Mind Games - Page 204

“Of course. You … must’ve been frantic.”

“That’s a word for it. I’d like to talk to you if you have a minute.”

“Yes, sure. Come in. Stay out for a while, Bunk.” She closed the door. “Do you want to sit down?”

“No.” He’d make this quick, and he’d make this clean. “I know Bray told you why he was upset.”

“Yes. I understand why you’re leaving, but I … I wish you wouldn’t because of what you think of me. You told me to stay away, and I have. I will.”

“I need the key back, and I want you to delete any pictures you took of Braydon off your phone.”

She just stared at him, then something flashed in her eyes as she turned, gestured. He followed her into her studio where she snatched a framed photo of Bray and Bunk from her workstation.

“Here, take it. I printed out one of my grandmother and Bray and gave it to her. I’ll get it back.”

Her movements fast and fluid, she opened a closet. “I’ve done a little Christmas shopping.” Turning back, she pushed another framed photo at him. One of Bray coming down the slide and Ty standing at the base, grinning.

“I was going to give this to you then, so take it now. Those are the only ones I printed out.”

She grabbed her phone from the workstation charger, swiped up her photo roll, then shoved it at him.

“Delete away. Hey, while you’re at it, go ahead and search through, see if you find where I’ve communicated with whoever-the-fuck for selling them. That’s what you think of me.”

She’d ditched the wary, he noted, and now stood in full righteous fury mode.

“I’m not going through your phone. I’m asking you to delete the photos.”

“No. Do it yourself. After, you can go through my computer—not that one, that’s strictly work-related and you’re not touching it. But my others, my tablets—I have two. And you can search the goddamn house for the key I don’t have because I gave it to your father after the funeral.

“If you think you have to protect that child from me, you’re a complete dick.”

When she stalked out, he put her phone down and followed her back to the living room.

“I lock the house, Thea. I don’t leave the house unlocked, ever. I’m going to change the locks, but I want that key. Those books, that box, they weren’t there when you were. That damn truck wasn’t in there the last time you were in the house with us. It’s just that simple.”

“No, it’s not. You actually think I’ve snuck around inside your house, that I’d sell pictures of your son.” Fury burning, she lifted a hand. “Oh, hey, maybe I put a camera in your bedroom—you better check. I could sell sex videos because I’m so obviously someone who craves the spotlight, and money, let’s not forget the money.”

She threw out her arms, circled like a cat in a cage.

“I’ve gotta rake that in even though I inherited a substantial trust fund when my parents were murdered, and I make a damn good living. I make it with my own time, effort, and talent, but I need to cash in on you and your little boy, because, wow, I just can’t get enough.”

Tears flowed now, but hot ones as she stood rubbing her right thumb under her left.

“You can get out now. You can stay away from me. I don’t want someone in my life who’d think so low of me. I love Bray, but you can’t see that? I love you, but that doesn’t matter?”

Spinning around to pace, she pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. “Damn it, damn it, damn it! I’m not wasting tears on you. I’ll get over you. You’re making it easy. Change the locks, put up a goddamn force field, run back to Philadelphia, or go to hell. I haven’t done anything to deserve being treated like a thief, like a user, and I don’t need your brand of cynicism in my life.”

“You’re not going to turn this around on me.” Every bit as enraged as she now, he snapped back. “You didn’t come in the house, use a key? How the hell did you know where to find that fucking truck? What, are you psychic?”

She gave him a long, cool look. “It’s a gift that runs through the women in my family.”

He’d have laughed if it hadn’t been so damn insulting.

“Are you serious? For Christ’s sake. So you just”—he flicked his free hand at his head—“poof, used your internal crystal ball to find freaking Grave Digger in a box of freaking books? All I want is the goddamn key, Thea.”

“I don’t have a key to your house. I don’t have a secret way into your house. I’ve never stepped foot in your house since you moved in without an invitation. You should leave now, because I’m done being insulted.”

“You’re insulted? That’s rich. You’re psychic, the psychic finder of kids’ toys? Great, prove it. What number am I thinking of?”