“So, why did you do it? You had everything to lose. Why risk it?”
I stare into his face, weighing my options. Tell the truth or the truth that everyone believes.
I know he won’t believe me, but I decide to go with the truth.
“I didn’t risk anything. I loved that job. I didn’t steal from those people. What I did do was make a huge error by trusting someone.”
His expression hasn’t changed. It’s blank and unreadable, like always.
I wait, expecting him to tell me that he doesn’t believe me.
So, I’m surprised when he says, “Trusting whom?”
“A man.” I let out a bitter laugh. “Well, I wouldn’t call him a man because a man wouldn’t do what he did to me.” I wrap my hands around the cup again, needing its warmth. I stare down into the coffee as I continue to talk, “My boyfriend, Jason—well, now, ex-boyfriend. We’d been together for about four months. He seemed like a good guy. A decent guy. I wasn’t so keen on his family…especially his brother. I’d heard things about them…not so great things…but Jason was good to me. I’d never had someone be good to me before. And he was good with Jesse. So, I trusted him. And he stabbed me in the back. I don’t know for sure exactly how it happened…but I know I went to prison because of Jason and, if I’m guessing correctly, his brother, Damien.”
I see Kas’s body stiffen, and I feel a tension rise in the air, like static electricity covering my skin.
I lift my eyes to his, and I’m startled by the anger I see in them.
I’ve seen Kas angry, but this…this is a whole new level of anger that I’ve never seen before.
I flinch inside, unsure of whether that anger is directed at me or not.
I wonder if I should keep talking, but I figure I can’t make this any worse. I need this job, so I take a deep breath and continue on, “The night of the robbery, Jason was staying at my place. Jesse was staying the night at his friend’s house. I only ever let Jason stay over when Jesse was staying out.” I don’t know why I tell Kas that, but it feels important to me that he knows that I always put Jesse first.
“I think, while I was sleeping, that Jason gave my access key to Damien. You know, I said I’d heard things about him. Well, those things were that Damien was trouble, into bad shit—carjacking, robbery, and the like. I think he used my access key, let himself in, somehow disconnected the CCTV inside the shop, and robbed it.
“Then, he brought my key card back to Jason. He put it back in my bag. Damien also gave him a piece of the stolen jewelry, which Jason so conveniently planted in my apartment. And, when the police came searching my place, there it was.
“Jason also told the police that he wasn’t with me at all that night. That he spent the night playing cards with his brother and friends and hadn’t seen me. I couldn’t prove otherwise. I had no witnesses to prove he’d been with me all night, so I was screwed. Basically, I was set up.
“The police charged me with theft. I was put in prison until my trial. I was given a court-appointed lawyer because I had no money to pay for my own, and I’m pretty sure my lawyer had only just gotten his law degree. I didn’t stand a chance. I was found guilty and sent to prison for three years. I served eighteen months and was released on parole. And here I am.
“I lost everything…Jesse…my job, my home…my freedom…because of him.”
I lift my eyes back to Kas, not really sure what to expect.
But there’s nothing. His expression is blank, his eyes devoid of any emotion.
Disappointment slams into me.
That disappointment quickly turns to panic when he stands abruptly. My fearful eyes follow him up.
“Get your things,” he tells me. “I’ll take you home.”
I rise slowly, my heart banging against my rib cage. “Mr. Matis…please…I—”
“You still have your job, Daisy.” He walks past me, heading for the door. “And you can call me Kas from now on.”
His words from the first day I met him come back to me. “My friends call me Kas.”
I guess he believes me.
I’m surprised at how much that matters to me. How much his opinion actually counts. To know that me just saying the words once to him was enough when a jury full of people didn’t believe me.
I blink back the tears threatening me and swallow back the Texas-sized lump in my throat. Then, I grab my shoes and bag and quickly follow after him.
Sixteen
Kas.
I step off the platform and onto the walkway, exiting the station, surprised to see his car sitting there.
Is he waiting on me?
Surely not.
Unsure as to why he’s here, I make my way down the ramp.
Should I go over to his car or just pretend I haven’t seen him?
I don’t want to go over if he’s waiting here for someone else, and then I’ll have to walk away…looking like a loser.
And why is this such a big decision?
For God’s sake, Daisy, just go over and say hello. Then, walk away if he doesn’t offer you a ride—which, more than likely, he won’t.
I step off the walkway and onto the street. His car is parked right in front of me.
Our eyes meet through the passenger window.
I ignore the way my heart rate spikes from having his eyes on mine.
He rolls down the passenger window. I walk toward his car.
“Daisy,” he says my name low.
That’s it. He says my name, and a shiver of delight runs through me—which is ridiculous.