Thunderstruck (Ramsey Security #1)

Darla glances at the TV. "If the guy from today is dead, does that mean you can't track down Locke?"

"Once the cops run his fingerprints, we'll get the info too. He might not be in the system, but we'll get his picture and see about running down his ID that way. It's impossible to remain invisible anymore."

"Does that mean people can find you?"

"Of course. I hid well, but there are cameras everywhere."

"Do you worry?"

"No. What's the point? I was careful when I was working, and I'm careful now. I'm not going to piss myself over a million maybes."

"Tough guy," she whispers, grinning behind her hair.

Smiling at her, I move from the chair to the couch. Darla notices my proximity and grins a bit more. A few minutes pass while I watch Darla fumbling with her puzzle pieces. She wants to look at me, but refuses to give into the urge.

I lean forward and stare harder at her. Darla ignores me for another minute before finally laughing. I laugh too.

"I like your hair," I say, tapping the table.

"Stop staring at me."

"No."

Darla narrows her eyes. "Don't you work for me?"

"Yes. I guess you could fire me."

Her smile grows. "What if I did?"

"Oh, I'd still find a way to stare. You have all these windows, and I own a lot of rifles with scopes. I could get comfy on a nearby building and watch you with your puzzles."

Darla's smiles fades as she looks at the windows. "Can someone be watching us now?"

"No. We set up security cameras on those buildings."

"Is that legal?"

"Who cares?"

"So wouldn't the rest of the team know you were on the building watching me after I fired you?" she asks, her gaze focused on me now.

"Yes, but I think they'd understand. I'm very popular with the crew."

Darla shakes her head and works on her puzzle again. I return to watching her. When she pushes up her sleeves, I notice before she does. I'd never thought a woman's forearms could be so damn sexy, but I take in the sight of her pale flesh. My fingers caress the seam of my jeans the way I wish I could touch her skin. I notice a small scar on the top of her hand and wonder if Locke caused it. The thin line looks old enough to be a childhood injury though.

Darla realizes her forearms are uncovered. I see uncertainty pass across her face. Mentally, I count the seconds until she covers herself.

Her gaze meets mine, and I realize she's trying to figure out if I've noticed.

"How could I not notice?" I ask, smirking. "You are such a vixen with those bare forearms."

Darla reaches for one sleeve, hesitates, and then leaves it alone. I don't need to know the details of her time with Locke to understand she's showing courage by revealing even an inch of her body to me. I watch her while she ignores me. Exhausted from her tears, Darla only wants to focus on the puzzle. I'll give her space... for now.





19


~~~

Darla

Reclaiming What Was Stolen

Locke tore away all my confidence. He stole me for my beauty and then made me feel ugly. My every flaw remarked on, I hated myself as much as I hated him. Locke especially obsessed over the scar on my hand.

"A flaw on my flawless Rose," he often said, needing me cleansed as if enough punishment might remove the blemish from my skin.

Studying the scar, I remember cutting myself as a kid while playing with Shelley. The wound was so minor, only scarring after I failed to clean it properly. I'd been too busy playing to care about hygiene. A decade later, I desperately wished I'd taken the time to wash it off and apply Neosporin.

Of course, if Locke hadn't punished me for the scar, he'd find another reason I needed cleansing. Deep inside, he hated the real Rose and all those fake ones who came afterwards.

"Tell me about Locke," Troy asks me after ordering our lunch.

"Why?" I ask, my voice betraying my panic. "Never mind. My answer is no."

"The police report was vague about what you remembered specifically about him. I know his basic looks like pale, thin, and thinning blond hair. I assume he has a small dick too. That's great info, but I need to know more."

"I don't know more. He fried my brain with all his punishments."

"I know your memories are all jumbled up, but some details that feel like nothing might give me what I need to find and kill this fucker."

"No."

"You're safe here with me. He's the one with a short life expectancy. You can help me put that bullet in his face."

"No," I say weakly and sigh. "Fine. What exactly do you want to know?"

"Tell me where he kept you. Did you move around a lot or remain in one place?"

Leaning my head back on the couch, I close my eyes and let myself return to a place I so desperately want to forget.

"Most of my time was at his house. It was surrounded by walls and woods."

"Describe the woods. How tall were the trees? Did the trees lose their leaves in the colder weather?"

"It rained all the time. Even when it didn't rain, the air felt moist. The trees were always green. The garden was lush every time I was allowed outside."