Stealing Gold (The Logan Series Book 4) by Sally Clements Page A

depleted, as though the confession
had taken everything from her and left her drained.
    Leaving
her alone wasn’t an option. If he did, she’d regroup, rebuild the walls, and
drip out information instead of letting the whole story escape in a flood.
    He
needed the flood.
    He
placed her on his bed, and removed her shoes. “Take your jeans off.” He walked
to the window and jerked the drapes closed, cutting out the sun that blazed
into the room. When he turned she hadn’t moved. “Do it, Stacy. You’ll be more
comfortable.”
    Her
fingers went to the button of her jeans. He stripped to boxers and T-shirt, pulled
back the cover, and climbed in. Sure, he looked at her butt covered in pale
pink silk—he was a man not a robot. As his body was more than ready to tell
him.
    He
drew the covers over them. Wrapped his arm around the upper curve of her
breasts, but angled the lower part of his body away from her.
    “Tell
me.”
    “We
lived in a run-down apartment. My parents had the bedroom, and I slept on the
couch. When I was a kid, I never understood why so many people were always
visiting my house. I used to think it was because we were really popular.” She
laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. “They’d come all hours of the night. Pa’d take
them into the kitchen, and there’d be raised voices, sometimes laughter. My
mother was always either drunk or asleep. I got up every morning, dressed, and
walked to school. There was never any breakfast in the house—one of my teachers
used to bring me in a sandwich and leave it in my desk.”
    “They
knew you were neglected? And did nothing?” His arm tightened around her.
    “My
father wasn’t the sort of guy you’d want to cross. I was just a kid. I didn’t
understand for years what was going on in that house, until I was thirteen and
a boy I recognized from school arrived at my house in the middle of the night.
I was leaving the bathroom and Pa was taking him into the kitchen. I was so
surprised, I blurted out ‘what are you doing here?’
    “‘Getting
ready to get high.’ That’s what he said. That was the moment I discovered my
dad was a dealer. Before then, they’d made feeble efforts to keep it from me,
but after that night, neither of them even bothered to hide it. My ma was
always one of three things: drunk, stoned, or passed out.”
    “Have
you brothers or sisters?”
    Her
head moved gently against his. “There was only me.”
    “What
about social services?”
    “They
came around sometimes, but we’d lie on the floor to hide, and pretend we were
out. The teacher who gave me the sandwiches—she taught me how to play the
guitar, and encouraged me to enter a singing competition. I didn’t win, I came
second, but Lester was there, and he recorded me from the audience and wanted
to be my manager.” Her voice was scratchy, hoarse.
    “He
got the record label interested, but as I was underage, I had to have one of my
parents sign it, or give Lester authority to act for me. I remember the shock
on his face when they brazenly asked him what it was worth. What he’d pay for
their signatures.”
    He
couldn’t stop himself holding her closer. Laying his head against the back of
hers, and breathing in the scent of her hair. “They signed.”
    “He
drew up an agreement. I wanted to just get emancipation. I was old enough to make
my own deals—I didn’t need them—but Lester had bigger plans. Being the
fourteen-year-old who had cut herself away from her loser family would affect the
way the record label saw me. Might cause trouble in the future. So he insisted
we work with my parents.
    He
suggested a deal where he  could represent me and effectively become my
guardian, in exchange for an initial lump sum, and a payment to them every
year. He also wanted them to stay away and never refer to me as their daughter.”
    “They
were okay with this?” He tried to keep the anger banked. It was difficult to
avoid comparing her background to his.
    “It
was as though