SEAL the Deal(44)

Lacey regretted bringing it up. “Well, it could be someone from any of our lives. Maybe the Sandovals aren’t happy with the fixer-upper I found for them,” she said, hoping to lighten the tone.

Behind them, Bess’s voice was small and hesitant. “I think I might have an idea who it was.”

Lacey sat up. “Bess, we thought you were asleep.”

“I was for a while. But then I got something in my head and I can’t go back to sleep. It’s about what you said—who did this?”

“You think you know?” Maeve set her wine glass down.

“I thought of one possibility.” Rubbing her belly protectively, Bess sat next to Lacey. “You both have been great, you know, about not prying about the father. But I need to tell you something.”

“Only if you want to, Bess.” Lacey took her hand.

Bess took a deep breath, resolved. “In college I dated a guy. He seemed great. Really too good for me, I thought. He was smart and athletic. And I was, well, really pathetic then.”

“You’re not pathetic,” Maeve quickly interrupted.

“No, I was. I look back on all this now, and think ‘God, how did I let this happen?’” She shook her head. “One night he had been drinking and he got mad at me about something. I don’t even remember what, exactly. He hit me. Twice actually. That was the first time.”

Maeve drew a breath in sharply, her eyes turning to daggers.

Lacey squeezed Bess’s hand. “Go on.”

“He was so apologetic the next day. He swore it was the beer. And I really thought I loved him. I wanted to forgive him. And he was great for about a month. But then it happened again. Much worse. He hit me a couple times and kicked me in the stomach.” Bess shifted her weight in the soft couch. “I look back now, and can’t believe I let there be another time. But it wasn’t just when he hit me. It was his words. He always made me question myself, manipulated me—I don’t know—into thinking it was my own fault. He hated all my friends, so I distanced myself from them. By the end, I really believed him about everything. I believed that I wasn’t good enough for him. I believed that I had to answer to him for everything—even things I hadn’t done. I was always so scared of doing the wrong thing.”

The birch logs popped in the fireplace and Bess paused. “When I found out I was pregnant, something snapped in me. I realized that even if I was the worthless person he had convinced me I was, I would not live my life worrying about the day when his temper would turn on this child. No one will ever strike this child.”

“You’re goddamn right about that,” Maeve said through her teeth.

“So that’s why you told your parents you were in Europe?” Lacey asked, the pieces finally falling into place. “You knew he’d go to them first if he went looking for you.”

Bess nodded. “For the first time in my life, I’m actually glad my parents cared so little that they believed me.”

“And the baby?” Maeve’s voice was so soft that it didn’t even sound like her. “Have you given any thought to what you’ll do with the baby when she’s born?”

“I thought about adoption for a while. But I really want to keep her. And I think that if I can just stay in hiding for a while, until the baby is born, maybe a bit after, then I can go on with my life. I’ll let my parents think I got knocked up by some hot French guy I met at a café in Paris or something.” She managed a half-hearted laugh.

Maeve shared a look with Lacey, who gave her a slight nod back.

“We’ll get through this together, the three of us,” Lacey said, now reaching her other hand over to Maeve so that they were all three joined.

Maeve then leaned over and took Bess’ other hand so they formed a circle. “The four of us,” she corrected.





CHAPTER ELEVEN




“So this is the guy?” Standing behind Mick’s desk, Jack studied the photo Bess had provided.

“Yeah. They thought it would be good for us to know the full story since we’re around the house so much. In case we see the guy,” Mick explained, his voice hardening, “so we can kill the son-of-a-bitch.” He stared at the photo, memorizing every line, every curve, and the smile he vowed to wipe from the guy’s smug face.

“It doesn’t make sense, though.” Jack settled behind his computer. “I don’t think he’s the one who broke in. Abusive boyfriends don’t hunt down their ex-girlfriends just to throw around their clothes and files and dump some boxes. If it was him, he’d be lurking in the bushes till she got home, and then beat the crap out of her.”