Chris threw up his hands. “There’s no satisfying you guys. First, Alex fights me, then Jess tells me I should break rules, and then you turn around and tell me I shouldn’t. I mean, Jesus.”
“Language, young man,” said Jess. “Matt is right. If you want to make an exception, you’ll need a good reason. Charting your own course isn’t the same as being impetuous. Right now, Alex is just complaining. She could be Lena all over again.”
“Hey,” said Alex. The fact that she was trying to figure out a way to escape didn’t make her any less pissed. She was so not Lena.
“So this is what’s going to happen,” Jess continued. “Christopher, you will take her when you can and if your duties permit. Get to know Alex. If you feel that she can be trusted to come and go on her own, then let her. Tell Peter why. Heavens, if it’s a question of protection, let her prove that she can take care of herself.”
“And how am I supposed to do that?” asked Chris. His pale skin was a patchwork of white and scarlet, and his dark eyes were glittery with anger. “Give her a gun? Let her get in some target practice? Ride with us?”
“Yes,” said Alex. “I’ll bet I can shoot just as well as you guys.”
“For so is the will of God, that with well doing you may put to silence the ignorance of foolish men.” Jess threw Alex a look. “And foolish girls. Until you know what you’re about, Alex, hold your tongue.” To Chris: “You are a very smart boy. Figure out what is right and then do it.”
“Jess, it’s not as easy as that,” said Chris.
“Nonsense. You want to be a man? Start acting like one.”
“Jess,” Kincaid said, “the boy’s doing the best he—”
“I can defend myself,” Chris snapped. That icy edge was more pronounced now, cleaving his shadows in two. Alex felt a squirt of sympathy. She could handle Chris, but she didn’t really want to watch him getting hammered by a woman old enough to be his grandmother.
Jess said, “Chris, you have survived this long by being both very lucky and very smart, but eventually, you must follow your own path, however frightening.”
“I am,” said Chris. His face was ashen. “I am.”
“No, you’re not. Obeying orders just to obey is the mark of a person who has ceased to think. Remember, it is better to suffer for doing what is right than for doing what is wrong. Don’t fool yourself, Christopher. Peace comes with a price.”
What was going on? Alex had the feeling that they—Jess and Chris and even Kincaid—were talking over her head somehow. This was not about Chris’s playing bodyguard, but an argument over a question she hadn’t yet asked. She thought Chris would say something, but his hands fisted, grabbing back whatever had been on the tip of his tongue. Then he stalked out, flinging the kitchen door shut with a resounding clap that made the glass chatter.
“That went well,” said Kincaid.
“Sow the seeds of righteousness,” Jess murmured.
“That what you were doing? Felt like you were ripping the boy a new one.”
“Watch your language, Matt.” She shot Alex a warning glare. “He is not the only young person who has ceded his free will.”
“Wait a minute,” Alex said. “Why are you getting on my case? I want to be free.”
“Freedom has a price, too, girl. For all your bravery, you do not—” She broke off as the kitchen door opened again and Sarah appeared, shaking a salting of snow from her hair.
“What’s wrong with Chris?” Sarah asked. “Is he all right?”
“Never you mind,” said Jess, and then she turned to Alex: “You are an ungrateful and very foolish young woman. While you are here, you will be quiet and follow the rules.”
What, what? Follow the rules? Alex’s shock flashed to anger. “Five seconds ago, you said the rules—”
“Don’t presume to correct me!” Jess cut her off with a vicious swipe of her hand. “You will be quiet, young woman. Stop spouting about things you know nothing about. Is that understood?”
Sarah’s eyes were round as pie plates. Alex was mortified. If the floor had opened up to swallow her, that would’ve been fine. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Excellent.” Jess favored Alex with a frosty glare. “I’m so glad we cleared that up. Now, I’m sure there’s something useful needs doing somewhere.” She swept from the room.
“Wow,” Kincaid said after a moment. “Bet you really could hear a pin drop.”
52
Kincaid waved off Sarah’s offer of more tea. “Thank you, no. I got to get back. Alex, walk with me a second, okay?”
Alex said nothing until they were outside and heading for the front walk. Then she looked up at Kincaid. “What was that all—”
“Hush.” Kincaid put up a warning hand, and then she saw their house guard straightening from his slouch. Kincaid hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “I got her, Greg. You want, there’s hot tea inside. Jess or Sarah’ll give you a cup.”
“How about Tori?” Greg’s breath chugged like a steam engine. He was younger than Alex, maybe fourteen, with a halo of muddy brown curls fringing a watch cap. His cheeks were red as beets from windburn. “She inside?”
“No, but she should be back soon. Sure she’d love to see you.” Kincaid clapped the boy on the shoulder. “Bet she could scrounge up a sandwich or two.”
“Yeah, that’d be good. If you think it’s okay. If you don’t think Chris’ll be back. He looked mad enough to spit nails.”
“Oh, I think Chris is done for the day.”
“Okay.” Greg gestured toward his golden, whose bushy tail and fluffy ruff were chunky with ice and snow. “Daisy needs a little time to defrost, anyway.”
“Then go on in before you catch your death,” Kincaid said. They’d already taken Alex’s horse, Honey, to a three-car garage down the block that had been converted into a stable. Kincaid’s horse was tethered to a tree at the curb, and as he unclipped the lead, he glanced over his shoulder, saw Greg and Daisy disappear into the house, and said to Alex, “You okay?”
“Yeah,” she said. “But that was so embarrassing.”
“That’s what happens when you behave like an ass.”
“Thanks.”
“You’ll get over it.”