by Lexi Ryan
But stalking and rape? That doesn’t make sense. None of this does.
Cade takes a seat. He’s next to me but he doesn’t look at me or touch me. He might as well be a hundred miles away.
There are too many things I want to say. I don’t know where to start.
I screwed up. . . I’m sorry. . . Let’s get through this together. . .
I love you.
Cade’s the first to break the silence. “Should I pack my things?”
“What? No.” When he finally looks at me, I see pain in his eyes. “I don’t want you to leave,” I whisper. “I want you to forgive me.”
“Fuck.” He pulls me into his arms, and those invisible miles between us dissolve the instant I rest my cheek against his chest. I want to cling to him, but I don’t let myself.
“I shouldn’t have kept his call from you, and I’m sorry. I still can’t let myself imagine he might be guilty, but I knew the call would be important to you, so I should have shared it.”
He squeezes me tight and I can hear him swallow hard. “I just want to keep you safe.”
There are too many words in that sentence. Why can’t he just want to keep me? Be with me? “I know.”
“Can you promise me something?” he asks. “If the evidence proves that Tom is guilty, don’t do anything stupid to try to protect him. As it is, he’s gotten more from you than he deserves.”
I pull back so I can study his face. His features have softened and his eyes have worry lines all around them. “What do you know that you aren’t you telling me?”
He shakes his head. “I can’t say yet. I’m sorry. I want to tell you more, but . . .”
“It’s okay. I understand.” All night, I’ve gotten a sick feeling in my gut every time I think about Tom’s call and how freaked out he was after Courtney’s interview. Now that sick feeling has grown to fill my whole abdomen. “If Tom is guilty, that’s just something I’ll have to come to terms with.”
He kisses me hard, his hands wrapped around my shoulders.
“Let me cook you dinner,” I say when he releases me. “I know the best recipe for twice-baked potatoes. Maybe with a steak?”
“I didn’t know you cooked.” The corner of his mouth hitches up into a crooked grin.
I climb off the couch and shoot him a grin over my shoulder, trying to lighten the mood. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
The grin falls away and he swallows hard. “I know.”
* * *
Cade
This shitty day ended with a pretty fantastic night.
We had dinner and wine on the back patio. We cleaned our plates, emptied two bottles of wine, and talked about nothing of consequence until the moon was high in the sky. When Janelle stood, I thought she was heading in, but she locked eyes with me and stripped out of her clothes as I watched.
“Come on,” she whispered, raking her gaze over me. She sauntered to the hot tub through the darkness, and I couldn’t get my clothes off fast enough.
I don’t know how long we stayed in the hot water touching, kissing, exploring each other’s bodies like nothing else existed. For me, in those moments, nothing did. It was just Janelle, her soft skin, and her muffled moans against my neck as I made her come with my fingers and later—after I sat her on the tiled edge and watched her nipples harden in the cool night air—my mouth.
Her eyes were heavy when I brought her back to the bedroom, but I kissed her and touched her until she was begging to feel me inside. I stretched out our lovemaking and made her come again and again. I found the angles that made her scream and the ones that stole her breath. I didn’t want it to end. I don’t want tomorrow to come.
Now she’s asleep in my arms and it feels so good I want to kick myself for every night I spent in this house without her next to me.
I was so angry she didn’t tell me about Tom’s call, but I have to take some responsibility for that. With a few brief exceptions, I’ve spent the last two weeks doing everything I can to keep her at arm’s length. I need her to know she can trust me because I don’t want to walk away.
I want to make her smile and hear her laughter. I want to keep her safe and learn about every hurt she’s ever felt. I want her to feel like she can tell me her mistakes and share what sacrifices she’s made to pursue her passion for acting. I want her to tell me her secrets.
“I sold my soul for my career a long time ago.”
“What did you do?” I ask my sleeping angel. I brush her hair from her face, needing the feel of her skin against mine to bury the doubt Gormong planted in my mind today. He laid it out for me—how careful the perp has been not to leave a trace, how Tom doesn’t come close to fitting that MO. Extraordinary steps were taken to hide evidence, except everywhere Tom is concerned—the semen, which we can all but assume is Tom, and the security footage, which doesn’t give any indication that Tom took Jo from the party against her will.
Now Gormong feels like he has to look into the three women, and if I weren’t personally involved with one of them, I might agree. “If this man is being framed, I just have to convince myself they’re not behind it.”
I haven’t let myself analyze it much, but Courtney’s reaction to her abduction has never sat right with me. It might be politically correct to say that everyone grieves differently, but that’s not really true. People all go through the same basic steps when faced with a traumatic event and Courtney didn’t. I told myself it was because she couldn’t remember it, but then she gave that interview and shared details of the case that could have compromised the investigation. She exploited her own abduction for press and personal gain. She’s not the first victim to do so, but it still didn’t sit right.
Then there was Jo’s disappearance and convenient reappearance. The fact that no one saw either woman in the public restroom they claim to have found themselves in when they came to.
I’m really fucking uncomfortable with doubting women who claim to be victims of sexual assault, but there’s enough about this case that doesn’t add up that if it were just Courtney and Jo, I probably would have questioned their stories a long time ago.
But it’s not just those two. Janelle is tied up in this too, and she admitted just last night that she has dark secrets and has done horrible things in the name of her career. “What is it that you did that you’re so ashamed of?” I whisper the question into the darkness where it belongs.
I could have asked her tonight. I could have given her a chance to answer, but I refuse to give voice to the question out of a place of doubt. She needs to tell me in her own time, and she will, and we’ll get this whole mess figured out.
I close my eyes and breathe her in. I let what I feel for her fill my heart and my mind until there’s no more room for doubt. Until nothing else matters but how much I love her.
* * *
“Good morning,” Gormong calls when I step into his office the next morning. He arches a brow. “Someone had a good night.”
I shove a cup of coffee in his hands. “Shut up and drink your coffee. Where are we?”
“Still trying to get the hacker to talk. Fucker’s lawyer is going to get him out of here with nothing but a slap on the wrist at this rate.”
I shrug. “Priorities, though, right?”
A uniformed officer sticks his head into the room. “Could I have you in interview room three, please?” he asks Gormong. “It’s important.”
“Sure,” Gormong says, rising from his chair.
I follow him into a room down the hall. When the door shuts behind us, the officer looks at me nervously before turning to Gormong. “Maybe you and I should speak alone, sir?”
“You can speak freely in front of Watts,” Gormong says. “He’s been working closely with us on this investigation.”
The officer scratches his head. “The guy we brought in yesterday, the hacker? He took the deal, and he’s talking. He admitted to hiring the guys to send the letters and other guys to buy the flowers. And we knew he h
acked the security footage at Janelle Crane’s building, but we’ve gotten to see it now.”
“And?” I ask.
“There’s nothing there. No one broke in. He said his job was to make it look like the footage was missing to cover a break-in when there was none.”
I shake my head. “That doesn’t make sense. Someone got into her apartment. You saw it for yourselves.”
The officer’s gaze darts nervously between me and Gormong. “His clients also had him manipulate the software on the cameras at the HiLo.”
Gormong inclines his chin. “Clients? Plural?”
“Did Tom Comer hire him?” I ask.
The officer shakes his head. “Three women, he said. They thought they were anonymous, and they contacted him through fake email accounts. But he’s a hacker and he made sure he knew who he was working with before he took the job. He tracked their IP addresses and kept records. This guy wasn’t stupid.”
“Three actresses,” Gormong says, and the officer nods with a little wince.
“What?” I see it on Gormong’s face. He believes what this criminal is selling them. “Of course he doesn’t want to turn in the guy who paid him.”
“There was no guy,” the officer says.
“I know Janelle.” I’m trying to stay calm, but my voice sounds to loud in my ears. “The idea that she would do this is simply outrageous. Don’t tell me you’re buying it.”
Gormong’s expression tells me everything I need to know, and I stagger back a step. I was prepared for my friend’s well-known stubbornness and determination, but what I see there is worse. I could have handled another emotion, but I’m hobbled by his pity.
“Janelle has been defending Tom through all of this,” I say. “Why would she do that if she was trying to frame him?”
“So she’d look innocent,” Gormong says. “Just like having you stay with her through all this gives her the perfect alibi.”
“She didn’t ask me to stay. That was my decision,” I say, and Gormong arches a brow. “Don’t. Don’t look at me like that. You don’t know her like I do.”
“And how well is that?” he asks. “As well as you knew Cara? Face it. You lose perspective when your heart’s involved.”
“There’s more,” the other officer says before I can respond. “We traced the money that paid the hacker.”
We both turn to him.
“Where’d it come from?” Gormong asks.
The officer drags in a ragged breath and studies me. “The money came from Janelle Crane.”
Chapter 18
Janelle
I’m on the back patio when Cade returns. I hop up when I see him, my smile feeling like it stretches from here to Indiana. “You’re back.”
Last night was good. Beyond good. It was one of those nights that leaves you warm for days after. But Cade doesn’t appear to be reveling in the same afterglow I am.
Exhaustion has sapped the color from his face, and with my first step toward him, I can tell he’s upset.
“I’m glad you’re home,” I say. I put my hands into the pockets of my jeans to keep myself from going to him. “We should talk.”
“Do you have a savings account at Washington North Financial?” he asks.
What does that have to do with anything? “Yeah. Why?”
He swallows hard. “And you’re doing the Roommates movie?”
I can’t figure out his mood. What’s going on? What does the movie have to do with anything? “Yeah. Didn’t we already talk about this? I actually think it’s a really great opportunity.”
“Or is it the opportunity you wanted all along?”
“Why are we talking about this?” My stomach knots. I’m trying to make the best of a bad situation, but if I had my way, I’d be preparing for my role as Trista, not doing some reprise of a tired, ditzy role. I don’t understand why he’s suddenly so invested in my career decisions.
“You are so smart. I knew that about you. So fucking smart.” He stalks toward me and slips his hand into my hair before tilting my face up to his. His kiss is gentle and he lingers with his lips a breath from mine, his forehead against mine. “You can tell me the truth? Tell me so I know what needs to be done to save you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“They found the hacker, princess.” He steps back with a heavy sigh. “They found him and he’s talking. Gormong is going to be here any minute. Just tell me the truth.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What hacker?”
“The one you hired to frame Tom for abducting and raping Jo and Courtney.” He grimaces, as if just saying it is hard for him, but the words don’t make any sense. He’s not making any sense.
“I don’t know anything about a hacker.”
“Don’t lie to me,” he says through his teeth. His face contorts as if it’s being pulled between frustration and agony. “We can get through this, but not if you lie to me.”
“I’m not lying. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I step forward and press a hand to his chest, as if proximity alone might help me make sense of his words.
He steps away and my hand falls. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “It’s funny. I thought I was helping you through one of the hardest, scariest times of your life, but having me here, leading me to believe I was protecting you when I was really just the perfect alibi until you could get revenge and a new movie all in one fell swoop.”
This is like one of those dreams where you’re walking along and suddenly, out of nowhere, you start falling. That’s me right now. Falling. Trying to find footing in this conversation and flailing in midair.
“Gormong’s right,” Cade says. “I lose my perspective when my heart’s involved. That’s why I didn’t want to fall in love with you.”
There’s a reckless domino of movement between my chest and stomach at those words. My heart seems to squeeze and fall at the same time as my stomach pitches upward and turns over. Because he’s telling me what I want to hear—that he loves me—but he looks broken by the words. Like he hates himself for saying them. And yet I can’t hold mine back any longer. I stumble forward, grabbing his shirt as the words stumble out. “I love you too.”
He presses his mouth to mine in a kiss that’s hard and rough and angry. I cling to his chest, not wanting to let him go and not understanding what’s gotten into him.
When he breaks the kiss, he releases me and backs away as if I’m dangerous. “I let myself believe you were different. I would have given you anything. If you would have told me the truth, I would have stood by you through this.”
“Different than what?” But his words are starting to click into place in my head. Hacker you hired. Framing Tom. “You’re confusing me. What happened?”
His eyes lock on something over my shoulder, and he backs away another step. “Goodbye, princess.”
Behind me, someone clears his throat, and when I turn Officer Gormong heads toward me with a pair of handcuffs. “Janelle Crane,” he says, taking my hands in his, “you have the right to remain silent.”
* * *
Cade
I hadn’t let myself think about how this thing with Janelle would end, but I never expected I’d have to watch Gormong cuff the woman I love.
I watch his car disappear into the distance and head back into Nate’s house. I’m alone—I told Davis and Jamaal to leave before I talked to Janelle—and now I go for the whiskey, fully intending to drink until the alcohol numbs all the terrible shit that’s happening in my chest right now.
I pour myself a shot, relishing the burn as it goes down my throat. Janelle used me. She lied to me. And she hurt me. But the only person I hate right now is myself. I hate myself for being such a damn fool. For believing her. For never suspecting, even a little, that she might be capable of this. For wanting to get to her before the police and tell her she’d been found out, to help her run.
But mostly, I hate myself for the hurt in her eyes whe
n Officer Gormong cuffed her. That’s what I think about when I throw back the second shot, and the third.
Cara’s betrayal is an old wound that never seemed to heal, and when they put the evidence in my face at the station—the payment info from Janelle’s accounts, the IP addresses that match each of the girls’ locations—I wasn’t just angry with Janelle, I was angry with myself for being duped. For believing we had a connection. For being so oblivious to a deception of this magnitude.
I’ll admit, I was beginning to believe that the other two women might be behind all this, but never Janelle. Fuck, I still don’t believe it, even after I’ve seen the evidence with my own eyes and talked to the guy she hired.
“Three women. Obviously friends. They’d been planning this for months.”
I can’t wrap my brain around it. Janelle is a good actress, and she’s been hurt by Tom, but I never would have believed she’d be capable of framing him for something so heinous. Did I only see what I wanted to see?
I pour another shot. Maybe I’ll drink until I pass out so I don’t have these images of her smiling face flashing through my mind. Was it all a lie? Just like Cara? Was I nothing more than an alibi for her?
I love you too.
I down another shot and then press my palms to my temples. Maybe she’s lying to protect me. Maybe she got in too deep and didn’t know how to get out.
I yank my phone from my pocket and dial Gormong. He answers on the first ring.
“Take care of her,” I say quickly, faintly aware that my words are slurring together. “If she did this, she had a reason. Maybe the other two blackmailed her or maybe—”
“Go back home to Indiana, Cade. We’ll take care of this.”
“Listen to me.” My voice cracks and I swear I feel it split right down through my chest. “She’s special. She’s a good person.”
His sigh fills the line. “Don’t do this to yourself, man.”
“Fuck, just . . . Just make sure she has a good lawyer.”