes taking on a dull, lost look.

Unable to stop herself, she crossed to him and caught him in her arms.

Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his head on her shoulder as he started to cry. “I’m sorry, kid,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why did he leave?”

Closing her eyes, she wished she could figure out the right way to answer that. But there was no right answer when a boy’s world had just been shattered . . . again. “I think he believes he’s doing the right thing. He’s a smart guy, your uncle. But he’s not very bright sometimes, huh?”

A hard sob shook him. “He left me. He really left me.”

It was a pain that she understood. No, her parents hadn’t left her. They’d thrown her away like she was nothing more than trash. Worse . . . they’d thrown her out, in fear and hatred. Hugging him tighter, she said softly, “I know, Alex. I know. You’ll get through this, I swear. And I can promise you this, as long as God lets me, I will be here. I won’t leave you, I won’t throw you out. I’ll be here for you . . . I’ll love you and take care of you and I’ll fight for you and with you. I’m not your mom and I’m not Gus, but I’ll do my best for you, I swear.”

Whether it was the right thing to say or not, she didn’t know.

But it was all she had.

IT was a rare thing for her to wake up and smell food cooking.

Very rare. As in it never happened. Not even in the past two months since she’d starting sharing her home with somebody else. Sharing . . . as in making somebody else part of her life.

It was a weird adjustment to make; making somebody else part of her life.

But as weird as that was, she still couldn’t quite accept what her senses were telling her.

Breakfast. Made by somebody else. Did Alex know how to cook?

Turning her head, she eyed the clock with a scowl. It was seven. On a Saturday. Alex up early . . . and cooking ?

Scowling, she sat up and tried to figure out how she felt about a kid cooking breakfast in her kitchen. Granted, this was a kid who had more responsibility thrown at him than was really fair, and yeah, he kind of knew his way around a kitchen. Kind of, as in he knew how to make hot dogs and macaroni and cheese. But she’d thought that was it.

Still, they could discuss that after she had some bacon.

Her mouth was watering as she paused long enough to put on a bra and something other than the spaghetti tank she usually slept in. She’d gotten used to not being able to sleep in nothing, but all the little adjustments were strange.

She wasn’t even down the hallway when the door to the room she’d given Alex opened. He stood there and gave her a sleepy smile. “You’re making breakfast?” he said.

Her heart jumped into her throat even as adrenaline jumped up to high. She stared down the hall toward the stairwell. Go back into your room for a minute, Alex.

He blinked at her, frowning.

Then he cocked his head and peered down the steps.

Something flitted through his eyes, and before she could grab him, he was running downstairs.

She caught him halfway down. Did you not hear me? she demanded, putting enough volume into her mental voice that she saw him flinch. Wait in your room.

“But it’s Gus,” he told her. “I can feel it.”

The strength wanted to drain out of her legs.

Shaking her head, she pointed up the stairs and hoped he’d listen. Part of her wanted to believe him. Who else would be in her house cooking bacon?

But she’d taken a kid into her home and that meant she’d protect him. Even against bacon-making intruders who might or might not be his uncle.

Slowly, Alex pulled back and nodded, trudging back up the stairs. She eased her way down them, although considering how much noise they’d made just now, was there really any point in being quiet?

Her heart slammed hard against her ribs as she pressed her back against the wall, peering around the corner. There, just there, on the long skinny table behind the sofa, she spied a ball cap. It wasn’t hers. It wasn’t Alex’s. Seeing it made her heart ache even more.

She took a deep, slow breath and eased forward one more step.

“One thing I can manage well enough is breakfast.”

At the sound of his voice, she sagged back against the wall. Not certain she trusted her ears or her eyes, she stood there. Was she awake? Yeah. She was pretty certain she was.

“It won’t be warm, though, if you two don’t come in here soon.”

Lifting her head, she focused on the man standing in the doorway.

He wore a pale blue polo, the closest thing to dress wear that she’d ever seen him in. His eyes rested on her face, and the look in his gaze was cautious.

Vaughnne didn’t know whether she wanted to throw herself at him, or the nearest heavy object.

“If you’re going to break that kid’s heart again,” she said, focusing on the most important thing, “I’m going to hurt you in so many ways.”