“This?” Jeremiah whispered, holding up a long screw.

“That’s it. Good eye, bud.” With the casual compliment, deVries turned back to the job, not apparently noticing the way Jeremiah’s entire face lit as if the sun had come out from behind clouds.

But only someone who’d seen the Dom in a scene would realize he missed nothing. Although a muscle had tightened in his cheek, he kept working, asking Jeremiah for different items, being careful to describe them well enough no mistakes could be made.

Finally he closed the door and glanced at Jeremiah. “Why don’t you check it out? See if it works.” He tapped the latch. “Turn that.”

Jeremiah obeyed.

“Can you get the door open now?” DeVries kept an eye on him as he put the tools away.

Jeremiah turned the doorknob and tugged. “Hunh-uh.”

“Good.” DeVries stood, set a light hand on the skinny shoulder. “Couldn’t have done it so quickly without you, bud. You’re a great assistant.”

Jeremiah’s expression showed wonder and dawning pride.

With a choked sob, Lindsey helped the little girl off her lap, keeping her face turned away, blinking hard. After a swallow, her voice came out fairly even. “Where to now, Mr. deVries?”

“I’d like a tour of the windows, Miss Adair,” he said politely. Why did she doubt his politeness would linger once away from the observers? He ruffled Jeremiah’s hair. “I’ll be back in a couple of days, bud. If you’re free, I could use your help.”

“Okay,” Jeremiah whispered. He was vibrating with urgency until they left the kitchen. His footsteps charged in the opposite direction, toward the back room where his mother was doing laundry. Even then, his voice barely rose. “Mooom, guess what?” Children with fathers like his learned to stay quiet.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” DeVries’s jaw was tight, his eyes cold and hard.

“What?”

“Be a downright pleasure to have a chat with whatever bastard knocked the kid around.”

She couldn’t hide her smile or the sudden wetness in her eyes.

He ran a gentle finger down her cheek. “You got a big heart, Tex.”

Apparently, so did he.

Before they reached the upstairs bedroom, a staff member appeared. “Lindsey, Mrs. Abernathy sent me to show Mr. deVries around.”

“Good timing. Edna’s probably ready for me.” With a feeling of relief—and reluctance—Lindsey nodded at deVries.

His face showed nothing; however, his words—“See you later, Tex”—set her nerves to dancing.

In the small meeting room, Edna was looking through the papers on how to write a résumé and to interview. Underweight, short hair graying, curling into herself in a slouch as if she didn’t want to be noticed. The fading bruises on her face said why.

“All finished?” Lindsey asked as she sat.

Edna nodded.

Lindsey glanced over the application. Her work experience was years in the past—waitress and a hotel maid. Physical condition was good, or would be in another week. Spelling adequate. Penmanship clear. The next page was blank. “Why didn’t you fill out the vocational interest form?”

“What’s the point?”

Lindsey understood her meaning. Edna was forty-nine. Her children were raised. Laid off from work, the husband spent his days drinking and taking his frustrations out on his wife. She’d probably endured his abuse to keep their kids fed and housed, but now…

“Several points, actually,” Lindsey answered. “First, you’re liable to live to be ninety, right?”

Edna’s eyes widened. “I… Maybe. My mother is still alive.”

“So, working as a waitress will get tiresome. And when you retire, social security might not cover all your expenses.” Lindsey waggled her eyebrows. “With four children, you’re undoubtedly going to have grandchildren you’ll want to gift with loud, obnoxious toys, right?”

Edna actually smiled. Even abuse didn’t extinguish a sense of humor. Then she frowned. “You’re saying money will always be a problem?”

“If you don’t think ahead. The good news is Stella’s is very keen on their clients moving past minimum-wage jobs. They hold classes at night and weekends, and if there’s something you want to learn they don’t offer, there’s usually a way to get it.” She leaned forward and took Edna’s hands. “You’re making a big change already, yet while you’re at it, why don’t you shoot for the top?”

“I…” Edna’s gaze dropped to the papers.

“Besides”—Lindsey squeezed the cold fingers—“your ex can’t even keep a shit-labor job. Wouldn’t it be cool to have a classy one he couldn’t dream of matching?”

Edna’s shoulders straightened, her head lifted, and her expression changed to one of resolve. “You’re right.” Her lips curved. “And you are a sneaky young woman.”

Wasn’t it odd the entire room felt brighter? “That’s me. So fill out—” Lindsey glanced at her watch. “No, you can’t. Your group session starts in a few minutes. Can you complete this form later? We’ll talk about it next week.” She put the already completed papers into her leather satchel.

Determination had lit the older woman’s expression. “I can do that.”

Lindsey felt her eyes heat, and she wrapped an arm around Edna’s shoulders in a brief squeeze. “You’re going to do great,” she whispered.

In the hallway, deVries was leaning against the wall, bag over one shoulder. He nodded at Edna and stepped in front of Lindsey. “You all done here?”

“Uh…” Could she make up a reason to have to stay? Except every lie she told made her feel as if she were smearing dirt on her skin. She felt filthy enough already. “Guess so.”

“Good.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “I could hear you through the door. You’re damned good at talking to people, baby.”

She blinked up at him. A compliment from the Enforcer. “Um. Thanks.”

“Could have used you in interrogations.”

Seriously? Her stare of disbelief made a dimple appear in his cheek. Her attempt to retreat didn’t work. “So what do you want?”

“I saw a grill on your back patio. Let’s swing by the store, pick up some steak, and I’ll cook while you make the rest of the shit.”

She stopped. “Are you inviting yourself over to my place for supper?”

“That would be an affirmative, pet.” He smiled down at her. “I rescued you and helped you move. Seems you owe me. Again.”

“Really.” Her stomach twisted as she remembered the first time she’d owed him…how it had ended. He’d explained, but if he turned cold again, how could she bear it? “So, am I going to get another ‘debt paid’ from you afterward?”

“That really bothered you?” He guided her out the front door.

“Well, yes.” She slapped a hand on his chest and shoved him back. “You also said you didn’t like me. I know guys make lo—uh, fuck—anyone. All the same, being intimate with someone you hate is just plain downright icky.”

“Icky.” His lips quirked. “I didn’t hate you when I fucked you. It wasn’t until the next morning I decided you were a mercenary bitch.”

She heard Victor’s voice. “Hell, you married me for my money.” The memory was an unexpected blow. With an effort, she kept it from her face and pushed the sickness away. In its place, she plastered on a scowl and used it on deVries. “You really do enjoy pissing me off, don’t you?”

“Fuck yeah.” The way his dimple came and went made her knees weak.

“So you really did like me that night?” Her question came out in a whisper.

He pushed her hand off his chest and yanked her forward into a full frontal. “You mean when my cock was buried in your pussy, or when I took your ass?” His head lowered, and his words whispered against her lips. “Or licked you until you screamed?”

Her mouth went dry, and the sound she made was simply needy.

“Oh, I liked you.” He planted a kiss on her lips before giving her a level stare. “Baby, I wouldn’t have fucked you otherwise.”

The tornado of relief flattened her defenses and swirled them away.

As she stared up into his sage-colored eyes, she knew she was screwed every way from Sunday.

***

DeVries brought the sizzling steaks from the grill to the patio. While he’d been cooking, Lindsey had covered the table with a bright yellow cloth and set out colorful stoneware dishes. He glanced at her. “I didn’t see these in the dump.”

“No. They were with all my stuff in storage.” She looked around. “It’s nice to have everything back.”

Not that she had much, he thought, as he rummaged through the cupboard for steak sauce. “Got a lot of macaroni and cheese, babe.”

Rather than whining about being broke, she grinned. “Hey, I love macaroni and cheese. It’s comfort food.”

“Mmmhmm.” Sure it was—maybe once a month, not every day. Yet, she’d actually wanted to split the cost of the groceries earlier. Jesus.

She took a seat at the table and handed him one of the beers he’d bought.

“You gonna be okay in the duplex?” He dropped down into the chair across from her. Taking a sip of the beer, he watched as she served him a green salad, a mound of cheesy potatoes, and one of the steaks. Graceful and smooth. Unlike him, she’d probably learned table manners from birth, rather than years later in a foster home.

“It’s great.” She gave him a rueful smile. “I guess I should thank you for telling Xavier about the mess I was in.”

“Not a problem. Speaking of which…” He toed off his boot and unstrapped the leather sheath from his calf. “If you’re going to carry a knife, wear one that will do some damage.”

“But…”

He set it on the table. “Figured this might be a good size for you. One on your belt would be better—this is hard to reach in a hurry—but with the people you’re around, you probably don’t want to terrify them.”