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“Yeah, Wilder. Didn’t he say it went on for years?”
“Yeah, he did.”
I blow out a breath. “And...Wilder is huge now. Massive. He’s a million miles from that scrawny boy. Imagine what a kick Wren would get from thinking he’s got a man like that to beg him. To go down on his knees for him again, this time for money.”
Rafferty twists his lips as he considers this. “I don’t know. I still think you might be the better bet.”
I shrug. “We can’t make a decision about something on this scale without the others, anyway. Why don’t we have a meeting tonight?”
“Sounds like a plan. I’m worried about Honor, too,” he adds.
“Me too. She’s...despondent and then almost high.”
“Shock and grief. I expect she’s reliving her grief for her mother now that Don is dead. Plus, she’s not seen anything like that before—the level of violence.”
“Oh, I don’t know, she saw her own mother with her head bashed in, bleeding out.”
He sighs. “Yes, and that is horrific, but we’ve piled trauma on top of that. And while Don might not have raped her, what she went through was still abuse, and we know how that feels. I know we had to save her, but hell, it got bloody.”
“Maybe she just needs a distraction.” I grin.
He frowns. “Or that might be the very last thing she needs.”
“Well, why don’t we ask her?”
He nods and purses his lips. “I suppose we could.”
“Lady’s choice,” I say.
He laughs softly. “Lady’s choice.”
Chapter Eighteen
Honor
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