“Katia, you can barely afford to feed Penny. We don’t have the money.”
Another slam to my chest. “I’ll find a way. I’ll work longer, I’ll—”
“Katia . . .”
Tears pour harder now, until I can’t see through them. “Mom,” I croak. “I’m going to fix this.”
She strokes my cheek. “Penny is everything right now, sweetheart. She needs you to take care of her.”
“I dragged you out here.” I hiccup. “This is my fault.”
“You didn’t drag me anywhere. I needed a fresh start, too . . .”
“But you didn’t need hell,” I cry.
She came with me, purely because she knew she couldn’t survive on her own. She’s always been optimistic, but I know what moving out here has done to her. I’m selfish. I should never have taken her away.
“It wouldn’t have mattered if we were there, or here. The situation is the same. You were pregnant, without a job. We would have struggled more there, with the price of rent and . . .”
“Mom,” I whisper.
“Katia, it’s fine. You did the very best you could. I can hardly complain, I’m your burden, and—”
“God, Mom, stop.”
“Katia,” she cuts me off. “We couldn’t have survived; you know it. I chose to come with you. I made the choice.”
“Mom.”
“I’m going to lie down. Please, don’t worry yourself. I’ll be all right in the morning.”
She disappears down the hall and Dusty’s words come back to me. I’m hiding out here for me; I’m not thinking of her or Penny. I’m thinking of myself.
I need to go back, I need to face and divorce Marcus so I can finally move on. Then I need to see if there’s a way my father can at least help my mom get the help she needs. He will help her; I just know he will.
I know what I have to do.
I walk into the kitchen, digging through my purse until I find my phone. I pull out a phonebook and find Penner Holdings, then I dial the number, trembling as it rings.
“Penner Holdings, Jane speaking.”
“Hi Jane,” I whisper. “I was wondering if Pierre still worked there?”
“No, he doesn’t. But I have his contact number.”
“Please.”
She gives it to me and I thank her, hanging up. I stare down at the number for a long time, debating if I have the guts to do this. Then I hear the sound of my mother throwing up, and I know I have no choice. I have to fix this. I dial the number, pressing the phone to my ear.
“Pierre speaking.”
I open my mouth but nothing comes out. God.
“Hello?”
“Dad?” I croak, not even grasping how easily that word slipped from my lips.
“Katia?” he whispers.
“It’s me.”
“Christ. Where are you? Where have you been?”
“It doesn’t matter right now. I need your help.”
“What’s going on?” His voice is low, concerned.
“It’s Mom. She’s sick. I can’t afford to . . .”
“Where are you?” he demands, not even letting me finish.
I rattle off our location, our situation and what I need to do.
“Katia,” he murmurs, low. “Honey, why didn’t you tell me?”
“I needed to get out of there. I had no choice.”
He sighs. “He’s been looking for you, you know?”
My skin prickles at the mention of him. “Please, don’t. I just need to end this with him, and figure out a way to sort my life out with Mom.”
“If she’s unwell, you can’t pack her up and move her now. She needs immediate treatment; going on a plane, or for a long car ride isn’t safe. I’m going to come out there, stay with her while you come back and sort out your issues with Marcus. I’ll pay for some help; get her fixed up. Then when you’re done, we can figure out what to do from there.”
“Really?” I whisper.
“Things are good for me now. I’m out of all the illegal business and I’m running my own company. I can afford to help her. Katia, I would have helped you, too.”
“You understand that at the time, I wasn’t thinking like that. I needed to be away, far, far away. I just wanted to start again . . .”
“I understand. I’m going to look into flights. I’ll text you with my arrival.”
“Thank you. I mean that.”
“You can stay at my house while I’m gone. You’ll be sharing with Ford, but he’ll stay out of your way.”
Ford. My brother.
“Okay.”
“I’ll be in touch. Hang in there, Katia.”
CHAPTER THREE
MARCUS
THEN
My dead eyes stare at the man hanging from the wall, my hands tight around his throat. He’s dangling there like a pathetic rag doll. His blue eyes are bulging and his mouth is opening and closing on continual gasps. He’s got his fingernails tearing into the flesh on my wrists as he tries to pry himself free, but nothing will help him now.
“There has to be something,” I growl, lifting him off the wall and slamming him back again.
“I looked,” he gasps. “There’s nothing.”
“There’s always something,” I bark. “I paid you good money to find her.”
“And I’ve tried. She’s not in the state anymore . . . if you want me to look farther, you’ll have to pay me more.”