“Oh, just how it was such a nice weekend. The thought of going back to work tomorrow doesn’t sound so appealing.”

              “Take the day off, then. God knows you deserve it after working your ass off while I was gone.”

Trent, you couldn’t have come up with a better idea, I think to myself. Perfect excuse for me as I turn in my seat to face him.

              “Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?” I ask, turning on the charm.

              “No. Not at all. Stay home and relax all day, or go have a shopping day. You know I don’t care what you do.”

Yeah, right, dipshit.             

“Actually, I think I might call your mom when we get home and see if she wants to go shopping. I haven’t talked to her all week.”

I keep my eyes on his face to see his reaction but there is none, just an unfeeling, straight-ahead stare.

              “That’s a great idea. I need to call her myself. We have been so busy at work this past week that I didn’t even give a thought to calling her.”

All kinds of alarms start to go off in my head at his statement. Shit! I don’t trust him or his mother to be together right now. When I make my not-so-pleasant visit to my dear old mother-in-law tomorrow, that will be one of the first things I demand of her. Stay the fuck away from Trent.

Weaving our way through traffic, the rest of the ride is nothing more than small talk regarding clients and audits and things from work.

Shit, we have access to so many people’s personal information. Drowning in my own personal hell, I never even gave the business a thought at all this week. What the hell do I do about that? He obviously has to know something about accounting with the way he has talked and handled several clients on the phone this week.

Somehow I need to find a way to see exactly what it is he is doing in that office. I wonder what kind of damage he has done to the business Turner and I have worked so hard to create. Who the hell knows how many clients’ books he could have screwed up, or if he is stealing from them?

I just have to shove all this work stuff aside for now and focus on the fact that my husband is missing and pray to God when this does get out people will understand. I am being pulled in so many directions I don’t even know what is right or wrong anymore.

“I need to get some gas. Do you need anything?” Trent asks sweetly, sounding exactly like his brother.

“No. I’m good. Thanks.”

I smile smugly into the darkness. Good. I need to make a phone call while you’re inside paying for the gas.

He smiles as he pulls into the gas station and steps out of the car. The side mirror gives me a good view of him as he opens the gas cap and starts to pump the gas with his head facing away from me. Frantically I scrounge through my purse and find my phone, dialing Melody’s number while keeping my eyes on Trent’s reflection.

              “Clove?” she answers, her voice sounding panicky.

              “Melody. I don’t have much time to talk. I just wanted you to know that I will be over to your house tomorrow morning at nine and I want answers.”

              “W-what do you mean? I told your brother everything that I know.”

“Cut the bullshit. You and I both know there is more to all of this than you told Zack. I have a right to know everything and you’re damn well going to tell me.”

I hang up abruptly, not wanting her to say any more or try and weasel her way out of this. I drop my phone back into my purse and place it back on the floor of the car. As soon as I sit back up, Trent finishes and makes his way into the station.

Just as he gets inside, I hear an unfamiliar ping. I turn away from the window and look around for the source. It’s his phone, which he placed in the cup holder between the seats. Making sure he is still inside, I grab the phone. For an imposter, he sure is dumb as hell . . . when I swipe the screen, he doesn’t have it locked.

              “Oh my God. No!”

I see who the message is from and tears form in my eyes as I gasp and place my hand over my mouth. The text is a picture of Turner lying on what appears to be a dirty mattress, bloody and bruised everywhere.

              “Oh my God, Turner. What have they done to you?”

I softly rub my hands over the photo on the screen and silently curse any and everyone who has done this to my husband. I have no clue what makes me think so rapidly, but I reach down and dig my phone out, quickly taking a picture of my husband and setting the phone back in place.

My heart cannot bear looking at what they, he, or whoever has done, so I shut my phone completely off and keep it in the palm of my hand as I lay my head back on the headrest. Even though I want to cry, somewhere deep down I find the strength to hold it all in. Even when Trent climbs back in the car and takes off driving with his hand resting on my leg, I hold it in. I hold it in until we get home and I climb in my bathtub. Then, and only then, do I let my tears fall, all the while gripping my phone. It’s the closest thing I have to him right now and yet I still can’t bring myself to look at it again.

With unstable hands I power my phone back to life, all the while not even looking at the screen. It takes me several minutes before I am able to flip my phone over, and when I bring up the pictures and see Turner’s battered and tortured form lying there, it’s the most heart-rending thing I have ever seen. My entire body shakes thinking of what he has endured at the hands of his father, a man who doesn’t even deserve the honor to be called that. And why?

I can’t look at this anymore, so I hurry up and shoot a text to my brother explaining everything. Immediately he responds, asking me if I am going to be all right. My ever-overprotective big brother is undeniably doing his best to look out for me. He has attacked this with the wrath of a thousand suns and he’s damn good at his job, one of the best on his force.

The pain he has to be going through tears me up inside. For all the issues and arguments Zack and I had growing up, not once have we not had each other’s backs. But this? No one should have to try and protect someone from what I am going through right now. It doesn’t matter, anyway. Whatever happens, I really believe none of us are ever going to be okay again.

“Clove, you alive in there?”

I jump and almost drop my phone into the tub when Trent speaks from right outside the bathroom door.

              “Yeah! I started to doze, is all.”

I’m thankful as all hell my voice stays strong and doesn’t show any of my hurt or anger.

              “I did too, on the couch. Come on and let’s go to bed.”

Sleep isn’t going to come to me at all tonight, and I know this. I let out the plug and with sluggish moves, I dry myself off and lotion up before brushing my teeth. When I pull Turner’s t-shirt over my head and inhale his scent, I have to brace myself against the vanity for a moment before climbing into bed with the piece of shit stranger who had a part in the beating of my husband. I roll as far away from Trent as possible. He might want to sleep with one eye open tonight, because the way I feel right now, I may just stab him in his cold, black heart.

“You sure you can handle working by yourself tomorrow?” I ask more out of concern about what he will do when I am not there than anything else.

He chuckles, giving me the same damn sexy crooked smile I’m used to seeing on my husband’s face, then stretches his naked torso around to turn off the light.