by Kat Kenyon
And we will find him.
I’m almost done when she slips into the huge tub. I want to touch her, but I just give her a grin through the glass and slide my eyes over the lines of her body. I miss having her in the shower, but her mental health is more important. That doesn’t stop my dick from getting hard, so I turn away and scrub down, dashing out of the glass enclosure and wrapping up before I make her uncomfortable.
Clothes find their way onto my body; my mind on autopilot. Breakfast gets made quick, and after twenty minutes, she comes out, her long hair twisted up on her head, jeans and my Warriors hoodie swimming on her frame. I love the way it hangs, swallowing her and coating her in my scent.
Mine.
We’re just sitting down to do homework, when Corey comes out of the extra bedroom.
Sitting down with a bowl of cereal, he smiles at the textbooks in front of us. “Hey sis, how you doin’?”
“Happy to be home.”
The two of them, golden and beautiful, smile at each other for a long time. It’s Rayne who breaks first, asking, “How are you?”
“Better now that you’re out.” A bite gets shoveled in his mouth. “I need to head out. I’ve got some errands to run and then I need to get back to Jen and the squirt.”
Her glow dims a little. “I understand.”
“Do you need backup?” I ask.
I know he’s tracking Emily whenever he can, and if anything happens to him, Rayne will never forgive herself. When he glowers at me, I don’t look away or flinch. Our staring contest ends when Rayne flicks me and gives him an annoyed look.
“Why would you need backup?” she asks him.
“I want to find out who’s funding her.” He takes another big bite of cereal. “As soon as I do that, no more errands.”
The pencil drops from my fingers as I cock a brow. “So?”
Rolling his eyes, he shakes his head. “Keep your guys on the search. I can handle Emily.”
“You need to quit following her, Core. Those people are dangerous.” Rayne’s hands are shaking.
Corey stuffs another bite in his mouth and reaches for her. “I’ll be careful.” A nasty grin crosses his face. “But, don’t worry, I’m not exactly alone. I have my own urban family, and they’re a hell of a lot scarier than her dealer.” He gives her hands a squeeze and goes back to shoveling food in his mouth then shrugs. “We’ll find out who’s bankrolling her.”
Her fingers thread through his. “Don’t get hurt.” Her voice cracks. “I just got you back.”
The two of them mesh for a minute, sibling to sibling, guilt to forgiveness. The connection between them visibly repairing itself as the strands they share of blood and history weave back together.
She’s beautiful when she’s happy.
When Corey leaves, we study and catch up on homework until Mom and Aunt Margot; Arnowsky, his associate, Sisten, and another woman we’ve never seen; and Neil and Sam arrive, leaving just enough room for the nine of us, everyone pulling out computers and folders.
Neil is the first to speak, his eyes staying on Rayne the entire time. “I’d like to address new security issues. Rayne, I’m gonna need you to stay here, unless you’re at class.” He pulls out a file, laying his hand on it. “I don’t want you to be scared, but there have been some new threats, and until we track the person writing them, I need you in places I’ve been over thoroughly.”
My hand slips into hers as she asks, “What kind of threats?”
He glances between us both. “Jealous rants, threats to punish you. We don’t think these are Gabe, but we aren’t sure who it is.” He nods to Sam. “We’ll have a four-man team on you specifically from now on.”
“And who’s paying for this ridiculous expense?” my aunt sneers.
“Not you, so why do you care?” I snap.
She rolls her spine back into her chair, nails tapping on the table. “You don’t have any money, Tyler. You’re spending family money.”
Mom jerks away from her sister. “Margot, I swear to God—”
“He’s spending family money.” She waves her hand at Rayne, who folds in on herself. It’s not the first time she’s been hostile, but her disdain directed at Rayne has my blood pounding. Especially when my girl opens her mouth to speak and no words come out.
Squeezing her hand, I throw the other palm in the air, stopping Margot’s response. “It isn’t family money. There’s no such thing. It’s Granddad’s money. So, if you have a problem with it, take it up with him. You do not come into our home and attack my girlfriend.” I point at the door. “Door’s right there. Use it if you have a problem with this situation.”
Mom grunts, sitting on the edge of her chair, and starts digging through her bag, pushing herself into Neil in an effort to get away from Margot, who stares at me in shock.
“You can’t just tell me to leave,” she says, her mouth dropping open.
“I didn’t, I gave you your options. But, I will kick your ass out of here if you’re rude to Rayne one more time.”
“You don’t own this apartment, you don’t pay—”
Mom’s phone slaps down on the table, showing a picture of Granddad, who just picked up. “Hey, Dad. Sorry to bother you, but we’re all sitting here trying to work out the next steps, and there’s been some concern—” Mom says, glaring at Margot, whose eyes are locked on the phone. “What guidance do you have?”
His deep voice booms in the silence. “Do what they tell you.”
“Dad, I know you’re extending yourself here—” Margot begins.
His scoff booms over the phone. “No, I’m not. What’s the point of an empire if you can’t take care of your family? Do whatever you have to.” He coughs. “Tyler, my boy, I was thrilled to hear your young lady was released.”
“Thank you, Mr. Bassie,” Rayne says, avoiding the glare from Margot.
“Is that Rayne?” Granddad asks, joy clear in his voice.
“Yes, sir.” I squeeze her hand tighter.
“Don’t you worry about anything, dear; we take care of our own.”
“Dad!” Margot bursts out.
“Yes, honey?” His tone is patient, but flat.
“Her family is stepping up. We shouldn’t be interfering.”
“If you’re talking about Mathews, I’ve been briefed. That man is a menace and a jackass. Rayne wants to stay with Tyler. If he tries to take her, I’ll happily spend the rest of my life taking apart every asset he has. Rayne belongs to Tyler.”
With every word, Margot gets stiffer, eyes narrowing; meanwhile, beside me, Rayne’s eyes gloss over. “Thank you, Mr. Bassie.”
“Call me either Erol or Granddad, the choice is yours.” Margot chokes when he says it, but Granddad doesn’t stop. “And Tyler, I’ll be there as soon as I wrap up the contract here in Hong Kong. Tell the team to do whatever they think is best. Now, I have late night negotiations, so I’ll see you all later.” Without warning, the call cuts off, just like it always does when he’s done talking.
“Late night negotiations, my ass.” Margot bleeds embarrassment and unsatisfied anger. “He’s drinking.”
“I don’t give a shit,” Mom snaps. “Mr. Dean, you heard my father, add however many people you need, I don’t care. Just keep my son and Rayne safe.”
Neil practically pulls his beard out before dropping his hand. “I already did. There’ll be four people on this floor at all times, four people on Rayne when she leaves and two on Tyler, and Erol already approved the cost of keeping Sam and me full time.”
He pushes one of the files to me across the table. “We’ve got some good leads on where Stevens is.” He nods to Arnowsky and Sisten at the end of the table. “With what your attorneys gave us, we’re adding another investigator to follow the new lead.”
Margot goes to say something, but Mom’s hand wraps around hers so tight it changes color, and she keeps her mouth shut. “Fantastic. Anything else we should know?”
“No.” He looks at Rayne again. “I nee
d you to be okay staying in the areas we’ve already scoped out.”
Her sharp nod has him leaning back.
“Then you know what’s happening and what we’re doing about it.”
Mom looks at the new woman, looks around the table, and says, “Everyone, this is Carla Simmons, from Libby and Simon PR. Dad called them. Libby and Simon is one of the best at handling”—she gives a little wave—“the kind of ugliness surrounding this.”
Carla stands and reaches across the table to shake our hands. When she sits down, she pushes her silver wire glasses back into place and sends a fake smile across the room. The image of her practicing her smile in the mirror flashes, because it doesn’t look like a natural expression.
“We’re happy to help.” She flips open a folder from her bag. “The truth is, your public image is confused right now. The public’s view of each of you are very different.”
She slides a series of media images, blogs, and transcripts from blogs, none of which I attempt to read.
“As you can see, Ty, your rescue of Rayne makes you look like a hero. People appreciate good acts, and by taking her to the hospital and taking care of her, you look good.”
The message hidden under her words stings with its implication.
“I really don’t care what they think, and I have no intention of playing into it.”
“You both need to understand”—she gives an empty look of concern to Rayne—“the public was sympathetic while you were in the hospital the first time, but that support has faded with this latest situation. Many believe you’re taking advantage of a young man from a rich family. Your presence is doing damage to you both.”
Her small choke and swallow are a trigger. Air pushes through my nose, loud and angry like a bull in the ring. “I really hope you didn’t just try to make my girlfriend feel guilty or suggest we should make decisions because of some assholes on a blog.”
She straightens in her chair. “Ty, I’m not saying she’s bad.” She gives another fake smile. “Rayne, I just think you should know that with his visibility, the appearance of being taken advantage of is very bad.” She flips her hands over in subtle pleading. “He’s from a very rich family and rumor is you’re the reason his parents are getting a divorce. There’s a lot saying you’ve gone out of your way to insert yourself into the family, at a great cost. I think it’s very—”
Mom’s hands have been steepled over her nose, until she slams her hands down. “If you or those nosy little shits sitting on the Internet are offensive enough to believe I left my husband because my son decided to have a girlfriend, you can go to hell.” Mom points at Carla. “I don’t know where you’re getting your information, but stuff it back in whatever dark hole of bullshit you got it from.”
The table is silent for a moment. The attorneys pretend to look at their files and Margot tries to pull her aching hand out of Mom’s punishing grip while Neil and Sam look bored.
“I think if she lived on her own, it would show she isn’t using you.” Carla flutters her eyes, sending Rayne a sickening look of concern. “It would help you in the eyes of the public.”
“No,” I grind out, pulling my hand through my hair so hard it hurts. “You write the fucking happy words, but if you ever suggest—”
“Tyler.” Rayne’s broken sigh hurts.
Carla looks lost for a moment. “I’m just giving you my opinion.”
“Bullshit,” I snap. “You’re giving us the opinion of the same assholes who chased me all over campus and mocked up images to make it look like I was with them. The same kind of people who attacked her when we broke up. The people who scavenge for something to talk about like cockroaches. They don’t do anything useful; they just rip people apart. I’m not making decisions based on bottom-feeders.” After bending to kiss Rayne’s head, I slide my eyes to Carla again. “If you ever, and I mean ever, base recommendations on the rantings of trash again, consider yourself fired.”
Visibly shaken, Carla nods.
“The only reason to have any of you here is to help us get what we want. That’s it. Anyone else’s opinion doesn’t matter.”
Carla stiffens, then nods. “You should be aware that right after we released we were representing you, we got a call from LA Tonight. Your father’s sitting down with them tonight for a live interview.”
“What?” Mom and I burst out in the same breath.
“LA Tonight’s been working on a story for a while now, and they scored an interview with your husband,” she says to Mom.
Mom starts mumbling under her breath, and I’d bet it’s the same thing I’m thinking.
Fucking piece of shit!
“He wouldn’t…” Mom whispers.
Exhaustion at her willful blindness swamps me. I would almost bet worse things are coming. “Yeah, he would.” I turn to Carla. “We’ll watch, but understand this. The shit being said is bullshit, and we won’t bend to a campaign of lies.”
Her shoulders rise with her sigh. “Okay. Just understand it’ll be rough.”
Margot buts in, ignoring my glare. “Except it won’t just be you hurt, or her.” Her hand flicks at Rayne in dismissal. “It’ll be all of us. They’ll crucify us.”
“Get out.” Mom’s face is red, eyes squinting at Margot like she can zap her with laser-vision.
“What?” Margot turns to her.
“He was clear. You’re either on our side or you’re out.” Her face twists in disgust. “You’re not, so get the fuck out.”
“You can’t expect—” Margot’s hand goes to her chest.
Pointing to the door, I don’t let her finish. “I expect my family to help. Not do this.”
Mom swings the door open and gestures at her sister. The only sound is an inhale of indignation as Margot grabs her bag before storming out the door. Mom whispers something to her as she passes, making her whip around to me with a last outraged look.
“Great,” Mom says, coming to sit. “We can focus. Phil, your turn.”
Arnowsky doesn’t miss a beat. “Here’s an outline of the process and the issues we need to handle in the case.” He hands a folder to Rayne and me. “I need you two to read this thoroughly, answer every question the best you can by tomorrow afternoon. We’ll take a look and then come back and have a meeting with just the two of you.”
Rayne’s still pale but grabs the folder. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” Arnowsky says, his head shaking in sympathy.
The spot between Rayne’s brows is pinched so tight, I’d be surprised if she didn’t have a headache. Her whole face is drawn, her jaw clenching.
“Does anyone have anything else, because I think we’re done.”
I look around the room to see if anyone disagrees. No one does, and the group gathers their things. After goodbyes are done and Mom finally leaves, I wrap my arms around Rayne from behind, resting my chin on her head.
“It’ll be okay.”
Her head shakes as she sags in my arms.
“It will.”
“You don’t know that,” she says, rocking back against me.
“I do. Because if I have to take you to a private island until it is, that’s what I’ll do.”
“I don’t want to cause fights with you and your family. I don’t want—”
“Stop.” Spinning her around, and tipping up her chin so she’ll look at me, her pain lashes at me. Too much guilt litters her head. “You aren’t causing anything. My dad’s a dick because he’s always been a dick. That’s just the way it is with him. Margot…she’s been angry and jealous of my mom since they were kids. My mom wants you with us. My granddad supports this. We love each other. That’s what’s important.”
“My family is going to get their mud and shit all over yours.”
“Your family may wallow in shit, but you don’t. Corey doesn’t from what I’ve seen,” I point out. Kissing her forehead, I whisper against her skin, “You don’t need to worry about what anyone else thinks, just us.”
; Later, after the soft rhythm of her breaths and heat from her body puts me to sleep, it hits me that she brushed me off.
She’s not okay.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Rayne Mathews
The end-of-day light slips through the windows when I wake up from our nap, warm and surrounded. Tyler’s deep breathing is a slow metronome, hypnotizing and steady. I want to stay where I am, but my arms and legs need to move.
Slipping out of his arms, my spine unrolls, small pops in my vertebrae pull on the muscles, feeling good. Padding across the floor into the bathroom, the first thing I notice is half my face is pink from resting on his chest.
The blue of my eyes looks dull against the whites, lined with streaks of red. I don’t look like myself. I was so happy to be home, but I got hit hard.
He’s done so much already. Saving me. Standing by me when he had every reason to walk away. It’s too much. I don’t want to take any more from him. Stripping him of his reputation, energy, and goals is too much to ask of anyone.
It was different when I was…clean.
Tears come without consent and I splash my face. I can’t break down. The way forward isn’t lined with tears.
When the sound of the television filters through the apartment, I freeze, waiting to see if he comes in. Inhaling what little strength I have; I follow the commercial jingle back to the living room.
He’s flipped on the lights and is leaning forward over his knees, hands clasped. The sound of LA Tonight’s music only plays for a few seconds, before the anchor, Paradise Nixon, smiles at the camera, her serpentine-smile feeling just as shallow and slimy as most of what they air.
“Welcome back to LA Tonight; I’d like to introduce Mister Richard Blackman.”
The screen widens and Tyler’s spine goes rigid. His dad’s relaxed in a chair, navy suit jacket open to show off his chest like he’s a prize pony on display, but his face is covered in bruises, small bandages, and what appears to be a broken nose.
“While you may not have heard of Blackman Construction, one of the most successful owner-operated construction companies in Southern California, chances are, you have heard of homegrown sensation, Tyler Blackman, California University’s star wide receiver.”