“I know.” He releases me. “I’m going to go check on them. Finish up out here and get cleaned up.”
I nod, clearing my throat as Jefferson approaches. “I already got Laiken’s statement. Rhodes will be taken in tonight. Just so you know, he’s already requested his lawyer.”
Of course he has.
“Thanks, I appreciate it.”
When he leaves, I face Cooper and Ryder.
Ryder meets my eyes. “He won’t stop till he’s dead.”
It’s not a question, but a statement. One we all know is true.
Chapter forty-three
Laiken
I press a kiss to Trace’s head.
“Come on, cowboy. Let’s find some cookies.” Ivy takes him by the hand, leading him into the kitchen.
I keep glancing out the window, waiting for Parker to come inside. He’s still on the porch with my brother, Cooper, and Ryder. A part of me is a little nervous about what they’re talking about. The other part almost hopes they deliver the punishment Rhodes deserves. Maybe he’ll actually get it tonight. Maybe this time he’ll stay behind bars.
I close my eyes, dropping my face into my hands. I replay the entire interaction. Wondering if I was wrong to even open the door. Wondering if I should have ignored him. I thought I could handle it. I didn’t want to drag anyone else into my mess.
Sitting here in the quiet, his confession slams into me. He admitted to drugging me. Admitted he knew exactly what he was doing. That nausea is back again. The sickness that comes with knowing danger that close and personal. I roll his words around for the hundredth time.
Take a good look at him next time he’s on top of you. Remind you of anyone?
The door closes, and I lift my head to see Parker slip inside, heading straight for the bathroom. He’s got a clean T-shirt in his hand. I push to my feet, following him down the hall. He steps inside, but I catch the door before he can close it.
“Hey.”
He stiffens, turning his back to me. “I don’t want you to see me like this, Laik.”
I ignore him, wedging my way inside before closing it behind me. “Look at me.”
He hesitates before finally turning to face me. Bloody shirt and all.
“Let me.” I open the cabinet and grab a washcloth. “Sit.” I motion to the toilet seat.
He does as I say, silence blooming between us.
Running the cloth under some warm water, I watch him through the mirror. His head is hung low.Shameon his face.
I wring out the cloth. “Give me your hands.”
I crouch down, taking his battered hands in mine.
Gently, I clean the dried blood.
“I’m sorry you and Trace saw that,” he whispers.
I pause, then turn my gaze to his. “What I saw was a man protecting the people he loves.”
He shakes his head. “I—”
“No.” I stop him. “If you hadn’t shown up…”
