Romancing Redemption Page 10

  Holding her hand like she pushed down on the air between them, Rosie stared at her sister, waiting for her own heart rate to even out. “Okay. I need more of an explanation than that. Take it slow and tell me everything. Everything.”

  Sara Beth straightened and thrust her hands on her lower back. Her breathing slowed and she looked up at the ceiling for a moment before trying to speak again. “Okay. I was going to the store for milk. I passed the bar and Madam climbed out of a car. She was talking to someone in the driver’s seat, I couldn’t see who, and they pointed toward the bar.” She took a moment to breathe in and out. “I wasn’t sure it was her, so I hid behind the corner of the building. Oh, it was her. She went inside. I’m not sure what she wanted or even if she’s still there, but I ran here as fast as I could.”

  Sweat broke out on Rosie’s upper lip. She looked around the bathroom to find a focal point, ending up on a crack in the tile beside the pair of stalls. She stared, working through every scenario in her head.

  Nothing made her feel safe.

  “Okay, here’s what we’ll do. You’ll stay with me here until my shift ends. If we don’t pick up and get more customers in the next hour, I’m sure Tom will send me home early. I’ll get you something to eat. We’ll walk home together and take the back street. She isn’t from here. As far as I know, I’ve never seen her in town. She won’t know where to look or even know exactly what she’s looking for.” She returned her gaze to Sara Beth, noting her sister’s sickly pallor and quivering lip. Rosie pulled her in for a tight hug. “It’s okay. She’s not here for us. Most likely, she’s forgotten all about us. Don’t worry.”

  But even as Rosie patted her sister’s back and rocked her in a soft swaying motion, she didn’t believe her own words. Madam might not be looking for them, but she wouldn’t pass up a chance to ruin things for the Scott sisters, if she knew they were there in town.

  “THANKS, TOM, HAVE A good night.” Rosie untied her apron and wrapped the strings around the folded material. Only one person had come in after Sara Beth’s arrival and it was Tom’s nephew just looking for a soda. Tom had waved her off about forty-five minutes later.

  Ducking her head as they pushed out the door, Rosie muttered to her sister. “Let’s go around the back. I don’t mind taking the alley way home.” Behind the Main Street businesses a dirt road acted as an alley for the garbage truck to pass by once a week and for delivery trucks to stop when needed.

  With the sun just starting to set, long shadows darkened the alleyway, giving a sense of comfort when they didn’t want to be seen. Keeping a swift pace, Rosie glanced at Sara Beth, unable to read the expression on her face in the dim lighting.

  Wham!

  Rosie and the person she’d run into fell to the ground. Scrambling to her feet, Rosie reached down to help the woman up then recoiled when she recognized the overly made-up face. “Madam.” Like an expletive the word gushed from her mouth.

  Wrapping an arm around Sara Beth, Rosie searched for an escape. They could go back, turn the corner, get to the paved street, and run.

  Rosie spun to try.

  Phillip stood in her way, arms crossed over his chest. A grin paired with narrowed eyes stilled Rosie’s movements. He wanted her to run. He wanted to have to chase her. And catch her.

  Shoving Sara Beth behind her, Rosie backed up against the rear wall of a store which looked to be closed down for the day, judging by the lighting and locked door. Rosie didn’t have any qualms jiggling the handle to check.

  Madam’s cackling laughter grew, echoing off the brick walls and the thin line of trees across the dirt road. She slowly rose from where she’d fallen, shoving her ratted hair from her face. Readjusting her clothes, she sauntered forward, bringing with her the stench of unwashed body and what could only be described as rotting cabbage.

  Wrinkling her nose, Rosie stopped moving, careful to keep both Phillip and Madam in sight. She squared her legs under her and lifted her chest, ready. No one was going to hurt her or her sister. “You’re working together, huh?” She looked hard at Madam. “What do you want?”

  Madam sidled closer to Phillip, her professionally pursed lips smirking. Hands on hips, she bent a bit at the waist and spoke, her words dripping with condescension. “Well, well, little Rosie Scott.” Studying Rosie with a practiced eye, she appraised her openly. “You turned out even more beautiful than I originally thought you would. According to Phillip, here, you’re doing very well for yourself.”

  Even her compliments felt like slaps to the face. Rosie gritted her teeth. “I don’t know what you want, but you better spit it out. I’m not a little girl anymore. You can’t hurt me.” She stepped toward Madam and lifted her fist to the side.

  Madam visibly flinched, but held her ground, looking toward Phillip for support.

  The jerk came closer, staring hard at Rosie.

  But she wouldn’t back down.

  Sara Beth’s breathing grew shallower and she dug her fingers into the back of Rosie’s shirt, etching some of her skin as well.

  Rosie met his gaze, her jaw tight. She shook her head almost imperceptibly. “What did you do, Phillip?” And like a puzzle, all the pieces fit. “You called her, didn’t you?” Her muscles tensed.

  He shrugged. “You’re taking liberties and not staying in line, Rosie. I have a witness that you’re a whore. Now, you’ll either do what I say or I’ll ruin you.”

  “What’s he talking about, Rosie? What are they doing?” Sara Beth’s whisper filled the silent void their threats created.

  “Sh. Nothing.” Rosie pushed her hand on Sara Beth’s arm. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Phillip laughed. “You mean, little sister still doesn’t know? Let’s enlighten her.” He angled his head to see Sara Beth better and lifted his eyebrows. “Your father is Devlyn Caracus. You lived at Madam’s Mare Ranch outside of Clearwater County. Your father killed your mom. And Rosie might as well be a whore.” He said the latter with a hard glint in his eye as he met Rosie’s gaze.

  To Sara Beth’s credit, she didn’t react to Phillip’s revelations. She kept quiet, giving Rosie the confidence to say what she had to. “Well, she didn’t take it the way you’d expected, right, Phillip? Maybe you’re wrong about this town and what people will think. You don’t know anything about me or the friends I’ve made. So go ahead and start talking and then you can go to hell!” She stamped her foot, emphasizing the last word.

  “Oh, the townspeople will do exactly what I think they will and you’re going to need more than a few friends to save yourself. I’ll be expecting you to beg when the time comes.” He crossed his arms, head back as he watched her from lowered eyes.

  “How did you get her here? We aren’t worth anything to her now.” Rosie couldn’t make the connection between the two. She glanced between them, unsure how the relationship held together.

  Madam stepped a bit closer, lowering her voice with glee. “Apparently, your friend here has some paperwork proving you’re Caracus’s daughters. The Feds are looking for you and there’s a reward. I’m collecting it... unless you go with Phillip, then he gives me a reward and I go on my way. If not... I discuss my past with a few people and show your picture around town.” She shrugged. “Your choice.”

  “Are you kidding me? You’re not going to drop this? I don’t belong to you, Phillip. I never will be.” Rosie slapped her upper thigh in frustration.

  Phillip moved to within three feet of her. His face twisted and his eyes narrowed. “Do you really think that ranch hand is going to care about you when he finds out the truth behind you? Nobody will want you. I know all about it, and I’ll still take you. Yes, you’re damaged goods, but you can work at redeeming yourself. I didn’t know about Caracus, but that just makes it more exciting.”

  “You think I’m a whore. We could never work.” She hissed, anger stealing her ability to keep her emotional display in check. Tears swelled in her eyes. “You don’t own me. You don’t get to treat me like this. You have to stop.�
��

  “No.” He backed up, shaking his head. “Not until you’re mine.”

  Turning to Madam, who watched the exchange with amusement curling her dark maroon painted lips, Rosie pointed her finger and bit out. “If you come near me or my sister again, I’ll do more harm to you than you ever did to us. I’ll break you.”

  A shadow crossed Madam’s eyes and she turned to whisper something to Phillip. Rosie used the distraction to yank Sara Beth alongside her. They ran past the opening Phillip had given them when he’d walked closer for a headlong approach.

  Running as fast as they could, Rosie and Sara Beth didn’t stop until they slammed their apartment door behind them.

  Sara Beth didn’t let herself take a full breath until she had upended the couch and shoved it against the door.

  The worst had happened and Rosie didn’t want to face it.

  Sara Beth reached out and pulled Rosie into her arms. After a moment of recovering silence, they both began to cry.

  “ARE YOU GOING TO BE okay by yourself?” Rosie lifted her cleaning bucket to her waist and waited by the door for Sara Beth to give some sign that she was going to come out of everything without too much damage. “If you’d feel better, you’re welcome to join me, but the museum is extremely boring at night and I’m only doing floors this time.” Sometimes Sara Beth enjoyed going for all-nighters with Rosie to clean. Made her feel older. But this time, she just shook her head and flipped a page in the book she’d stared at for over an hour.

  And why wouldn’t she be upset with Rosie? She’d just found out her sister had been lying for quite some time about, well, a lot of things. “Okay, I’ll be back about two or three. Lock the door.” The last she didn’t need to say, but it made her feel better to utter the precautions.

  Sara Beth nodded, but didn’t look up.

  Rosie left the apartment, waiting outside the door until the familiar grating of the lock came from above the handle. Rolling her shoulders, she tilted her head back. “Okay, Rosie. Come on.” Straightening up, she headed down the stairs.

  Evening had already fallen and she didn’t want to take any chances by walking to the museum. She hadn’t seen or heard anything from the malignant duo since the night before and had even called in sick to the diner to avoid seeing them. But she was working for herself at the museum and couldn’t call in sick.

  Driving in the Bug the six or seven blocks to the museum seemed the smartest thing she could do under the circumstances.

  Short of buying a gun – which she didn’t have money for – and hunting Phillip and Madam down and putting a bullet through their throats. Rosie didn’t have any other way to defend herself other than to hope and pray that the town respected her enough not to listen to Phillip.

  But Michael? What if he heard? And heard from someone besides her? He wouldn’t trust her, wouldn’t want to be with her.

  The thought stung. She’d wanted to be with him for so long, had finally allowed herself to believe it was possible.

  Leave it to Phillip to ruin her life for her. And Madam. And most especially Caracus. The bastard didn’t want to leave her alone even in death.

  Starting up the Bug, Rosie revved the engine down the road to the museum. The short distance passed quickly and she parked in the lot beside the large gray building. The time seemed to pass in seconds as she simmered over the happenings of the previous night. She got out of the car and locked the door, leaving nothing to chance.

  Inside the museum, lights were on, and the door wasn’t locked. Rosie entered cautiously, calling out while keeping the door half-open behind her.

  The curator appeared from across the entryway. He held up a rectangular piece of paper. “Hello, Rosie. You don’t have to come any further inside.” Rushing to meet her at the door, he pushed it open further and ushered her back over the threshold. “Here’s your check for last time and for the remaining jobs I promised I’d hire you for. I won’t be needing your services after all.” He pressed his lips together in what would have to pass as a professional smile and waited for her to take the small steps past the door frame.

  Once she’d cleared the path of the swinging panel, he pulled the door shut and locked it, avoiding her questioning gaze.

  Everything had happened too fast.

  Questions bubbled inside Rosie. What just happened? She stared at the check he’d pressed into her fingers, unable to register the multi-digit amount. Had he just paid her to not work for him?

  Had she been fired?

  She lifted her gaze and found Phillip leaning against the streetlight pole, arms crossed and the purest expression of satisfaction lifting the corners of his lips. He crisply nodded and pushed away from the pole to stride from view.

  The bastard walked away with all her dreams crushed in his back pocket.

  Rosie

  Chapter 15

  ROSIE WRAPPED HER FINGERS tighter around the mug, seeking the warmth and comfort only hot beverages offered. She stared into the brown depths, looking for some magic time travel button that would delete anything from her past that wouldn’t help her or her sister. She raised a hand to her forehead, fingertips warm on her cool skin. Of course, if the bad stuff was erased from her past, she wouldn’t have anything to remember.

  Except her mom.

  Sara Beth wandered out of the bedroom right then, bringing Rosie’s focus from her cup to her sister. Sara Beth moved her hips the same way their mother had.

  Nothing seemed safe to talk about and they hadn’t spoken since arriving home the night before, but Rosie couldn’t stay quiet. She had to know. “Do you remember Mom?” Her throat tightened. She’d never asked Sara Beth that. Never spoke of their mother.

  Sara Beth stopped with her hand on the fridge door handle and stared at the floor, chewing her bottom lip. After a moment, she shook her head and shrugged. “Sometimes I think so? But other times, I’m not sure if what I remember isn’t a memory of you, you know?” She swallowed, raising her eyes to meet Rosie’s gaze. “I remember him and how scared we were when he came home.”

  Tears rolled down Rosie’s cheeks and she set her tea on the counter. Crossing the short distance to her sister, she pulled Sara Beth’s cheeks into her hands and searched her face. “You have to know how much she loved us. We... she took a lot of those beatings so we wouldn’t have to.” Her gaze roved over Sara Beth’s features. “You look so much like her. I think we both do.”

  Lips pressed together, Rosie drew in a long breath through her nose. Her chest rose and she rubbed the suddenly present tears from Sara Beth’s face. “You know, the last thing Mom said to me was ‘watch out for your sister. I love you both.’ I don’t think I ever told you that.” Her whisper wrapped around them, and she nodded as if Sara Beth needed something more to affirm of its truth.

  “She loved us? Then why did she leave?” Sara Beth’s sob jerked from her body and she threw herself into Rosie’s arms. “Why did she leave? Why did we have to live at Madam’s house? I missed Mom so much. And then I couldn’t remember what she looked like. I can’t remember. I can’t see her. Oh, man.” She sniffed, burying her face in Rosie’s shoulder.

  “I know. I know. Sh.” Rosie stroked Sara Beth’s hair from top to bottom, rocking her. They didn’t mention the night before, because what was there to say? But their mother deserved a conversation and all the rawness from the time in front of Phillip and Madam pushed out the reality of their mother’s death. Rosie patted her sister’s back. “She didn’t want to leave us, she didn’t. We got out of that hell hole Devlyn put us in and we’re doing okay. We can do this.” I can do this.

  A knock at the door broke through their cocoon of grief.

  They pulled away from each other, to arm’s length and turned to stare at the door.

  Rosie called out. “Who is it?”

  “Michael.” Muffled, his voice couldn’t be more welcomed in that space of time. “I came to take you to breakfast.”

  Sara Beth’s lips parted and she gushed. “He’s sw
eet. You’re so lucky.”

  Patting Sara Beth’s arm, Rosie left her sister to answer the door. She reached out and pulled him inside, careful to lock the door once he’d entered all the way.

  She’d fought any and all complete thoughts about the man and the possible relationship with him she wanted to develop further. Because anything she pursued with him was only setting him up for harm. Phillip was crazy but he took things seriously. And he made good on his last threat. He was tearing her life apart. Bit by bit.

  Michael was too good a piece of it. She couldn’t let Phillip destroy Michael too.

  Tears still fresh on her face, new ones traced the paths of the previous. She’d never had respect for self-made martyrs, but heck if she didn’t take that path right then. “I’m going to jump in here and just get this said. Michael, I can’t see you again. I’m sorry.” She crossed her arms over her chest and bit her tongue, avoiding looking directly at his face.

  “What? I don’t understand.” He wrapped his fingers around her upper arms, shaking her just the barest amount to get her to look him in the face. “What happened?”

  She pushed from his hold. “I’m not good enough for you.”

  “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?” He pulled his hat off and tossed it on the couch. His dark hair curled around his face, bringing out the dark depths of his eyes.

  Rosie ignored Sara Beth’s whispering footsteps as she retreated into the bedroom. The door closed.

  The only ways she could protect Michael included getting him out of her life and full disclosure. The former didn’t hurt quite as bad when compared to how final the latter felt.

  She jerked from his hands, suddenly mad that she had to force his hand, force what she knew would happen. “Fine. You want to judge me? Here’s something to think about.” She lifted her chin, defiance in her rigid shoulders and muscles tight between her shoulder blades. “I’m the daughter of hated Devlyn Caracus – you know, the leader of that gang? And I worked in Mare’s Ranch for five years as nothing more than a stupid scullery maid, if there is such a thing anymore.” She smiled, fighting the tears of shame. “So, while I appreciate your attention, I’m not worth it. You deserve better.”