Forgiving Lies (11 page)

“Damn it, Rachel. I’m not kidding! I want to know what the fuck happened to you; you’re done throwing up your damn shield with me!”
Calm down, man. Calm the hell down. You’re going to scare her and she’s going to run rather than talk to you.
“Rachel.” I lowered my voice and spoke softly. “Get your ass on the couch. Now.”

Without a word, she made her way back into the living room and sat on the far corner of the main couch, exactly where she’d been when I walked in earlier. Taking another deep breath, I forced myself to sit on the opposite side when all I wanted to do was pace or pull her into my arms. I waited until I’d fully calmed down before saying anything. She still had yet to look at me since she’d sat down, and I decided this was the day I’d throw out that shield for good. I never wanted her to use it around me again.

Praying to God that Mason and I were wrong about this, I started off how I would with anyone else I was questioning. Like I knew exactly what they were hiding. “Tell me who the guy is who did this to you.”

Her head snapped up and her eyes widened before she could look away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her body started shaking again and she pulled her knees up to her chest like earlier.

Oh fuck. No, Rach . . . God, no.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I kept going. “When did it happen?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she repeated.

“What’s his name?”

“Whose?”

“Do you know him, or was it a stranger?”

She paused before answering. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Kash.”

“You know him. Does Candice know about this?”

“Why are you doing this?” she whispered.

God, baby, trust me, I don’t want to be.
“When did it happen?”

We continued to go in circles as I asked the same questions over and over, and then asked somewhat different variations of the same questions, every now and then throwing in an assumption, and after almost ten minutes, the tears started falling down her face. It killed me, but I couldn’t stop. I kept my voice monotone and forced myself to stay in my spot on the couch as her body tried hopelessly to curl in on itself while it vibrated almost forcefully. When I finally had her on the edge, I softened my voice and asked the question I didn’t want to know the answer to but needed to.

“When were you raped, Rachel?”

“I wasn’t raped!” she yelled, and her hands flew up to her face as a sob left her. Her shoulders began shaking harder with the sobs that were now coming, and I ground my jaw as I waited for her. “He didn’t—he wasn’t able to finish—Candice came back!” she cried. “He tried . . . he started to, but she came back. I tried to get him off me! He was choking me, I couldn’t breathe.”

“So, Candice knows?”

Her head shook furiously back and forth. “I tried—tried to tell her. She wouldn’t listen, and she won’t believe me. She . . .
everyone
thinks he can do no wrong. But he’s crazy, Logan.” She looked at me, her tear-streaked face breaking my heart as she willed me to understand. “He told me no one would believe me, he said I was his and he wouldn’t let anyone touch me. H-he’s crazy, I swear!”

“What’s his name?” She shook her head again and I wanted to shake her. “I need to know his name, Rach. What’s his name?”

“He works at the school. I have to see him every day because of my major. Candice too. But no one will believe you. Everyone loves him.”

This sick fuck is a professor?
“Name. What’s his name?” When she didn’t respond, I went back to my earlier questions. “Did this happen last night?”

She jerked back and stared at me. “N-no! I haven’t seen him since that night. It was the week before school let out.”

“This morning?”

“I had another nightmare about him. He showed up at the door. This time—” She broke off on a sob. “No one was there to stop him before he finished this time.”

Rachel.
I wanted nothing more than to hold her, but with how she’d flinched away from us earlier, that would have been anything but helpful. My heart continued to break as she mumbled, “It felt so real,” over and over again.

Giving her a second, I stood up and walked into my room, threw a pair of sweatpants over my shorts, and shrugged into a sweatshirt. God, how was she shivering? I was already sweating with this on. But if I couldn’t comfort her in the way I wanted to, I was going to do it in the only other way I knew how. I’d just be there for her. When I walked back through the living room, her sobs had quieted, but she was still in a ball. Heading into the kitchen, I grabbed two bottled waters, a spoon, and the pint of Ben and Jerry’s she always made sure I had in the freezer. I put everything on the coffee table, grabbed the remote, and searched the DVR until I found
Bridesmaids
. I didn’t give a shit about the two hundred dollars or breakfasts I would owe her for this.

Sitting down next to her this time, I picked up the water and ice cream, balanced them on my legs, and turned the volume up. When the movie started, she brought her red face up and glanced at the TV with a furrowed brow before looking over at me. Her eyebrows shot straight up when she saw me.

“What are you wearing?” Her voice was hoarse from crying and I handed her the bottle of water.

“Well, you came over in sweats. I figured I missed the memo or something and had to get in on the party.”

She looked at the TV and back to me, and a small smile cracked when she took the ice cream and spoon from me.

I’d pushed her enough today. I hated knowing what I knew and vowed to one day find out who this guy was. Hopefully now that she knew she could talk to me, she’d open up more when she was ready. But anything more today would be too much. So I settled into the couch and pretended to watch the movie instead of her every move. After a while, she handed me back the half-empty container and leaned against my shoulder. My arm automatically went around her and I pulled her close to my side.

“Thank you, Kash,” she whispered a couple minutes later.

“Anything for you, Rach. I’m here whenever you need to talk.” Pressing my lips to her forehead, I kept them there as I said, “And I will always protect you.”

We were still sitting there watching the movie when Mason came back from his run. He nodded at us, and when he came back out of his room after a shower, he was dressed in sweats as well. He grabbed the melting ice cream and tried to squeeze himself onto the couch on the other side of Rachel.

She laughed and curled closer into my side. “You guys are the best.”

“You think we’re going to let you veg on the couch alone?” Mason said, scoffing. “Sweetheart, you obviously don’t know us that well. I mean, it’s gonna be a hundred degrees today. How else would I spend the day than in sweats?”

Rachel kicked at his leg and he squeezed her knee. After a few minutes of watching the movie, Mason caught my gaze over Rachel’s head. He quickly looked down at her and raised an eyebrow, the question clear in his eyes. I nodded once and the color drained from his face. He swallowed hard and grabbed one of Rachel’s hands. She laughed lightly at something from the movie and his eyes came back to mine. They were determined, and he looked like he was struggling at relaxing his now-murderous expression.

I knew exactly how he felt.

He didn’t have to say anything to me. We’d worked together long enough to know that we’d both just agreed to find the bastard. And make him pay.

8

Kash

“W
OMAN!
” I
SHOUTED
, and shook Rachel’s bed roughly. “Wake up.”

She shot straight up, her eyes wide in panic as she looked around her room before settling them on me. “God, I thought earthquakes had followed me to Texas.” Taking a calming breath, she brushed her wild hair back from her face and scowled at me. “What is wrong with you? And what time is it—seven? Really, Kash?”

“Get up and get ready.”

“No.” Pulling the covers up past her shoulders, she sank back into the mattress and shut her eyes.

Hell. No.
“This is your last warning, Rach. Get up.”

A single snort was her only reply.

“Such a pain in my ass,” I mumbled, and walked to the foot of the bed. Grabbing the bottom of the comforter, I ripped it off the bed and dropped it on the ground.

“Oh my God, what if I had been naked?!”

I raised an eyebrow and let my gaze run over her body. I wouldn’t have minded. Ah shit, now I was getting hard and the jersey material of these shorts wouldn’t hide that fact.
Think about Mrs. Adams and her fake cats. Think about Mrs. Adams and her fake cats!
“Moot point; you’re not. Now, get your ass out of bed.”

“Give me at least another couple hours. I just went to sleep.”

“Not my fault, and you’ve had more than enough chances to get up yourself.”

“Kash, please,” she whined.

“Don’t whine. It’s not attractive.” Without giving her any more time, I scooped her into my arms and threw her over my shoulder before heading toward her bathroom.

A low
oompf
left her before she began bitching at me. “I am going to gut you, you freakin’ asshole! Seven in the damn morning, what the hell is wrong with you?! Put me down—ugh! Easy, this shit hurts. You have really bony shoulders, has anyone ever told you that?” She gasped when I turned the shower water on. “Put me down right now, Logan Hendricks, or I swear to all that is holy you will regret the day you moved in across from me and almost took my Jeep door off!”

“No can do, my little Sour Patch.” Thank God I was still only in my workout shorts. Kicking off my running shoes, I stepped into the large tub and winced when she shrieked.

“You evil bastard, let me go!”

“You sure have a mouth on you when you wake up.”

“I will murder you!”

I couldn’t help but smile. She was just so damn cute. “And you’re a little dramatic.”

“This water is freezing,” she whined, and I’d bet she was pouting just as bad as Candice usually did. At least her anger was dying down and her fists had stopped pounding on my back. “What did I ever do to you?”

“I gave you every opportunity to get yourself ready. You were the one who wouldn’t get out of bed.”

“I had barely gone to sleep!”

“Rach,” I snorted, “it’s seven in the morning and you left my place at nine last night. Why had you just gone to sleep?”

She didn’t answer and stopped wiggling against me. She just hung there, limp.

“What—no more threats? No more whining?”

Silence.

“Woman, I swear to God, if you fell asleep on my damn shoulder . . .” I trailed off when I heard her mumble something. “What’d you say?”

“I was afraid to fall back asleep,” she whispered, and my eyes clenched shut.

“Ah, Rach.” I slid her awkwardly down my body until she was standing in front of me. I tried to block the water that was directed at her, but little droplets were bouncing off my bare shoulders and hitting her face. She blinked rapidly against them before dropping her head. “Why didn’t you call me or something?”

She huffed and shook her head. “What for, Kash? To make you sit there with me in sweats longer? So you could act like what happened yesterday morning
didn’t
? I don’t need you to babysit me when I’m being ridiculous.”

“That’s not ridiculous.” With a heavy sigh, I turned off the water and leaned toward the towel rack to grab a towel and wrap it around her. “Get some dry clothes on, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Once I helped her out of the tub and wrung out my soaked shorts as much as possible, I grabbed my shoes and headed for my apartment.

Rachel had stayed with Mase and me all day yesterday. Once Candice was home from cheer camp, she came over and questioned our wardrobe for a moment but dropped it soon after. Mason took her to pick up food for everyone and I’d hoped to question Rachel some more, but she was finally giving real smiles and I couldn’t stomach upsetting her again at that point. After tossing and turning for hours last night, I’d come to the conclusion that I was going to make sure she was never alone, and I was going to find out exactly what had gone down between her and Professor Sickfuck.

Walking back over to the girls’ apartment, I let myself in and was met with a pissed-off Rachel. My favorite kind. I smiled lazily at her and looked at the timer on the microwave I’d set before waking the monster.

“Why are there cinnamon rolls baking in my oven?”

“Because you have a sweet tooth and I figured you’d be pissed at me for waking you up. It was the least I could do.”

She raised a brow and crossed her arms. “And how did you get in here this morning?”

I picked the lock like I always do.
“Candice left it unlocked for me.”

“Whatever,” Rachel mumbled on a sigh, and went to flop down on one of the couches. “So are you ever going to tell me why you woke me up so early?”

“After breakfast.” I went to pull the cinnamon rolls out of the oven and grabbed the icing packets. “Hey, Rach, why aren’t you working this summer?”

Her head snapped up. “Because I didn’t feel like getting a job. Why does it matter to you?”

“I was just wondering.” I shrugged. “Are your parents paying for your share of the apartment as well?”

“My—”

Her voice cut off so suddenly that I looked back over at her, to see that her face had completely drained of color. Dropping the icing, I quickly started toward her, but she shook her head fiercely and sniffed as she leveled another glare at me.

“You aren’t exactly in a position to give me crap for living off my parents seeing as you dropped twenty grand of your daddy’s money on furnishing your apartment.”

I had to take a few deep breaths before I could say anything to her. I knew she was just throwing up her shield again, but God, she knew how to piss me off. Leaning close to her on the couch, I matched her stare and held it. “I’ll find out why you have this shield too. But for now . . . drop the attitude, Sour Patch, or I will take you over my knee and spank your ass so hard you won’t be able to sit for a week.”

Her blue eyes went wide before blinking a few times. When she finally looked away I noticed the blush that had crept up her cheeks, and damn if my pants didn’t shrink a size at her reaction to my threat.

Mrs. Adams and her fake cats. Mrs. Adams . . .

Turning back toward the kitchen, I kept my focus on the cinnamon rolls and off spanking Rachel. “It was a simple question, Rach. I wasn’t getting on you for living off them. You’re in college. That’s normal. I just wanted to know if you didn’t get a job for a reason, and if you were needing money, the bar I work at is looking for waitresses. After yesterday, I’m guessing that even if you had planned on getting a job this summer, what happened to you with that guy pushed those plans aside. And I think a job would be good for you. It would give you something to do, rather than having too much time to be alone and think about it.” I risked a glance at her, only to see her staring out the window and chewing on her bottom lip. “It’s up to you, but like I said, this would be good for you. It would help you start moving on.”

“I
have
moved on,” she whispered.

“If you’re still having nightmares, you haven’t.”

I walked a plate of cinnamon rolls over to the couch and sat next to her, putting the plate between us. She ate, but she never looked back at me; she just continued to stare off at nothing. I didn’t say anything else until we were done.

“Have you told anyone other than me about what happened?” When she shook her head, I continued. “Not even your parents or the police?”

So slowly, she turned to look at me, eyes narrowed into slits. Her mouth popped open to deliver whatever pissed-off answer she had waiting, but I cut her off.

“No more shields, Sour Patch.”

“I hate when you call me that,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Well, I hate when you act like a bitch as a defense mechanism.”

She stared at me in shock for a full minute before smiling shyly at me and looking away again. “Old habit.” She shrugged.

Grabbing her chin, I forced her to look at me again. “I’m serious, Rachel. When you’re with me, no more shields.”

“You don’t understand—”

“I do,” I told her. “You hide your pain behind them. This is how you think you’re protecting yourself. I’m sure it works with some people, but all you’re doing is pushing them away. If you’re hurting, tell me. I’m here for you, and your bullshit isn’t going to work on me because I’m not going to let you push me away. Got it?”

“Yeah.”

“Again, you didn’t tell your parents or the police?”

She looked past my head, her mouth open, before shutting it again. And after long moments she finally shifted her eyes back to mine. “No one else knows.”

Releasing her chin, I leaned into the couch but kept my voice firm. “I need you to tell me exactly what happened.”

“No, no—”

“Rach, I know it’ll be hard. But you need to tell someone. And right now, I’m the only one who knows.” She was still shaking her head back and forth. “This is the first step in your moving on. You need to face it. Completely.”

We sat there in silence for a handful of minutes before she softly told me everything that had happened with her and this guy she still refused to put a name to. My years undercover had helped me keep a straight face during the worst situations you can imagine. But listening to
this
girl tell me what had happened to her . . . my hands weren’t able to relax from their fists the entire time and my body was vibrating with the need to have this guy get up close and personal with my duty weapon. Despite Rachel’s insistence that she hadn’t been raped, that’s exactly what had happened. He hadn’t been able to finish what he started—thank Christ for that and Candice—but that didn’t change what he had done to her. I wanted to kill the son of a bitch.

After she was done telling me her story and had calmed down again, I pulled her into my arms and laid back against the couch. She stiffened at first but soon relaxed.

“I can’t imagine how hard that was for you, Rach. But I’m proud of you.” I kissed the top of her head and continued to whisper, “Not right now maybe, but soon you’ll feel better that you’ve told someone. No one should have to go through that, and definitely not alone. I won’t make you decide anything right now, but I really want you to consider applying at the bar, okay?”

“I will.” She spoke softly against my chest.

“And I want you to think about telling your parents what you just told me.”

Her body tensed beneath my arms again, and when she lifted her head, her eyes were full of tears. “I can’t.” Her words had barely any sound behind them. But I’d understood.

“Just think about it.”

An odd pained look crossed her face and she grimaced. “ ’Kay.”

“I gotta run some errands with Mase this morning, so I need to get going. If you want to apply for the job, Rod is one of the owners as well as the manager at the bar, and he’ll be there sometime before noon. He’s the guy you’ll want to talk to, all right?” When she simply nodded, I sat us back up and pressed my lips to her forehead. “You’re brave, Rach. I’m proud of you. And I’ll make sure nothing like that ever happens to you again.” Before she could respond, I pushed up off the couch and left her apartment.

When I got home, Mason was standing there waiting for me.

“About damn time. I know Rachel put you in the friend zone so I know you weren’t getting any. What took you so long? Painting each other’s nails and gossiping? We’re gonna be late and I really don’t feel like hearing any crap from Detective Ryder today. That guy scares the shit out of me.”

Once I had my wallet, phone, and keys, I turned and faced him. “I’ll make sure to let him know, I’m sure that will make his day.” Lowering my voice once we were outside, I glanced over at the girls’ door and whispered, “Rachel was telling me about what happened.”

Mason stopped walking and turned toward their door. “Ah, shit . . . Rach.”

“Yeah.” Pushing him toward the parking lot, I kept talking. “Sorry, I didn’t feel like rushing that.”

“She okay?”

He and I both knew that was a dumb question; of course she wasn’t. But he was just as worried about her as I was. He loved her too, just in a completely different way.

“She will be. She got it all out for the first time, so eventually. I gave her some things to think about while we were gone today. Hopefully she’ll take them into consideration.” Cranking the engine, I pulled out of the parking lot and switched gears. “Read me the e-mail from Ryder again. I want to know what new things they have on Camden and what we have.”

“They’re thinking he may be getting close to another murder, but at least he’s getting sloppier. The two times he slipped up with using his card last week, it was double what he normally spends. And I checked the receipts—I doubt he’s eating two meals by himself.”

“And those were at the restaurant you work at?”

“Yeah, both nights I wasn’t working though. I reviewed all the cameras we have set up in there and checked them against everyone who came in. The only people who didn’t match up with cards paid in cash. I don’t know how he’s doing this.”

“Waitress or waiter remember anything?”

“Ryder told me we couldn’t question her. She’d served too many people that night, and it’d raise flags if we started questioning staff. What about your bar?”

“I check things when I get there early to see if his card was used and we just missed it. He hasn’t been at my bar in weeks. There’ve been three times we’ve had people leave without paying. First was a homeless guy I see all the time. Next was this ancient woman who comes in almost every day. I don’t think she even realized she hadn’t paid when she left, because she always does. Last was a man in a business suit who took off running out of the bar when he got a phone call. But he came in the next day and paid what was owed. Other than that, I keep a record of the table, date, and time when people pay cash. Every Wednesday I check them on our cameras. Never seen Camden.”