What Dreams May Come (Berkley Sensation) by Sherrilyn Kenyon & Rebecca York & Robin D. Owens

Author:Sherrilyn Kenyon & Rebecca York & Robin D. Owens
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2006-07-05T04:00:00+00:00

Seven

Caleb watched Miranda’s eyes turn fierce. “A straight answer? Okay, I’ll give you a straight answer! My father told me he’d made a deal with my mom. She was his wife, so he gave her money, and he let her go—far, far away. But he didn’t have to let the son of a Gypsy off the hook. He said you were dangerous. He said he’d kill you—unless I broke off with you. And he said he’d kill you, if I told you what he’d said. Or if I told anyone else.”

He felt the air in his lungs solidify, leaving no room for another breath.

She was speaking again, and he struggled to hear the words above the buzzing in his brain.

“He wouldn’t tell me why, but I knew. He was afraid you would pick up something incriminating from my mind. He was afraid your mother or your aunt would do the same thing. So he sent my mom away where she couldn’t contact them.” When he didn’t speak, she went on quickly. “Of course, when my mom first started consulting them, he thought they were charlatans. He’d taunt my mother about how stupid she was going to ‘those mediums.’ But then they decided to tell her about his affairs, and she confronted him. He was mad at them. And mad at me for hanging out with you. But it wasn’t until that drug deal that he came to the conclusion that you and your family were totally dangerous.”

“That’s why you were frightened the last time I was here—when we talked about my mother and my aunt?”

“Yes.”

He was stunned by the information, but he managed to ask, “How does all this fit together?”

She sighed. “Dad promised he wouldn’t do the drug stuff again. He said it was a one-time deal because he needed money. And I believed him, because I didn’t have much choice when I was sixteen. But I don’t have to live with his lies now. I was on my way to confront him when somebody ran me off the road.”

She had finally put a lot of the pieces of the puzzle together for him.

He sat on the sleeping bag, trying to hang on to his sanity as all the assumptions he’d made about her—about the two of them—crashed and burned around him.

“I’m sorry,” he heard himself say.

“For what?”

“For hating you.”

“I tried to make sure you would! Because I was afraid for you.”

“Oh, Lord, Miranda. All these years . . . I kept telling myself I never really knew you. All these years I was too wounded to think straight.”

“I had to keep you safe.”

“Thank you for telling me the truth.”

“My father is still dangerous.” Her breath caught as her gaze darted around the small tent. “Caleb, where are you—really. I mean in the real world. Are you safe?”

It was a strange question, but he answered it. “I’m in my car. With the sunscreen in the windshield. And tinted windows. I think I’m safe.”

“Thank God.”

“You’re worried that your father could come looking for me?”

“Or Dustin.

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