mother’s words. Lily had loved her and would still be with her if someone hadn’t brutally stolen her life.
“Ivy?” Worry tinged Matt’s voice. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” She placed her empty coffee mug on the counter, inhaling sharply. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.”
He nodded. “Then I’ll go. Let you get some sleep.”
Ivy nodded, as well, but she didn’t turn around. She wasn’t sure she would sleep. Not with memories of that bloody message and dead chicken taunting her. Not knowing that someone might try to harm her.
And that Matt might be in danger, too.
MATT ORDERED HIMSELF to leave. Being in the same room with Ivy disturbed his equilibrium. Resurrected his protective instincts. Made him want to hold her and erase the fear from her eyes. Made him want other things he couldn’t have. A kiss. A touch. A night with her in his arms.
But he had a mission and nothing would deter him. Especially a woman. Still, Ivy looked so lost he could hardly drag himself away. Traces of guilt and helplessness had echoed in her voice. And fear lingered in her eyes as well as the memory of that gruesome threat.
Restless energy pounding through him, he laid a hand on her shoulder and gently turned her to face him. Her creamy skin looked ashen. “Ivy? Did you remember something else?”
She shook her head. “Not about that night. Just…little things about my mother. The reason she named me Ivy.”
He smiled. “For those deep green eyes of yours.”
“No. Because she wanted me to attend an Ivy League college. She said my eyes were the same color as the ivy.”
His throat tightened. In spite of the fact that she’d frequented Red Row, Lily had loved Ivy. Had Lily been working to save money to help her daughter escape the life she’d been saddled with? She should have found another way, a life that hadn’t been so dangerous.
“But my father called me Poison Ivy,” Ivy whispered, a bleak note in her voice. “He said I was poison to his marriage.”
Anger sent a blade of pain through Matt. “Like I said earlier, Ivy, your father was a bastard.”
She bit down on her lip, and the soft glow from the lamp across the room cast her beautiful face in an angelic glow. Matt wondered what she saw when she looked at him. The scar on his face? The animal he’d become in the pen?
The filth, the fights, the unspeakable acts…
He wished he could will away his past. He ached to kiss her, almost tipped up her chin and claimed that soft mouth for his own. Let her tenderness soothe his blemished soul.
But he couldn’t. He had killed. Not her father or mother. But since then, he had taken lives. In dirty ways he never wanted her to know about.
“Do you think you can sleep?” he asked gruffly.
She hesitated. “I…don’t know. But we both need to try. Tomorrow…tomorrow I want to talk to some people in town.”
“Maybe you should heed that warning and leave, Ivy. It’s dangerous for you to ask questions.”
“I can’t leave,” she whispered. “The nightmares follow me everywhere I go.”
God, he understood about nightmares. He might be out of prison, but the sins he’d committed inside would dog him forever. The very reason he slept with the window open. With a knife. With his face toward the door.
Never turn your back or you might be attacked. Or worse…
Ivy reached up and traced a finger along the edge of his scar, and his breath hissed between clenched teeth. Emotions crowded his chest—anger begging for release, but a tenderness tugged at him, too, one he hadn’t felt in so long he thought that side of him had died.
“Does it hurt?” she whispered.
Every damn minute of every day, he wanted to say. But pain had become his friend, reminding him he was alive. Still, her concern touched him, made the pain recede momentarily. The back of his throat burned. Jesus Christ, he felt as if he might actually get choked up. Big ugly tough men like him did not get emotional.
“Ivy?” Worry tinged Matt’s voice. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” She placed her empty coffee mug on the counter, inhaling sharply. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.”
He nodded. “Then I’ll go. Let you get some sleep.”
Ivy nodded, as well, but she didn’t turn around. She wasn’t sure she would sleep. Not with memories of that bloody message and dead chicken taunting her. Not knowing that someone might try to harm her.
And that Matt might be in danger, too.
MATT ORDERED HIMSELF to leave. Being in the same room with Ivy disturbed his equilibrium. Resurrected his protective instincts. Made him want to hold her and erase the fear from her eyes. Made him want other things he couldn’t have. A kiss. A touch. A night with her in his arms.
But he had a mission and nothing would deter him. Especially a woman. Still, Ivy looked so lost he could hardly drag himself away. Traces of guilt and helplessness had echoed in her voice. And fear lingered in her eyes as well as the memory of that gruesome threat.
Restless energy pounding through him, he laid a hand on her shoulder and gently turned her to face him. Her creamy skin looked ashen. “Ivy? Did you remember something else?”
She shook her head. “Not about that night. Just…little things about my mother. The reason she named me Ivy.”
He smiled. “For those deep green eyes of yours.”
“No. Because she wanted me to attend an Ivy League college. She said my eyes were the same color as the ivy.”
His throat tightened. In spite of the fact that she’d frequented Red Row, Lily had loved Ivy. Had Lily been working to save money to help her daughter escape the life she’d been saddled with? She should have found another way, a life that hadn’t been so dangerous.
“But my father called me Poison Ivy,” Ivy whispered, a bleak note in her voice. “He said I was poison to his marriage.”
Anger sent a blade of pain through Matt. “Like I said earlier, Ivy, your father was a bastard.”
She bit down on her lip, and the soft glow from the lamp across the room cast her beautiful face in an angelic glow. Matt wondered what she saw when she looked at him. The scar on his face? The animal he’d become in the pen?
The filth, the fights, the unspeakable acts…
He wished he could will away his past. He ached to kiss her, almost tipped up her chin and claimed that soft mouth for his own. Let her tenderness soothe his blemished soul.
But he couldn’t. He had killed. Not her father or mother. But since then, he had taken lives. In dirty ways he never wanted her to know about.
“Do you think you can sleep?” he asked gruffly.
She hesitated. “I…don’t know. But we both need to try. Tomorrow…tomorrow I want to talk to some people in town.”
“Maybe you should heed that warning and leave, Ivy. It’s dangerous for you to ask questions.”
“I can’t leave,” she whispered. “The nightmares follow me everywhere I go.”
God, he understood about nightmares. He might be out of prison, but the sins he’d committed inside would dog him forever. The very reason he slept with the window open. With a knife. With his face toward the door.
Never turn your back or you might be attacked. Or worse…
Ivy reached up and traced a finger along the edge of his scar, and his breath hissed between clenched teeth. Emotions crowded his chest—anger begging for release, but a tenderness tugged at him, too, one he hadn’t felt in so long he thought that side of him had died.
“Does it hurt?” she whispered.
Every damn minute of every day, he wanted to say. But pain had become his friend, reminding him he was alive. Still, her concern touched him, made the pain recede momentarily. The back of his throat burned. Jesus Christ, he felt as if he might actually get choked up. Big ugly tough men like him did not get emotional.
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