Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
“I have a right to be here!”
“No, you don’t, Charlie,” Spencer said, stepping into the small ring of light provided by the girl’s and Daff’s flashlights. “We want to take you somewhere safe. And warm. You can have a bath and something to eat and not worry about anybody hurting you.”
She was sitting up on the thin mattress, her eyes huge and terrified. She looked small and helpless, and Spencer’s protective instincts immediately came to the fore.
“I don’t want to go to a shelter.”
“It’s not a shelter,” Daff told her, moving forward slowly so as not to spook her even more. “I promise you. It’s my parents’ place, they’re looking forward to meeting you.”
“I don’t need your charity.”
“It doesn’t have to be charity,” Daff said. “You can pay them back eventually.”
Charlie’s big eyes shifted to Spencer, and he could see fury mixed in with her terror.
“I only came here to tell you Malcolm is dead,” she spat out. “I was going to leave after that.”
Spencer felt the blood drain from his face, and he sensed Mason moving forward to stand beside him.
“What did she just say?”
“How do you know that name?” Spencer demanded, glancing around the room wildly, wondering if they’d left any family documents behind. How else would this girl know their father’s name?
“He had liver cancer. He died three months ago.” She folded her arms belligerently and lifted her chin to glare at them.
“Fuck,” Mason whispered from beside Spencer. He took a step forward, peering closely at the girl. “Fuck me.”
“How do you know Malcolm?” Spencer asked again, and Mason grabbed hold of his elbow painfully.
“Look at her,” he whispered. “The eyes, the cheekbones, that fucking glare.”
Spencer looked and staggered, his mouth dropping open.
“How old are you?” he asked hoarsely, and that stubborn jaw tilted even higher while her expression remained mutinous.
“He wanted me to find you and tell you what happened. And I have, so I’ll be leaving in the morning.”
“Over my dead body.” Spencer bristled.
“You can’t tell me what to do,” she fumed.
“I fucking can and I fucking will,” Spencer dictated. “I’m the head of this family, and as the youngest member, you will do what I say!”
He sensed Mason gaping at him and Daff turned to stare as well, her head swiveling from Spencer to Charlie and back again. He heard her swear shakily as she finally took in the resemblance.
The girl—his sister—leapt to her feet, looking ready to flee, but she had nowhere to go, not with Mason and Spencer blocking the door.
“Take it down a notch, lord and master,” Mason said drily before moving toward the girl. She watched him approach, her eyes wary, her thin body tense. She looked like a cornered animal. “Hey, Charlie . . . so Malcolm was your dad, yeah?”
A hesitant nod.
“And where’s your mother?”
“S-she died of an overdose four years ago. When I was ten.” So Malcolm’s taste in women hadn’t changed. He did have a thing for addicts.
“And Malcolm took care of you since then?” Mason asked.
“When he remembered I was there.” She shrugged and Mason snorted.
“That sounds like dear old Dad, all right,” Spencer said scathingly.
“We’d really like it if you stuck around a bit, Charlie,” Mason continued. “I’ve always wanted a sister.”
“How’d you know—” She looked startled that they’d seen through her thin disguise, and Spencer barely kept himself from rolling his eyes.
“The girl thing?” Mason asked, a smile on his lips. “I knew immediately. It took big bro over there a minute to figure it out. If we could see it, others can, too. It’s not safe for you out there, Charlie. Let us help you. Please.”
The girl hesitated, obviously confused, but Spencer could also see the yearning in her eyes, the desire to be warm and safe . . . to belong. He knew that feeling. Had experienced it often in his youth, and if the bastard weren’t already dead, he could have killed Malcolm for making all the same mistakes with this fragile child. For letting her to grow up in an unsafe environment, for allowing her to know fear and hunger, and then for fucking abandoning her.
At least the bastard had done one thing right—he’d sent her to Spencer and Mason. But he should have sent her sooner. The thought of this girl, their sister, for Christ’s sake, growing up the way he and Mason had was just horrifying. And even though this situation had completely thrown him, Spencer was going to make damned sure that she never knew such deprivations again.
He wasn’t aware of Daff coming up to stand beside him until her arm crept around his waist. He was grateful for her tacit support, because he was still reeling. He was desperate to make this child stay and not sure how to keep her from bolting the moment they let her out of sight. Mason’s approach was clearly working more than Spencer’s instinctively autocratic one had. So he let his brother do the talking and tried his best to keep his expression neutral, not wanting to terrify her.