“No, I’m fine.” If Retta needed a specific response for the rest of the club, some sort of ethics check or something, that should do it. “I can do this the right way. Without special help.”

Retta’s expression didn’t change. “I guess we’ll see.”

Chapter Twenty-Four
Gabby

Gabby sat at the breakfast bar in her kitchen and read through the paperwork again. She’d grabbed the envelope out of Baines’s house yesterday and had not been able to think of anything since.

Bids. That was the deep dark secret worth hiding. Bids on a job. A big job, sure. The kind that changes lives and expands companies, but boring, basic, job-related bids. Nothing special. Talk about an anticlimactic conclusion.

She didn’t understand the top secret behavior here. Baines was not an innocent actor. He’d done appalling things to secure the life he wanted, and knowing that scared her enough to leave. But this?

The alarm chirped when the front door opened. Before Gabby could get off the stool, she heard the beeps from the code sequence being entered. Liam. Must be. Maybe he could help her understand the bid issue.

“Mom.”

Gabby jerked at the unexpected sound of her daughter’s voice. “Kennedy?”

She spun around in time to see Kennedy blow in, long hair escaping her ponytail and a bag slung over her shoulder. She stopped right before entering the kitchen. Tension pulled around her mouth, and her mood bounced around in that scary slip of space between screaming and crying.

“What are you doing here?” Gabby’s mind refused to focus. “How did you get home?”

“That doesn’t matter.” Kennedy’s voice sounded strained.

“It does to me.” She attended school in New York, more than five hours away. She couldn’t drive. “Answer me. Are you okay?”

“Bus and train.”

“What?” The enormity of the situation stole Gabby’s breath. She grabbed onto the chair she just abandoned to keep from being knocked down by the mental images flashing in her brain. Kennedy traveling alone. Somebody grabbing her. Being vulnerable. Lost and desperate. It took all of Gabby’s control not to yell, but a rabid scream rumbled in her throat, ready to release. “You are supposed to be in school, young lady. You can’t just leave and—”

“You lied to me.”

That stopped Gabby cold. “What are you talking about?”

“Did he know?”

“Who? Are you hurt?” The conversation fragments and accusatory tone punched through Gabby’s confusion. This wasn’t a random teen tantrum. The staccato beat to Kennedy’s voice. The hint of pain as her voice grew louder. No, this attack came from a different place, meaning something terrible careened right for her.