Maddie was the one part of her life, the one good thing she had done that she was proud of. She didn’t cry or scream about the constant movement or lack of a solid routine. Over the past seventeen months of her life, they’d traveled the country, forced to move anytime her ex got close. Like at the last place they lived in Houston. Freya overheard Ian questioning the manager about her whereabouts at the garden shop, where she’d been picking up shifts to get by.
She’d walked out of the garden shop before he spotted her without her pay for that day. Then she drove back to the motel they were staying at and picked Maddie up from the grandmother who lived across the street and watched her in exchange for Freya’s housecleaning services. They’d been on the road within thirty minutes. She’d driven north until they reached Denver. And she prayed this stop would be the one place he wouldn’t find them. Because if he found them, she was a dead woman, and there would be no one to protect Maddie.
She cleaned the windows and floors in the living room, music room, and dining room. Then scrubbed the kitchen, entertaining her daughter while she did.
There was one more room to clean. Then they could head back to the motel, where she hoped she could avoid the landlord. Today’s job would not ensure she caught up on rent. Hence needing to avoid the skeevy landlord who had insinuated he wouldn’t be above taking money off what she owed—if she slept with the disgusting prick.
No, thank you. She might not have a lot, but she had her pride. And whoring herself out, even to keep a roof over their heads, was a line in the sand she couldn’t cross. It would break her. Decimate the last slivers of her soul that still believed there was good in this world.
Freya carted the playpen into the home office so she could mop the kitchen floor. When that was accomplished, she returned to the office. It was richly appointed, with heavy wooden furniture in a deep mahogany and black leather seating. There were scores of bookshelves loaded with books, a mixture of grocery store paperbacks, and what might be first editions locked behind glass enclosures.
Because she was getting restless from being in the playpen all day, Maddie got to help her dust. She made it a game the two of them were playing. Maddie’s laughter touched Freya’s heart. She might not have any savings to speak of or know how she was going to afford the rent, but if her kid could laugh like that with those deep belly laughs, she must be doing something right.
When the shelves were dusted, she settled Maddie back in the playpen with dried peach slices and crackers. She wished she could afford real fruit, but it was so dang expensive. In the weeks when she was flush, she picked up canned fruit. Her little girl loved peaches, pineapple, bananas, and apple slices.
There were other fruits like watermelon, oranges, and kiwi she wanted to introduce to her palate.
She sighed dejectedly with the weight of the world on her shoulders. One day, she would have the funds to splurge on extras like that for Maddie. Freya just had to keep putting one foot in front of the other until then.
With a microfiber cloth in hand, she wiped down the desk. It was easier cleaning the house when the owner wasn’t home. It was better when they weren’t around. And she was supremely thankful for their absence because they might put up a stink that she had her daughter with her. Her boss didn’t mind as long as she accomplished the job in a timely fashion.
But she didn’t know anyone she trusted enough to leave Maddie with in this city. Daycare was so far out of her meager budget, it was the dark side of the moon as far as she was concerned. Having Maddie with her made her job more tedious, but at least this way she could keep an eye on her. And on the plus side, if they had to evacuate the area fast, all she had to do was get in the van, pick her stuff up from the motel, and go.
As she wiped down the desk with furniture polish, she spied a money clip stuffed with hundred-dollar bills beside the high-tech computer monitor.
Jesus Christ! There had to be at least two thousand dollars there. She couldn’t believe the owner had just casually left that much cash lying around.
She stared at the stack of cash. Hunger pangs tore at her empty belly. A few hundred would help her out of a tight situation. Loathing suffused her. Because she was actually contemplating taking money from a customer.
She didn’t want to, but their survival was on the line. And these people had so much. Freya was about to lose the roof over their heads. Plus, she needed gas, diapers, and food for her child.
Was she really considering this? Committing theft and stealing money from someone? If she did, she wouldn’t take it all. She wasn’t greedy. Just desperate to feed her kid and keep a roof over their heads.
God, how was this her life? She couldn’t believe she’d gotten to such a low point that she was contemplating theft.
But what choice did she have?
If they wound up at a homeless shelter, he would find them. If she didn’t continually move them around, he would find them. And while he’d not had an amber alert issued for their daughter, she knew he was watching police databases. If she got picked up for loitering and sleeping in the minivan with Maddie, he’d find them.
The choice before her was simple. A few hundred would keep the wolf from their door a while longer. And, if she was smart and budgeted the extra cash, this money could help them make it to the next place to hide from Ian. Maybe they’d head into the mountains. Find work and an apartment in a small town. A few hundred could get them as far away from here as California or Oregon.
As she cleaned, she continued debating with herself while monitoring Maddie. It was her cheeky grin that sealed Freya’s decision.
She needed diapers and food for Maddie. Today’s job wouldn’t be enough to make rent. She couldn’t allow her child to sleep in their van tonight, or any night.
She would only take what she needed. There was so much money in the clip she bet the homeowner wouldn’t even miss the few hundred she would take.
With her heart galloping faster than the speed of sound, she glanced at the door. It felt like she had thousands of eyes watching her, judging her, ready to call her out. She swallowed down any revulsion she felt, because she didn’t have any choices. This was the choice. Then she filched the cash, peeling off three hundred-dollar bills from the stack. It was tempting to take the whole thing and simply run. Grab their belongings at the motel and head off. But she wouldn’t be selfish. This was enough to get her past the next week with rent, food, and diapers. After that, she would figure it out like she always did. She placed the money clip back on the desk and folded the cash to fit in her jeans pocket.
“So. Do you want to call the police or should I, lass?” a deep male voice with a hint of an accent asked behind her.
Oh god no!
She’d been caught stealing. The one time she did something outside the law, she got caught. Freya whipped around and sucked in a panicked breath.
And she was confronted with the most gorgeous man she’d ever encountered.
Mr. Campbell was tall, a few inches above six feet, with some of the broadest shoulders she’d ever seen. They stretched his ivory linen button-up dress shirt obscenely. The shirt looked like it had been spray painted on over his muscles. The ivory shirt contrasted sharply with his thick, inky hair that fell to his shoulders in soft, tousled waves. He had a striking face with thick black brows framing deep-set cobalt eyes that were currently glowering menacingly at her. A proud Norman nose bisected his face and sat above a pair of the most perfectly formed, lush male lips. And his sexy, kissable mouth was shrouded by his close-cropped black beard that did nothing to hide a jawline that was all man and added to his striking physique. He was the poster boy for tall, dark, and hunky. He was all hard angles and drop-dead gorgeous.