“I was fourteen.” I shrugged. “And I am a girl. We tend to get emotional when sex is involved.”
His eyes narrowed. I cleared my throat and looked away. “At any rate, Phoenix told my dad he found us in bed together, and that’s where the story ends.”
“And the scar?” He grabbed my wrist.
I tried to pull away.
“Mil—” Chase’s teeth ground together. “Tell me all of it. Now.”
“He was upset.” My body convulsed at the memory. “Please don’t make me say it—”
“Damn it, Mil, did he touch you? Did he do this to you?” He grabbed my wrist hard in his hand, his eyes wild with fury.
I nodded. “He beat me and then he used a knife to cut this scar into my wrist, he finished it off with a branding on top of the scar, burning it against my skin, covering what he did. He said I was a marked woman, that anyone who saw this scar would know who I should have belonged to. He said it was only a matter of time—”
I choked on my words. “Only a matter of time before I was killed. He said I ruined everything. He called me a damn Helen of Troy and laughed.” Hot tears ran down my cheeks. “He laughed the entire time he cut the scar on my wrist, no matter how many times I screamed or yelled. Nobody came. Nobody saved me. I was fourteen, Chase. I thought that’s how life worked, just like the movies… someone hurt me, but the person I cared about the most would rescue me. I kept thinking of your face, but the door never opened. The next day he sent me to an all girls academy.”
At Chase’s sharp intake of breath I knew it was time to get out of the tub. The story was finished. He either accepted the truth as it was — or dug further. I preferred for him to let it go.
I tried to stand.
Chase gripped my wrist and held me firmly against his body. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Chase—”
His mouth silenced any sort of complaint I would have had. When he pulled back, his eyes darkened. He cursed and let me go. “We need to contact Tanya.”
“I know,” I said in a small voice. “She was my mom’s only friend after the separation. She never forgave Phoenix’s dad for sending me away. And I never forgave him for making it so the first and last time I talked to my mom in years. And now she’s dead.”
Chase cleared his throat. “The sooner we get to the bottom of this the better everything will be, okay?”
I nodded, not feeling very confident. Where did it end? With Tanya? With Campisi? Did he even have the power to make everything go away?
“Text her.” Chase kissed my temple. “Tell her you want to meet. Tell her something bad happened and you need her help.”
“Okay.”
Wordlessly, Chase rose from the bathtub and wrapped me in a towel, drying me off as if I was nothing but a small child. I’d never been taken care of so tenderly before. Nobody had ever cared. Nobody had ever even touched me as much as Chase did. I’d always thought I was one of those people who didn’t need physical touch. You know, almost like there was something wrong with my body, because every time a guy hit on me, all I wanted to do was slit his throat. But when it came to Chase, it wasn’t ever enough. It was terrifying how much I craved him, how much my body had come to depend on him, and how much my heart needed his consistent encouragement to keep beating strongly.
Once I was dry, I threw on a bathrobe and walked out into the main living area. My sleek iPhone mocked me as it stayed charged on the nightstand. Before I could punk out, I grabbed it and sent a quick text to Tanya.
Me: Something went horribly wrong. Can we meet tomorrow morning?
I waited, anxious for her response. Sweat pooled at my temples as the phone burned against my hand. Finally the text alert went off, her text flashed in front of me.
Tanya: Not a good idea.
Me: I don’t care if it’s not a good idea! My mom’s dead!
Two minutes later my cell phone lit up again.
Tanya: You’re right. My apologies for being so insensitive. Where would you like to meet?
I chewed my lower lip. Public places were always best.
Me: The Golden Nugget Night Club. 1 hour.
Tanya: Done.
Shaking, I put the phone back on the desk and massaged my temples. One hour before I was meeting the wife of Campisi. And there was a fifty-fifty chance she was responsible for everything that had gone to hell in the past twelve hours.
No other explanation would come.
We were stuck.
Going home meant waiting it out until someone planted a car bomb or tried to shoot me in the head. I’d always been the type of girl to face danger head-on. I didn’t like hiding, and I wasn’t about to now.
A text alert went off. I picked up my phone, but it wasn’t mine that had gone off. Not thinking, I walked over to the opposite nightstand where Chase’s phone was. I clicked on it and was given the privilege of seeing the last three text messages.
All from Nixon.
Each one making me sicker than the last as I read.
“Ask her about her scars?” I repeated out loud. “Get her to trust you?” Shaking, I read the last one. “Chase, do whatever it takes, and I do mean whatever it takes.”
I dropped the phone onto the bed and barely made it to the trashcan before I threw up the strawberries Chase had just hand-fed me. It was as if they’d gone sour in my stomach. I tried to keep the hot tears from pouring down my cheeks. But they came anyway, mixing with my spit and falling into the trashcan, mocking me with every salty drop that fell from my face.