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When he pushed to his feet to scowl down at her, El cringed up at him and started to wring her hands. “I started to get all these hateful texts from the other women in the group who must’ve heard about, you know, the second time.”
“Shit.” Bella lifted her hand and winced, admitting, “That might’ve been my fault.”
But El waved her worries aside. “I knew why you did it, but it did make me pause, wondering if anyone would even believe me if I suddenly came up with the I-was-drugged story. And then, in the room where I was waiting to take all the tests, they had a television on to keep me entertained, except the news on it was reporting this famous actress who’d accused one of her directors of sexual assault. And I watched all these people who hadn’t been there and had no idea what had really happened just sitting around a table, discussing whether or not to believe her. Some did without question, and some called her the ugliest and most vile names. I felt sick to my stomach, wondering what everyone was going to say about me. I ran out of the hospital before finishing my interview. A detective called me a week later, telling me I had tested positive for having Rohypnol in my system. She wanted me to come in and talk again, give her more information and file charges, but I just couldn’t do it anymore, so she told me she’d leave the case open, and that I could go to her whenever I was ready.”
“Well, hell. Let’s call her now,” I said, sitting upright.
But Bella gripped my wrist and sent me a pleading glance. “But everyone will know. They’ll ask why I never figured it out and think I’m an idiot for—”
“Bells,” I choked out, cupping her cheek. “No. No one will think—”
“How do you know that?” she accused. “Hell, I’m thinking it. Why won’t anyone else?”
“Well, fuck everyone else. Their opinions don’t matter.”
“Except they do,” El cut in softly. “Whether it’s from a friend or a complete stranger, negative comments will eat at you and make you question yourself and send you into a nasty decline. And when you’re already dealing with something so personal and traumatizing, it’s just too much. I didn’t want to publicize it and turn my most horrible experience into some kind of media circus just to get justice. I couldn’t handle that kind of attention. And I can’t blame any woman who would want to keep it private.”
“You really gotta admire the ones that do stand up, though,” Bella agreed on a nod.
El glanced knowingly her way. “Yeah.”
“So, what?” I argued, shaking my head, gaping between them. “He’s just going to get away with what he did? Fuck no. I can’t accept that. And think about all the other women he’s no doubt victimized since you two. And before that. It feels like we’re just allowing him to keep doing this if we say nothing.”
“You sure didn’t talk like this the first time I told you my story,” El murmured, eyeing me thoughtfully.
“Yes, I did,” I argued on a frown. “The absolute first thing I told you was that you should report it to the police and then find a counselor, not a damn life coach. And you said no, so I didn’t push. I helped you as best I could. But now I have a name and a face to go with this fucker, and then I learn he also hurt the love of my life, so yeah, sorry-not-sorry, but I suddenly want him to pay. Very badly.”
“You helped us heal, Parker. That’s its own brand of justice right there. He might’ve made us victims, but we didn’t have to stay that way. And you—you gave us the hand we needed to stand back up again.”
“Yes,” Bella said, pressing her fingers over my heart and showing her appreciation for that with her gaze. “And so did—” But when she glanced up, her smile died. “Guys? Where’s Gracen?”
“Oh no,” Yellow gasped, lurching to her feet. She covered her mouth with both hands as she glanced around the kitchen. “But he was right here.” She spun toward Bella and me. “You don’t think he—?”
Except we all knew he had.
“Fuck,” I muttered, not sure if I was more upset about the fact that he hadn’t taken me along with him on his mission of murder or that I was going to have to stop him from killing someone I didn’t want to stop him from killing.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Gracen
Ethan wasn’t home. The fucker.
I stood outside his door, frowning at it, with my hands on my hips, wondering what to do next. I really couldn’t wait until he returned before I killed him, though. He’d already gotten away with what he’d done for over a year now.
Sighing out my aggravation, I yanked my phone from my pocket and ignored the incoming messages from Bella and Fox. I didn’t have any from Yellow, probably because we hadn’t gotten to the point where we’d exchanged numbers yet.
We definitely needed to do that.
But later.
Typing into the search box for my contacts, I hissed, “Yes,” when I found the fucker’s name. I knew being lazy and forgetting to delete certain people from my address book would come in handy someday.
I clicked on his profile and snorted when I saw the last two messages we’d sent to each other. He’d asked if we could still be friends even though he and my sister hadn’t worked out.
My answer had been: Fuck off.
Grinning, I clicked into his information. He’d shared his location with me once when he and Bella had gone to some wedding in this bizarre, remote location. Bella had worked late and been unable to ride there with him, so I’d driven her up later and was having a hell of a time finding him, so—
