She squinted at the Spanish on the back. “What’s it mean?”

“Somethin’ you better not forget. It says, ‘A life lived in fear is a life half lived.’ It’s an old Spanish proverb.”

Her lips trembled. “But what does that have to do with—”

“I’m gonna fix it, okay?” I said in a soft voice. “I’m gonna make it so you never have to be afraid again.”

She sniffed, blinked her teary eyes. “H-how?”

I tipped her face to the sun and gently brushed her tears away with my thumbs. Closing my eyes, I pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Te quiero, Sombra.”

“Huh?”

I smiled. “Just remember what I said at the pond. I’m always gonna care about you. No matter what. Now stay put.” I shoved to a stand and headed for the main house. When she shot up after me, I yelled, “Stay put!” over my shoulder.

I cut across the lawn, my feet thundering on the ground. I could see much of myself in Shannon. When I was nine, I’d hidden under the covers in fear of Daddy’s rage. Too scared to take a piss, I’d wet the bed, or sometimes, I’d stash a mop bucket in my closet before I left for school. That way I wouldn’t have to venture down the hall late at night. Primetime for Gary’s binge drinking. Squeaky floorboards, rusty hinges, and a flushed toilet made noise, but peeing in a bucket didn’t. Even so, the bed-wetting, and makeshift urinals just led to more beatings and missed school days.

Lilith and Gary—two halves of the same evil coin. As a child, I wore fear like a second skin. Bisabuelo had sensed it during those summer visits, even though I never said a word. The old man knew lots of things without ever being told.

Growing up, I always dreaded going home. Which father would I get? The cold hermit who favored TV and silence over family, or the bully who stank of whores and booze? Stuff changed when I turned fifteen. By then, I towered over Gary’s five-feet-six inches. By then, I was big enough to hit back. That’s when a new father emerged. This one was a defeated foe whose reign of terror had ended with a whimper.

I threw the doors open to the mansion, ignoring the wide-eyed stares and swept past the knot of servants in the foyer. In six angry strides, I’d cleared the staircase to check the second floor, but Mommie Dearest was MIA. Lilith’s personal maid stood at the landing, a scowl sandblasted on her pale face. Her bony arms were wrapped around a tower of linen. She glowered at me as if I were a fly on a cake.

“Where is she?” I asked, barreling down the steps.

The woman moved her judgmental gaze over me. “Busy.”

Witch.

I was already stalking down the narrow corridor to the kitchen. I found Mrs. Campbell hard at work on the evening meal. The smell of baked ham and cinnamon perfumed the air.

Out of breath, I said, “Where’s Miz Bradford?”

Mrs. Campbell’s apple-cheeked face scrunched into a frown at my noisy intrusion, but her steel-gray head remained bent in concentration. Her chubby hands worked a thick knot of dough. “In the pool room—where she always is this time of day,” she snapped, not missing a beat as she kneaded the yellow blob. Her voice held a warning when I stormed off. “The lady’s in a devil mood tonight, Tracemore. Best leave her be. Um-hmm.”

I cocked my head to listen. All I had to do was follow the sound. That fucking song she played all the time, “Come Live With Me” was blaring from the indoor pool. I stalked out and cut down a side hallway to the back of the house.

Lilith had just climbed out of the pool when I got there. She wore a string bikini that hid nothing. Water cascaded down her skin as she toweled herself dry. Long, sable hair shimmered along her graceful back like a midnight waterfall.

Whether her eyes were bloodshot from chlorine or liquor, I couldn’t tell. I just wondered which Lilith I’d have to deal with. Had her bitch switch been flipped, or would she try and ram her tongue into my mouth again?

I cleared my throat. “Shannon’s got bruises.”

She tossed the towel and snagged a wineglass from the mini bar. “Good evening, Mister Dawson,” she trilled.

I stared down my nose at her. God, I hated the snooty way she said ‘Mister.’ I could see through the airs she was putting on. Hell, the woman had her hand on my cock four days ago! It didn’t matter that she was my boss. Or that she was rich and I was dirt-poor. The lowly servant who’d worked in obedient silence was long gone.

“The bruises, Miz Bradford. Who put ‘em there?”

That got her back up. “You forget your place, young man.”

“My ‘place’? Look, I know what you’ve been doin’ to her.”

Lilith cranked the ice-bitch routine up a notch. “Better watch yourself. You’re skating on thin ice as it is.”

“She’s bruised on the inside too,” I said, ignoring her threat. “You don’t know how lethal words are. One stupid remark can cut a child down faster than a bullet.” I moved closer. “Her back was bruised last week. She flinched when I went to hug her the other day. Now she’s got a bruised arm. Says she fell, but I know better.”

Brow arched, Lilith said, “Yes, I’m well-aware of your ‘contact’ with her.” She paused. “Let me ask you something, Mister Dawson. Do you think it’s proper for an eighteen-year-old ‘male stripper’ to have such a close relationship with a fourteen-year-old minor?”

Took a second before her insinuation hit home. It cut deep.

“I don’t like the time you spend together,” she said, mounting her imaginary high horse. “Especially now. I saw her diary last night and it was all there—every disturbing detail. The two of you dancing alone. The way you whisk her off on that bike, disappearing for hours at a time. You’re inseparable.”

My breath bounced off her. “Nothin’ is going on and you know it! She’s got nobody but me. Everyone else ignores her.”

“Get out.” She jerked away and her hair slapped my face like a wet curtain. It stung.

“Why do you hate her?” I wrenched Lilith around by the arm. She glared at my hand, but I kept a firm grip. “She’s your baby!”

“Not anymore, she isn’t.” Lilith jerked free. “You’re fired! Maybe now you can do your Playroom striptease full-time.”

An audience: Mrs. Campbell and other servants gathered, including Gerard, Lilith’s butler.

Mad as hell, and trembling with rage, I stalked off, but then she yelled, “Tell Dottie to pack up her mop and bucket. She’s fired too.”

Lilith had just poked a hornet’s nest. I was in her face within seconds. “Do what you want to me, but leave Mama out of it. She needs this job.”

“You should have thought about that before.”

“Guess what?” I hissed. “You won’t fire my mama, ‘cause if you do, I’ll spill all your dirty secrets. I’ll tell the town what a slut you are. How the only reason you kicked us out is ‘cause I wouldn’t stick my dick in your nasty hole. How you’ll spread your legs for anything that’s young, male, and fuckable!”

A flood of gasps ricocheted from the staff as my voice thundered across the room. Lilith went ballistic. Her face turned blood red and her eyes sizzled with hellfire. She hauled off and slapped me, her nails cutting a trio of red lines into my cheek.

I tried to restrain her while she bit and clawed, but she just drew more blood. I didn’t realize my own strength when I shoved her away from me with such force she hit the floor butt first, her body slamming into the mini bar. Bottles crashed around her.

SHANNON

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