Page 13 of Treasured by Them (Rose and Dagger #3)

Danica

E dmund goes straight to his room when we get back to the penthouse, and I go straight to mine.

Troy follows me. “Where did that Vorsong asshole grab you?”

“Just off of the dance floor, close to the stairs.” I’m trying not to think about it.

“No.” He clears his throat. “Where on your body?”

“Oh.” Is he going to get all possessive and annoying about this?

Bad enough the guy licked me and I feel disgusting.

Speaking of, instead of packing, I should be taking a shower.

I walk into the attached bathroom, giving Cackle a quick pet on my way.

“On my shoulder. Will you take care of Cackle this week?”

“Sure.” He stays on my heels, following me into the bathroom.

I arch an eyebrow at him and undo the side zipper on my dress before shimmying out of it.

“Let me see.” He takes two giant steps forward. “Which shoulder? Never mind—I can see the bruise. Shit, Dani.”

He caresses my arm and the area I’m assuming around the mark, not touching it.

I look back at him. “Are you going to threaten him with a knife, too?”

“Dani. Edmund didn’t hurt Caleb.”

“He wanted to.”

“So did I.” His tone is so casual, it makes me flinch. He smiles down at me. “We care about you so much, Dani. We want to protect you, and Caleb failed at that. So yeah, we’re pissed.”

They care about me. I care about them, too. But this is a lot, and my cheek still feels violated, so I turn on the shower faucet and strip out of my shoes and underwear.

Troy starts taking off his shirt.

I shake my head. “I don’t want to fuck around right now.”

“Can I just get in there with you?”

If I said no, he would listen. He’d give me space. He’d let me be.

Suddenly, I don’t want that. “Yes.”

He strips down. He’s sporting a semi, but since he ignores it, I do, too. I get under the spray and reach for my foaming face soap.

“Let me.” Troy gently pries the bottle from my grasp, squirts soap into his hand, and tilts my head back. “Which cheek?”

I point. He dabs the soap over my cheek, then massages it in. It’s probably good he’s the one doing this job, because if it were me, I’d be grabbing a pumice stone or a nail file to sand down my skin.

“What did he look like?” Troy asks.

He’s asking about the Vorsong guy.

Stifling a shudder, I close my eyes and try to focus on Troy’s careful fingertips as he rubs in the soap. “Brown hair, slicked back. Expensive suit. He had heavy eyebrows. I couldn’t tell what color his eyes were.”

“Mustache?”

“No.”

“Muscular, or skinny?”

“Muscular. He had on a suit. It looked expensive.”

His hand hesitates its circular motion on my cheek. “Probably Tate.”

I mentally file away the info. Their names are meaningless—I don’t know who any of the Vorsongs are. Hell, I don’t know the names of half the guys Granddad associates with. As a kid, I called them all “uncle.”

“Ready to rinse off?” Troy asks.

I put my face in the water, allowing it to wash away all traces of Probably Tate, all traces of the soap. But Troy’s touch remains—he’s replaced the bad memory with something good, with the feeling of him protecting me, caring for me, clearing away the ickiness of the assault.

When we step out of the shower, a thud sounds from my room. It’s too loud to be Cackle, unless he’s learned how to move furniture. Troy doesn’t look concerned as he passes me a towel.

“What was that?” I ask.

“Just me.” Edmund peers around the doorway. He glances up and down my naked body, eyes appreciative even after I wrap the towel around myself. “I got your suitcase out for you. Anything special you want to bring?”

My heart thaws by a couple of degrees. I can tell he doesn’t want me to leave, but he’s still taking care of me. Both of them are, but I’d thought Edmund was too angry.

“Comfy clothes. My diaries. Cackle.”

“Oh, no, Cackle’s staying here with us.” He winks. “Troy and I are going to spoil the shit out of him since we can’t spoil you.”

I look past him, to where Cackle is sprawled out on my bed on his back, looking like he has just experienced the most exhausting day of his life. “Obviously he could use a little spoiling.”

While I get dressed, Edmund fills up my suitcase. He pauses at my diaries and holds up the camp scrapbook. “This, too?”

“Yeah.” I’m going to look through it again, see if I can’t find any clues.

I don’t say it out loud, though—I feel stupid enough already for wasting my time, and the police department’s time.

I’m pretty sure eight-year-old me didn’t happen to catch the murder on my camera.

Not even in the reflection of the lake. But who knows? Something tells me to keep trying.

Edmund gestures at the filled suitcase. “Okay, you’re all set.”

“Thanks.” His behavior scared me, earlier. When he was so coldly furious at Caleb. But now he seems normal again. Something shiny and plastic glints from within my folded clothes. “What’s that?”

“Pepper spray.” He shrugs. “I’d rather give you a gun or knife, but if you don’t have experience with them, they’re just as dangerous to you as they are to anyone else.”

“Edmund, I’m going to be with my family. I don’t need this.”

He zips my suitcase and pats the top. “Take it anyway, angel.”

* * *

Troy

On the way to Dani’s family cabin, we don’t talk much. At one point, she’s been quiet for so long that I think she’s asleep. When I glance over, though, her eyes are open.

Every now and then, Caleb’s headlights flash in my rearview.

I informed him that if he wanted to make things up to Edmund, he needed to get his ass to Dani’s cabin.

Tonight. I’d rather send her here with an army.

Hell, I’d rather stay there with her. But she wants to be alone, and I’m needed in San Esteban.

Especially if Tate Vorsong was personally involved in threatening her.

They’re escalating. Whatever happens next, it’ll be on our turf, and Edmund’s going to need me.

Out here, Dani will be safe from all that bullshit.

When we reach the cabin, I carry in her bags.

I call Caleb in and the two of us search the place.

Both the upstairs and the downstairs, and even the basement.

The place is big, luxurious. More of a mansion with a rustic vibe than an actual cabin.

Nobody’s here. Caleb goes outside while I say goodbye to Dani.

“Be careful in the city,” she whispers, clinging to my shoulders. “That Tate guy was really super scary.”

“Scarier than me?”

She grins. “ Almost as scary as you…Daddy.”

I fucking love it when she calls me that. “I’m going to miss you, little girl. I’m only a phone call away. Same goes for Edmund. Got it?”

“Got it.” She stands on her tiptoes. She still can’t reach me for a kiss, so I lift her up. She wraps her legs around my waist and I take her mouth with mine.

Kiss after kiss after kiss, I drink her in. I never want to let her go.

* * *

Danica

I fell asleep feeling lonely, and I wake up the next morning feeling lonely. At one point in the night, I had another nightmare about sinking into mud. A heavy weight pressed me down. I woke up, shaking, and it took me forever to calm down enough to fall back to sleep.

If I’d stayed in San Esteban, Edmund and Troy would have comforted me. And right now, I would be curled up between them, feeling their heat on either side of me.

It’s been less than fourteen hours since I saw them, and I miss them so much, my heart hurts.

I roll over in bed and pick up my phone. Did they text?

Nothing.

This is ridiculous. They care about me, but there’s no way they can feel the same as I do. I’m like a teenager with a crush. It’s embarrassing.

What I need is a task, something concrete to occupy my mind.

I get dressed and grab my diary of unsent letters, because I have a few choice things to say to Probably Tate Vorsong. I take my math journal, too, so I can calm myself down after I go off on Probably Tate.

I’m halfway down the stairs when I stop. Instead of journaling, I should look through my camp scrapbook and try to find clues. I go back up and switch out the journals for the scrapbook.

Holding it in my arms makes me shiver. I want to put it back. But Britney Gardner deserves better from me. If my memories can provide any clue to what happened to her, then I need to work harder to unlock them.

After making a cup of coffee, I take it and my scrapbook outside. The back patio overlooks the lake. We have a dock out there for “fishing”—which for my family is really just sitting, eating snacks, and sunbathing. I might do some of that later.

I make myself comfortable on one of the deck chairs.

A bee buzzes slowly around a potted geranium near my feet.

The lake sparkles in the morning light. Far across the water, someone sits in a boat.

It looks like they’re doing some real fishing.

An osprey dips low over the water, doing some fishing of her own.

A fortifying sip of coffee, and I’m ready to examine the past.

The pages are heavy between my fingertips.

All those photos of the lake—I was obsessed.

It’s the very lake I’m looking at now, although from a different vantage point.

I pause on the page where I’m in a boat with two other kids.

We seem so happy—it’s an idyllic image. Smiling kids with sun-pinked cheeks, bright red camp t-shirts, brilliant blue sky above.

A few pages later, I come to an image of my cabin’s interior.

I have no idea why I would’ve taken this photo.

Documenting the experience, I guess. I was such a messy kid.

All of my things are strewn over the top of my bed.

One item catches my eye—my math journal.

It’s the same one I have now, although much cleaner.

If I remember correctly, my mom bought it the night before I left for camp.

She wanted me to record my memories. I ended up scrawling lines and lines of nonsense numbers instead.

There aren’t any clues about Britney in my cabin, so I keep flipping pages. I’m about to take a sip from my coffee mug when I notice a hush surrounding me. Immediately, the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

I slowly lift my head. Caleb hurries toward me, silent on the lawn, an intense look in his brown eyes. He motions for me to duck down.

Confused, I set down my mug and lower myself to the deck. He runs over toward me, keeping low to the ground.

“What—what is it?” I whisper.

“Shh.” He shakes his head, pulls a gun from his pants.

“You have a gun ?”

He backs me toward the sliding glass door. “Quiet. Please. Someone’s here.”