Renee Ryan Read Online Free PDF Page B

knew countless men who’d walked away from far less responsibility than a child. At one point in his life, Hunter had been one of them.
    That was then. This was now.
    A swell of emotion spread through him, seeping into the darkest corners of his soul. After all he’d lost, dare he hope for this new beginning, this second chance to get it right?
    He had to try, had to go at this logically, rationally. Anything was possible with God. Or as his mother was fond of saying: We can’t out-sin the Lord’s grace, or His forgiveness.
    A good reminder.
    Hunter needed to be alone, to think, to plan, to work through the particulars of what came next. “I’ll call at Charity House first thing in the morning.”
    “Better make it after school,” she said. “Say, four o’clock?”
    “Good enough.”
    He turned to go.
    “Hunter, wait.”
    He stopped, but didn’t pivot back around.
    “I think it best we don’t tell Sarah who you are, at least not at first.”
    It was a good idea, a wise suggestion, all things considered. However, a part of him rebelled. He’d spent the past two years being told when to wake, when to work, when to eat. He’d had enough. “I’ll make that decision when I see the child for myself.”
    “Hunter, please.” She hurried around him. “You can’t just show up out of the blue, claim a daughter you never knew you had and then make promises you can’t be sure to keep.”
    He bristled at her unwarranted accusation. Hunter never made promises he couldn’t keep. Except once. Two people had ended up dead, one an innocent, one a very bad man.
    Beneath his calm exterior, Hunter burned with remembered rage.
    This time would be different, he told himself. Because he was different.
    No more death, no more loss, no more bad decisions. “I didn’t say anything about making promises.”
    “But—”
    “One step at a time, Annabeth.” He flexed his fingers, stopped short of making a fist. “We’ll take this one step at a time.”
    “One step at a time.” She repeated his words through tight lips. “Yes, that sounds like a good plan.”
    He moved a fraction closer, inexplicably drawn to her despite the tension flowing between them.
    Chin high, she held her ground. For three long seconds. Then, she scrambled backward. One step. Two.
    Hunter had seen that same look in many gazes through the years, some he’d deliberately cultivated. Annabeth thought him a threat.
    She was right.
    If Sarah was his daughter, no one—not even her devoted aunt—would keep him from claiming her as his own.
    * * *
    Heart in her throat, pulse beating wildly through her veins, Annabeth watched Hunter disappear around the corner of her mother’s brothel. Nothing had prepared her for her first encounter with the man after all these years. She’d expected to meet a hardened criminal, an outlaw who’d earned his place in prison.
    Annabeth had been wrong.
    Ice-cold dread shivered across her skin. Hunter Mitchell was a man full of remorse. And hope. Yes, she’d seen the hope in him. It was that particular emotion that made her the most troubled. Ruthless and cruel, she could handle.
    But a man with a desire to do the right thing?
    How did she fight against that?
    Was she supposed to even try?
    She shivered, and not merely because Hunter could take Sarah away from her. In the depth of his eyes Annabeth had seen an aching loneliness that had called to her, one human to another, two lost souls searching for their place in a world that had dealt them cruel blows.
    Now she was being fanciful.
    Annabeth was never fanciful. She was practical, down to the bone. In that, at least, she was her mother’s daughter.
    Speaking of Mattie...
    Annabeth spun on her heel. Retracing her steps, she paced through the darkened corridors of the brothel, back into Mattie’s private suite of rooms. She drew in a soothing pull of air and then shut the door behind her with a controlled snap.
    One more calming breath and Annabeth turned to face her