Bound by Deception

by Trish McCallan

  After shoving the casserole dish into the oven and setting the timer, Rio followed her into the living room. She'd taken off for college immediately after that party. How soon afterwards, he wasn’t sure. But it must have been within days. Her first letter to him, which had arrived a week later, had been postmarked from Seattle. Had the difficulty she mentioned been related to what had happened at the party? Or what had happened between him and her?

  For the first time, he questioned her flight from the only home she’d known since her mother’s death. She’d never been back, according to Lena’s account. To totally break from her only support system like that, to abandon the only home she’d had available, to avoid returning to her family during breaks and summers…something must have happened.

  He waited for her to settle onto the couch before taking a seat beside her. He could tell from the way she froze, and caught her breath, that she hadn’t expected him to sit so close.

  “Becca,” his voice emerged more somber than he’d planned. He shifted until his back was against the arm rest, and he had a good view of her face. Or what he could see of it, which was her profile. “Look at me.” He waited until her cautious face turned toward him. “While you were in the emergency room, you said that you’d been drugged. At that party. That night before I shipped out. You said you’d been drugged. Is that true?”

  He watched her face seize, and then go still. Completely blank. “Who told you that?”

  “Tag and Tram. You told them. That night in the ER.”

  “I did?” she whispered, a frown wrinkling her forehead. Her eyes darkened, going distant, as though she were thinking back. “I don’t remember.”

  “They said you were pretty out of it.” When she didn’t respond, he leaned toward her. “Is it true? Were you drugged?”

  He could hear his tight breathing in the tense silence that surrounded them. And then she nodded. His heart skipped a couple of beats and then started up again, too heavy, too hard. Too raw. Nausea churned.

  She’d been in Kenny Pickering’s arms when he’d arrived at the party. What had that bastard done to her?

  You walked away. You left her there.

  His gut clenched beneath a wave of horror. He’d investigated far too many sexual assaults that had started with doctored drinks.

  “What happened?” He forced the question out.

  She took a deep breath, and lifted her head, flinching as her gaze fell on his face. Her eyes widened. “Adam put something in my Pepsi and handed it off to Adele. She gave it to me. Made sure I drank it. I don’t remember much after that. The whole night’s blank. The next thing I remember is waking up the next morning.”

  Rio’s throat was so tight it hurt to speak. “You were with Kenny. Kenny Pickering.”

  Her exhale shuddered. “I know. Adam took pictures. But I don’t remember anything. What I do know came from Adele. She asked Kenny to come to the party and hook up with me.”

  Tension cinched every muscle in Rio’s body tight. Rage shortened his breath. Unable to sit still, he jolted to his feet.

  “No, no.” Her voice rose as she sputtered the denial out. “You don’t understand. Adele asked Kenny to come because she knew I’d be safe with him. That he wouldn’t take advantage of me. That he’d protect me from anyone who was…well…less chivalrous.”

  Rio’s muscles loosened as her words sank in. The tension in his chest eased, and his next breath came easier.

  “Let me get this straight.” Another breath, still too damn shallow and tight. “Adam put something in your drink, but Adele handed you off to her friend Kenny, and he kept the other guys off you?”

  “Yeah, I guess. Adam took a bunch of pictures of me in Kenny’s arms, you came and—” She coughed, rushing the next word out “—left. And Adele and Kenny took me home and put me to bed.”

  The red haze drained from Rio’s mind, allowing him to think again. From Becca’s account, Adam and Adele had planned the drugging. Hell, Adam had arranged the party. He’d been the one to insist Rio come over. He’d claimed the party was in Rio’s honor and that their friends wanted to send him off properly. Plus, Adam had promised that Becca wouldn’t be there. He’d known that Rio wouldn’t show up to the party if Becca was there—not after she’d tossed his ring in his face. So, Adam had lied to get him into that house. Fuck, he’d lied about everything.

  That entire night had been premeditated.

  What the fuck had they been thinking?

  “What did they hope to accomplish?” he asked tightly.

  “They wanted to make sure we stayed broken up. Lena had been pushing Adele to make a play for you. Your grandmother and Lena were hell bent on you two getting married and giving them a bunch of shared grandbabies.”

  Rio scowled. Looking back, he could clearly see such a conspiracy brewing between his grandmother and Lena. The two women had continually thrown him and Adele together. Even after he’d started dating Becca, the nudging had continued, along with the constant badmouthing of the girl he’d chosen to share his leave with.

  But why had Adam taken part that night?

  His onetime buddy had ignored his mother’s wishes more often than not. He’d also been a lazy, selfish bastard. He wouldn’t have gone to the trouble to break Rio and Becca up to help Adele out. No, there must have been something in it for him. As the realization hit, his entire perspective shifted.

  Jesus.

  Why the hell had he put so much stock in Adam’s so-called-insight into Becca?

  Sure, the guy had been fun to hang with, and they’d shared similar interests. Yeah, they’d been friends since kindergarten, and their parents had been tight. But he’d known, even back then, that Adam would throw him under the bus in a hot minute if it suited his needs.

  At some level, he’d known Adam couldn’t be trusted. So why the fuck had he listened to the fucker when it came to Becca?

  What the hell was I thinking?

  “Do you know why Adam drugged you?”

  “I don’t know. He was determined to break us up. I mean look at all those tall tales about me he used to pass onto you. But I don’t think it was because his mom wanted you for Adele. It was more like he didn’t want me to have anyone who cared about me, anyone who was on my side.” Becca paused, hesitated, and then closed her mouth.

  “What?” When she hesitated again, he swore beneath his breath. “I’m listening this time. Don’t hold back.”

  She studied his face, before offering a slight nod.

  “Okay, this is going to sound crazy, but I think he hated me. He was mean to Adele. Played some nasty jokes on her, but that was just him being a bully. There wasn’t anything personal in his behavior toward her. But…his actions toward me…they felt different. More personal. Like he had a grudge, and a lot of hatred when it came to me.”

  Rio thought that over. “What did he do that makes you think he hated you?”

  True, Adam had been a bit of a bully, although he’d stopped that behavior as soon as Rio had stood up for one of his victims. Or maybe he’d just stopped bullying the other kids in front of Rio.

  “He did lots of things.” She shuddered. Her face haunted. “But the worst was when he picked the bathroom lock and took a video of me showering. He uploaded the video to the internet and sent the link to a bunch of my classmates, who shared it and shared it and shared it until the entire school was snickering and pointing at me.” She paused, took a deep breath. “I told dad, but Adam denied doing it.”

  “Jesus.” Rio shook his head, his skin crawling. “When was this?”

  “When I was fifteen. Dad had dead bolts installed on my bedroom and bathroom after that. At least he believed me.” Her face twisted for a moment, before smoothing out. “It was pretty awful there for a while. Dad moved me to a different school, but the link got passed around there too.”

  Ah hell, no wonder she’d had such a mercurial personality. The trauma had just kept coming. He’d known she’d gone to a different school than Adele,
but Adam had claimed she’d insisted on staying with her old school, no matter what a pain in the ass it had been to get her there and back.

  If she’d been fifteen, Rio would have been nineteen, which put him months deep in his first deployment aboard the USS Ronald Reagan. Adam had been sent home on a dishonorable discharge the year before, leaving him free to terrorize his newly arrived, traumatized half-sister.

  The timing also put him in town when Rachel Blaine had died. He buckled that realization down…for now.

  “Hell, Becca. Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

  She snorted, rolling her eyes. “I tried to. You never believed me.”

  “You never told me about the video.” He would have broken a couple of faces and arms over that piece of shit.

  “Seriously?” She shot him a get-real look. “You think I was going to bring that up, and chance another run on the video? Particularly when you wouldn’t have believed me anyway? Adam would have convinced you that I took and uploaded the video myself. So, nope—not a chance I was opening that discussion.”

  Rio flinched—fuck, if she thought so little of him, why had she gone out with him in the first place? Although, he couldn’t blame her for her lack of trust. He had listened to Adam far too often back then. Not all the time, of course. He’d been aware Adam had resented her. But, hell, he’d even been sympathetic toward his buddy, figuring it couldn’t have been easy to find out that the dad who’d never had time for Adam or Adele had made time for a second family.

  But what if Adam’s feeling had gone deeper than resentment? What if he had hated Becca, as she suspected? Hatred was a primal motivator when it came to murder, or attempted murder.

  Adam had made it through boot camp, so he knew his way around a rifle. He’d been dishonorably discharged after he’d failed his second drug test—not even his father had been able to make that one go away—so he wasn’t exactly reliable. The abandoned cartridges came to mind. He could picture Adam leaving them behind.

  If Lena knew Becca was in town and where she was staying, chances were Adam knew too. He could have waited outside Becca’s hotel and followed her to Wilbanks's office.

  He could have been in that truck…or on the roof...or both.

  Except, according to Adele and the flight manifest, the bastard had flown to Miami the day before the attack. And according to the keycard log, he’d left his hotel room an hour before someone had shot Becca and reentered the room four hours later—three hours after the shots had rang out.

  If the electronic tagging from the keycard was accurate, Adam couldn’t have taken that shot. He wouldn’t have had time. Best case, it took five hours to fly from Miami to San Diego and another five hours to fly back. His key card detailed only a four-hour absence.

  So the actual shooter couldn’t be Adam.

  Although he sure as hell could have hired someone to take the shot.

  Chapter Ten

  The casserole Emma had left for dinner was delicious. A cheesy, crunchy noodle thing with creamy chicken and spinach. Replete, Becca set her fork down and leaned back in her chair. Her stomach was stuffed, but her taste buds insisted on one more helping.

  “Relax, I’ll take care of the dishes.” Rio shoved back his chair.

  Becca pushed her chair away from the table too, and picked up her plate, carrying it to the sink. While the sling handicapped her in some respects, she could still help clear the table, even if it was one plate, dish or glass at a time.

  “What are you going to do with the money Harold left you?” Rio asked as he loaded the dishwasher.

  A good question and one Becca had been mulling over since the check had arrived. Picking up the dishrag, she squeezed out the excess water and wiped down the table.

  “I’ll keep some of it. It will be nice to have an emergency fund. But I’ll split the rest between Paws for Veterans and Eagle's Nest Ranch. Veterans make up a solid portion of my practice and some of my clients have benefited from therapy dogs. Paws for Veterans trains shelter dogs that were facing euthanasia, so the program benefits abandoned animals too. Eagle’s Nest Ranch is an equine therapy program for troubled kids.” She returned to the sink with the washcloth. “What?” she asked as a strange look spread across his face.

  He propped a hip against the counter and studied her, that odd look infiltrating his eyes. “You’re giving the inheritance away?”

  “Not all of it. I’m keeping some.” She shifted uncomfortably beneath his gaze.

  “So, you said.” He shook his head in apparent disbelief. “An emergency fund.”

  “It’s the right thing to do.” Why in the world did she feel compelled to defend the decision? It was none of his business. But that didn’t stop the words from tumbling out. “I’m sure Harold never intended for me to hoard all that money. Besides, think of Cuddles. Emma saved her from being euthanized. Paws for Veterans saves dogs like Cuddles. Gives them another chance at life with someone who needs them. Both organizations can do a lot more good with that money than I can.”

  She suddenly realized she hadn’t seen the dog since she’d woken from her nap, Beth must have taken her with them. The animal followed her rescuer around like a little gray shadow.

  He raised his hands, palms out. “I’m not arguing. Both charities sound worthy.” He paused to shrug. “You’ve got a good heart, Becs.”

  Becs?

  He hadn’t called her that since the night she’d thrown his ring at him.

  A burst of warmth heated her chest. She wasn’t sure if it was because of his return to the nickname, or the compliment—or a combination of the two.

  Uncomfortable with this new-found ease between them, Becca retreated to the living room. It was easier to keep her distance when he didn’t like her. She settled onto the couch, with her injured shoulder tucked against the armrest. It was still early. Barely six p.m., way too soon for bed. They needed a distraction.

  “Emma has Netflix,” Becca said, her voice rising as he followed her over to the couch and settled in beside her. She choked to a stop, wiggled farther into the corner and tried again. “We could stream something.”

  “Sure.” He spread his legs and leaned back against the cushions, frowning.

  She froze beside him as her body started to heat, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. Danger…Will Robinson…danger.

  He was so close she could feel the heat his big body emitted, smell that light spicy aftershave he favored. When dizziness hit, she realized she’d forgotten to breathe. Instead, she was holding his scent way down deep in her lungs. Immersing herself in it.

  “I’m sorry.”

  His apology came out of nowhere, knocking her from her sensual daze. She shifted against the armrest until she faced him. “For what?”

  He scrubbed a hand down his face, his eyes so full of self-disgust they’d turned black. “For everything. For not believing you. For believing Adam and Lena and hell—everyone else. For leaving you at that party. For not reading your letters. He scowled. “For everything.”

  At a loss for words, Becca simply stared at him. Twelve years ago, when she’d been raw, and hurting and still painfully in love with him, she’d day dreamed about this moment. Fantasized about the instant he finally saw her, saw into the heart of her, recognized her for who she was, instead of who other people claimed she was.

  She’d dreamed about the day he’d track her down and apologize. Admit what a mistake he’d made. Admit he’d listened to the wrong people. Of course his apology had been followed by begging. Please Becca, give me another chance…can we start over? I’ll love you forever. I’ll never doubt you again.

  Not that those last two fantasies had come true. They would never come true now, it was too late. Twelve years too late.

  “Thank you,” she finally said. Since it wasn’t fair to let him shoulder all the responsibility. She sighed. “Although, I share the blame. God knows my behavior, must have seemed irrational. It’s hard to trust the word of a crazy person.” She of
fered him a pained smile.

  “Post-traumatic stress.” Rio scanned her face. “Finding your mother like that… Hell, it would have done a number on anyone.”

  She nodded slightly. “Partly. And then there was the whole living with Adam and Lena thing. I was super stressed and didn’t handle it well. The years between Mom’s death and leaving for college were a constant diet of mental abuse. When you came along, I latched onto you like I’d found my knight in shining armor. I expected you to save me, carry me away.”

  He scowled, disgust heavy on his face. “Some knight I turned out to be.”

  “But it doesn’t matter, don’t you see?” She leaned toward him, reaching out with her good hand. “You couldn’t save me, Rio. Nobody could save me. I had to confront my demons myself. Learn how to deal with them. What happened between us was for the best. I had no business being in a relationship. Especially with someone like you. Someone who had no qualms about putting themselves in danger. The thought of losing you, of you dying, it terrified me.”

  He cocked his head, a confused expression wrinkling his brow. Absently, he reached for the hand she held out. “But you knew I was a SEAL from day one.”

  “Yes.” She grimaced and shook her head. “But I was so naïve, clueless really. I knew you were on leave from the Navy. I knew you were a SEAL. I even knew your job was dangerous. But I didn’t understand how dangerous until that helicopter went down in Afghanistan just before you shipped out. Suddenly I realized that could have been your picture on the news. Your body on the way home in a pine box.” She shuddered. “I Googled how many SEALs had been killed in action and there were so many names. So many young faces.”

  Sudden understanding lit his eyes. “That’s why you demanded I leave the teams.”

  She forced a smile. Did she look as ashamed as she felt?

  “Like I said, I didn’t handle stress very well and the thought of losing you was unbearable.” How ironic, in the end, she’d lost him anyway. She swallowed hard before sighing and giving the regret wings. She couldn’t change the past, best not to let it affect her present, or future. “I’m sorry I threw your ring in your face. It really was lovely.”