“Then who the fuck do I blame?” I growled, spitting out the words. There was so much anger and confusion inside me, I had to direct it somewhere.

I looked up, surprised as Leeta’s hand slid into mine. This was her reaching out. It was a peace offering, an olive branch. I took her gesture and forced myself to continue. If she was willing to hear me out, then I had to talk.

“About a week, maybe less, after she killed herself, I got a package from her. There was a letter. Her way of saying sorry, I guess. She explained everything that had happened. The rape . . . what she could remember, anyway.”

“What happened?”

“She was taken from a bar after someone spiked her drink.” I leaned forward and ran my fingers through my hair. Fuck, I feel sick. Just thinking about what she’d gone through those few days made the anger boil inside me.

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t talk to Leeta about it. I could barely handle even thinking about what had happened to Anna.

Standing up, I kicked the chair back, sending it flying across the floor. I cupped my hands behind my head and began to pace.

Fuck. This isn’t good. Shit, shit.

Leeta stood up. She walked over and grabbed hold of my forearms. She dragged them down to her waist, the feel of my hands against her body calming me instantly.

“Talk to me. Make me understand. Give me a reason not to walk out that door the first chance I get. Please.” She stared into my eyes as though she were searching for any sign of hope, begging me to give her something.

Then it hit me: she wanted a reason not to hate me.

I was backed into a corner with very few options. I couldn’t keep her there forever. If I trusted her to walk away without going to the police, then I had to trust her to hear what I had to say. I had to trust her, because the alternative was something I couldn’t even think about right then.

I had to trust her, because I expected her to trust me.

Sitting down on the chair, I struggled to put my words in order. Where do I even start? There were things I couldn’t tell her—like what else was in that letter. Not yet.

 “What you saw on those videos, it was completely consensual. Only, the buyer didn’t know that.”

She tensed at the mention of the videos. “The buyer?” she asked. Her brow furrowed.

“Anna wasn’t just raped. Her rape was sold online. They bid on girls, and whoever wins is sent a link to a private website where they can watch the rape exclusively.”

“You said she was sold? To the highest bidder?”

I nodded.

 “That's . . . I don't even know what to say. So these girls . . . the videos . . . ?”

“Consensual," I said softly. "They are prostitutes. The only way I could think of to get to these guys was to become one of them. The girls? I guess you could say that they’re old friends of the family."

“Nice,” she muttered, her face sullen. “So you knew them?” The hurt in her face was obvious. I sat forward and grabbed her hand, pleading with my eyes.

“Please, Leet. You don't need to forgive me. I understand that what I did was wrong. But I need you to understand why I did this. I need you to understand how important it is that I find these guys. Not just for Anna, but for everyone else. There are other victims. And they will keep doing this until someone stops them.”

Her eyes lowered. I could see my last words had gotten to her. She believed me; I could feel it. Her hate was faltering. Leeta stared at the floor. She was listening, and that was a good sign.

“So . . . what exactly are you doing?” she asked.

“I have no fucking idea.” I wiped my brow, the sweat building up even though it wasn’t all that warm. “All I know is that these people are going to pay for what they did to her.”

Leeta was silent. I watched her closely, searching for a sign that just maybe, on some weird level, she got what I was doing.

“I don’t know what to say . . . These people, do you know where they are?” she asked.

I shook my head. “I know a bit.” Something was stopping me telling her just how much I knew at this point. The less she knew, the more I could keep her safe. If they found out I was onto them, I didn’t know what they’d be capable of.

 “And if you find them? Then what?” Her voice was soft, and I got the feeling she didn’t want to know the answer.

“I don’t know,” I lied. I knew. I knew exactly what I was going to do when I found the assholes responsible for this.

“So this is far from over.”

“I’m sorry, Leet. You have to know, those videos . . . all I thought of was you and how much I’d be hurting you.” And that was the damn truth. “All the cash I made from the videos went straight to the girls. That kept them off the streets for a few weeks, Leet.” I was clutching at straws now, desperate to justify myself in any way I could.

Leeta sat there, frowning. Her silence was killing me. She rubbed her wrists where the rope had burned through the top layer of her skin, leaving a nice red mark in its wake. My throat constricted. Fuck, I’d hurt her. I’d actually caused her physical pain.

 I wanted to reach out and touch her wrists. I wanted to kiss them better, make the pain go away.

But I didn’t. I sat there, ashamed. Ashamed of how deeply I’d hurt her. Ashamed that no matter what her reaction was, it wouldn’t stop me pursuing this.

“I think I need to lie down,” she mumbled. She stood up and walked to the bedroom. At the door, she turned around. “You sure you don’t want to tie me to the bed?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Oh, God. The thought of her tied to the bed in there was not something I wanted to think about just then. My cock twitched as I watched her disappear into the room.

Fuck.

Chapter Fifteen

Leeta

Climbing onto the double bed, I sighed, not sure what I was feeling. Did his explanations make it better? Did it excuse what he’d done?

No, but knowing he wasn’t a rapist brought me relief.

I felt sorry for him. He blamed himself for Anna’s suicide; I could see that. He would do absolutely anything to avenge what had happened to her.

And there lay the problem.

He’d cheated on me. Whatever his reasons were, he had cheated on me.

He had fucked other women. My wonderful, beautiful Mace—the guy I thought could do no wrong by me—had betrayed me in the worst possible way. How could he claim to love me and turn around and do that? If you love someone, you don’t do that.

Blinking back tears, I dragged the covers up over my shoulders

Fuck you, Mace. Fuck you for doing this to me.

#

I woke up, disoriented. Where the hell was I?

Throwing back the covers, I stood up, unsteady on my feet. Slowly, things began filtering back to me: Mace. The videos. Anna. I gripped the sides of my head and squeezed my eyes shut. It was all too much. I couldn’t deal with it at the moment.

I opened the bedroom door and ventured out. Blood pumped through my veins. The thought of seeing him scares me. He wasn’t the guy I’d thought he was. All these secrets . . . it was like Ben all over again.

“Can I get you something?”

I jumped as Mace appeared in front of me. “No. Thanks.” I forced a smiled and walked over to the couch. Hang on, why did I feel like I had to be nice? I had every right to be annoyed at him.

He followed me over and sat down on the coffee table in front of me, placing his hands on my knees. I tensed and pushed them away.

“Don’t . . .” I began, my voice trailing off. “Just don’t.”

“Leet, please—”

“Please what? For fuck’s sake, give me some damn space! Let me process what you’ve told me. I think I deserve that—don’t you?” My voice was cold. His eyes clouded with frustration as he stood up and cursed.