Page 100 of Pretty Vengeance

“Right.”

“Will you?”

“Depends.” He tilts his head, assessing me. “Some information is on a ‘need to know’ basis and right now, you’ve got no need. A girlfriend, though, in a serious relationship with a man does need to understand who he is.”

“Maybe I already know enough.” My voice is little more than a whisper, but it’s fierce. Our eyes lock. “My bio mom prioritized criminality over family. When she went to jail, it left me completely alone in the world. Now that I’m an adult, I wouldn’t want to be in a relationship with someone whose work could force me to go through that again.”

“My world is miles from what you lived before.”

“Is it?”

“When I have a wife and kids, things will be in place to protect them. They wouldn’t be alone and destitute if something happened to me. They’d be surrounded by the rest of my family. You’ve already seen what my people are like, right? Ash wanting to take you home for Thanksgiving? Do you imagine that girl would desert someone so important to me? And, for better or worse, she’s the tip of the iceberg, Sauce. I’m Irish Catholic. There’s a lot of family.”

“Could you change careers if you wanted to? Tomorrow? Next week? Could you walk away?”

He smiles ruefully and glances around. “We’ve got other things to figure out first, wouldn’t you say? Come on, let’s go to your dad’s place. I’ll be there to keep you safe and to back your play as you look around. I’ll even tell you what physical evidence we’re looking for. And once we settle whether I’m right or not about Robert Allendale, we can figure out what to do next.”

I slide my hand to the back of his neck, and he leans down at the beckoning touch.

“You have to promise me no matter what we learn, you won’t hurt him after I’ve brought you into the house. We will call the police, but you won’t touch him. Promise?”

He raises his head so we can look at each other. “If you bring me into the house, I won’t touch him while we’re there. I willnotlose control.” His words drip with grave sincerity.

I still don’t know if he’s telling the truth, but I want to trust him. I want it so much I’m willing to risk making a horrible mistake.

“Okay. But just so you know, if you break your word to me, Jamie, I won’t protect you and become an accomplice. I will tell the police everything I know.”

His eyes narrow, but he nods. “Grand. We know where we stand.”

* * *

JAMIE

On the rideto the house, I’m of two minds. On one hand, this has worked out better than if I’d had to break in. This way, Allendale invites me in and, as an overnight guest, I’ll have plenty of time to locate and access his electronics. Then, if the guy had help covering his tracks in Ireland or if he’s a part of any pedophile rings that traffic kids, I’ll be able to act on that information, too.

If it comes down to killing Allendale, I should hire someone to do that anyway. As much as I’d like to watch him die, I’ve got too many ties.

Glancing over at Cranberry Sauce twists my guts. She’s beautiful today in her dove gray sweater, charcoal skirt, and black tights. Makes me wish we could make a detour to a hotel where we could pretend for a few hours that the past few days never happened.

We can’t, though. Vengeance first.

When we arrive, the house isn’t as large as I expected. Maybe three-thousand square-feet. Colonial colors with a pristine paint job that looks fresh. A wreath of pine and holly announces this is a place that celebrates the holidays.

I carry our bags, and as I wait for her to unlock the door, a fleeting doubt plagues me. I saw Jude’s abductor from thirty or forty feet away, and itwasonly a glance. Could Sauce be right that my mind has filled in the blanks? God knows, I’ve been desperate to find the bastard.

When she pushes the door open and we step inside, an eerie sensation washes over me. With the curtains drawn, the entry is dark.

“Dad?” Sawyer opens the curtains and shades, revealing a small Christmas tree covered in wood ornaments and gold tinsel.

“Here,” a male voice calls back.

When he emerges, the man looks like a fucking professor or the cover model for an English riding magazine. Wool trousers, tweed jacket. Affable smile. Maybe Ihavegotten it wrong.

Then our eyes meet, and I know.His eyes, his suddenly intent facial expression and flushed cheeks, and maybe the tilt of his head are all familiar. My muscles contract, ready to go after him the way he deserves.

You swore to her.

I lock my body down, becoming rigid and still as I watch him.