Mind Games - Page 223

“No, it’s about me. About the possibility of that life, one I want, of being free to have it. How can I have it this way?”

She took a moment, then said what had lurked in her mind for years.

“What if I have children? I want children. What if I have a daughter? Do I pass this to her, and does he hound her? How would I protect her from him? He’s young, he could live for decades yet. How could I even think about having a daughter he’d torment?

“Wouldn’t you risk it, Grammie? Wouldn’t you risk anything to protect a child you want so much?”

Lucy covered her mouth with her hand, then dropped it. “Yes. Yes, I would.”

“Grammie.”

“Rem. Do you think if I could’ve saved your mama and daddy, I wouldn’t have fought that bastard with my bare hands? If you could’ve spared Thea from what she’d dealt with all these years, wouldn’t you? It’s who we are.”

She reached across the table for Thea’s hand. “I don’t want you to do this, but I understand why you would.”

“I want a clearer picture. A hell of a lot clearer. Or I swear I’ll find a way to stop you.”

He couldn’t, she thought, but she had to appreciate a brother who’d try.

“I’ve built a game. It’s rudimentary, as it has to form as we go. I can’t anticipate his every move or choice. We played before, and I hurt him. I scared him, and, hurt and scared, he backed off for some time. But if I win—when I win this,” she corrected, “he won’t come back from it.”

“That’s not a clear picture. And it doesn’t explain why you have to go see him.”

“Because, Rem, I’ll be in charge. I’m free to walk out at any time. He isn’t. And he knows it. Because he does, that weighs on my side of the scale.

“I put him there. And I know him. I know his mind much better than he knows mine. Being there shows I’m not afraid of him, and he wants me to be. Needs me to be, but I’m not. He’ll be afraid of me before it’s done. I have the advantage.”

She shook back her hair. “I haven’t designed a game with a level playing field. I’ll have considerable advantage.”

“Maybe I like the sound of that part. Spell it out.”

“It’s his life. His wasted, miserable life.”

* * *

They’d get behind her. That’s what they did for each other, Thea knew. And they’d worry. Family did plenty of that, but she’d have them with her in mind and heart and spirit.

Another advantage, perhaps the most vital. And one Ray Riggs would never match.

When she turned onto the lane, Bunk began to rumble and wag at the idea of another visit. She hadn’t intended to stop now, when Ty would likely be working.

More of an excuse than a reason, she admitted. The idea of going over it all again with someone who loved her exhausted her.

But she had a game plan, and she’d promised to tell him when she did.

So she stopped, and told herself if she heard music, she’d get back in the car and wait until later.

The minute she stepped out of the car, even before Bunk leaped out behind her, she heard it.

The long, loud, defiant guitar riff blasted against the windows of the little house, shot out into the air, and vibrated straight into her body.

What followed was charged, as electric as the instrument he played, and as fast as lightning.

Unable to resist, she followed that rage of sound around to the back of the house.

She saw him through the window, and lost her breath.

He stood outside his studio, worn jeans slung low, a flannel shirt loose and open over a gray tee. And fingers flying over a slick black guitar.