Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The urge to run was strong. Martin stared at the door, willing himself to stand. Justin must have read his intention and went over and locked it before sitting back down. That had been Martin’s last escape route, so now he was stuck. He’d promised to never talk about his mom, and the vow was too fresh to even think of breaking it.

“What about my mom?”

“I know she died.”

Martin blanched. No one who mattered was supposed to know about his birth mother. He’d made a promise to her new husband that he’d never mention his connection to Louisa Coleman or to Louisa’s daughter, Alice.

My little sister.

It was an easy promise to make; anything to keep Alice safe. He’d seen her at the funeral, the same wavy hair as him, a shade lighter, and her eyes hidden behind dark glasses. She’d leaned on her stepdad and cried as he’d held her. It would have been so easy to walk over and talk to Alice, but he hadn’t. He’d been told to leave, by the Senator’s security guards, so he’d left. That was where that part of his life story had ended.

He gripped the table so hard his knuckles whitened, then shook his head mutely. Justin waited a moment, making it obvious he was expecting an answer.

“I won’t talk about my mom.”

“What about your sister?”

“How do you…? Don’t you even mention her. I don’t want to talk about anything to do with her.”

“Does she know what happened back with your dad?”

“I said I won’t talk about her.” Martin tilted his chin, waiting for Justin to demand he go and tell his only living blood relative everything. Like hell, he would do that.

“Did you go to the funeral? Did you even speak to her?”

“You tell me. After all, you’re the one tracking me.”

Justin shook his head. “I just know she died, is all.”

“It is what it is,” Martin said and shrugged for emphasis. He could show the world he didn’t care that his mom had died. She’d been gone from his life a long time; he didn’t have much memory of her. He’d found her though, through her maiden name. She’d married a politician who was aiming high, became the perfect wife, always in the papers fundraising for this, that, or the other. Of course, he’d set up an alert on his phone to track her, just in case of… something.

Then there was Alice, his sister. She had a beauty blog, with a nice sideline in charitable works, and had just graduated with a degree in Art History. They weren’t brother and sister through nurture, but part of his heart would always connect to hers.

Then the men had suggested he leave. Warned him off. Told him in no uncertain terms it was dangerous for him to be there. He’d taken it at the time that somehow he was a danger to his sister, but in hindsight, they’d been saying he’d be in danger if he didn’t go.

He’d left quickly. No point in mourning a mom he didn’t know, or worrying about a sister who might not even have known he was alive.

“I don’t want to be here,” Martin said after the longest pause, with emotion choking him. But I have nowhere else to go, and I need help.

“I know you don’t. Let’s face it, no one wants you here.”

The words cut deep; of course no one wanted him at Crooked Tree, and he could understand why, but Justin had been the only person he thought he wanted to connect with. Even briefly.

“I won’t hurt you and Adam.”

Justin raised an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t get the chance, even if you wanted to.” The menacing words struck a chord. He’d never seen Justin in action, but to know that this man had single-handedly taken down his father and probably the rest of his father’s fellow domestic terrorists meant he had to be good. The group, his father included, had all been trained in survival and hand-to-hand combat to a level surpassing that of a normal civilian—all good soldiers fighting for their version of the perfect white America.

Sam banged and crashed in the kitchen, and Martin winced.

“I don’t want to cause any trouble for you with Sam.”

“You won’t.”

Sam arrived with what looked like breakfast: crispy bacon, pancakes, eggs, hash browns. And this time he placed the plates dramatically on the table. “You look ill,” Sam said.

“I’m not ill?—”

“Eat.”

“Thank you,” Martin managed and picked up the gleaming silverware as Sam stalked back to his kitchen. It was midnight now, and he wasn’t about to turn down a free meal.

Justin didn’t begin to eat, only stared at him as if he could see inside Martin’s soul. Justin had a hardness about him that was terrifying, but what did Martin expect? After all, he was responsible for making Justin the man he was today. He’d been part of the group who’d hurt him and Adam.

“Do you sleep?” he asked.

“As well as I can.” Sometimes the nightmares pull me into a terror I don’t want to recall, but mostly I can sleep.

“Nightmares?”

“Some.”

“Finish your food, and I’ll find you a bed somewhere.”

Martin blinked at Justin, not sure he’d heard right. “I don’t need a bed. Once you answer my question about what stopped you killing me, then I told you I’m heading south. Thank Sam for the coffee and food, but I need to find somewhere else to stay. I never intended to stay.”

Justin took Martin’s hand, his hold firm. “I can make you stay, Martin.”

Fear gripped Martin, “Are you threatening me?”

Of course he’s threatening me. He hates me after what I did to him. This is some kind of revenge—as twisted as what hurt him and Adam. He probably had a gun, as he had when he came to the cafe three years ago

“No,” Justin said without hesitation. “I’m saying Crooked Tree is a safe place for you to stop for a while and to take a breath. If you want to leave, then you can go. I won’t stop you. And one day soon I might explain why I didn’t kill you. Just not now.”

All the fire left Martin instantly, and he sat back in his chair as if his strings had been cut.

“Really?”

Justin huffed a laugh and focused on the coffee mug, drawing his finger around the rim. “There’s no way to rationalize the horrors we saw or what your father and his friends did. Believe me, I tried. But there is a life beyond those ghosts, and you need to rest somewhere, Martin. Just for a while, until Adam comes back, maybe Crooked Tree might just be the right place for you to stop.”