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“I told you I was an old friend of Alistair’s,” he cut in. “And that’s true enough.”

“Friends don’t hold blackmail over the other, just so you know. How the hell do you even know him, anyway? What did you do that he’s lording it over you?” I wasn’t stupid. Whatever it was, it had to be bad.

Rick was silent for a few moments. He leaned an arm on the door, running a finger along his chin. His brown hair was messier than it had been at the wedding, his green eyes thoughtful. A thick line of stubble graced his square jaw. I’d thought it before and I’ll think it again: he was a good-looking guy.

“Let’s just say twelve years ago, I made a mistake. I did something I shouldn’t have, based purely on selfish reasons.” Rick let out a sigh. “And he’s never let me forget it. He told me what he wanted me to do, and I did it. I’ve been doing shit for him ever since.”

I couldn’t exactly feel bad for the guy, since he’d lied to me by hiding the truth from me, but at the same time, I could see where he was coming from. Someone like Alistair, it was damn near impossible to go against him.

“You’re taking everything remarkably well, considering,” Rick commented. “I don’t know many people that would act how you are.”

My eyes fell to my wrist, or rather, to the sleeve covering the bandage. “Yeah, I know.” Since I could see the top of the bandage on my inner wrist, I tugged the sleeve down more. Long sleeves weren’t a favorite of mine, but I’d have to learn to like them for a while, at least until the cut healed. “I was supposed to be a present for Gareth.”

I didn’t know why I said it, but once the words were out, I couldn’t take them back. It was dumb; I sure as hell couldn’t trust Rick, but at the same time, he knew more about Alistair and Gareth than anyone else in town did. Telling him the truth—the truth that I couldn’t tell anyone else—felt good, if only to say it aloud to someone who wasn’t Gareth or Alistair.

Rick didn’t say anything for a while. “A present for the psychopath.” He let out a dark chuckle. “That’s almost funny, because he’s the whole reason I wanted to talk to you at the wedding.”

That got me to do a double-take in his direction. “What are you talking about?”

“I wanted to warn you. You were getting a new family, a new life, more money than you could’ve dreamed of… and a psychopath for a stepbrother. I wanted to warn you without outright saying it.”

“Looks like that was a pointless conversation, then.”

Rick glanced at me. “I wouldn’t say that.” It was all he said, and yet it sounded like those words held a hell of a lot more weight than they should’ve. “For what it’s worth, which probably ain’t much, I am sorry you got caught up in all this.”

With a sigh, I whispered, “Thanks.” Truth be told, I had the feeling I would’ve gotten wrapped up in something sooner or later; might as well be sooner to get it over with, right? Why not toss me into a family of psychos and see who came out the victor? Me, or Gareth and Alistair?

“How’s your wrist?”

Rick’s question stunned me into silence, and I blinked. “What… what do you mean?”

“Your wrist,” he said. “I was the one who got the call Saturday. The hospital might believe the lies Gareth and Alistair fed them, but I ain’t that stupid. That cut wasn’t an accident. You hit the artery, and the only reason you’re still here is because of Gareth.”

I didn’t know how to process what he was telling me. It took a long thirty seconds for me to say, “My wrist is fine.” I couldn’t say why, but I didn’t like the thought of Rick finding me unconscious in Gareth’s arms.

“Did you really want to kill yourself?” Such a blunt question, and yet Rick didn’t shy away from asking it, as if he deserved the answer.

We neared Montgomery Manor, and Rick was slow to pull off the side of the road, putting his hazards on. At least he pulled off to the side, unlike Gareth earlier, who’d just stopped in the middle of the lane.

“I don’t think it’s any of your business what I was trying to do,” I snapped, prickly about it, even now. The whole thing had been a waste of time if Gareth had killed Erin. And if he wasn’t the reason she was gone… I had no idea what that meant.

“No, I suppose it’s not,” Rick agreed.

Without saying another word, I unbuckled my seatbelt and grabbed my bag, pulling it onto my lap. I didn’t owe Rick any explanation for what I’d tried to do last Saturday. I didn’t owe anyone anything. I told him, “Thanks for the ride,” and then I got out of his car, slamming the door once I was out.

He held my stare for a while through the window, and then he turned his head and drove off, leaving me to finish the walk to the house myself.

Well, that whole thing hadn’t gone how I’d planned. Not even remotely. I couldn’t trust him, but I hoped the fact that he’d asked me to snoop around in the house meant he wasn’t going to tell Alistair I’d gone to him in the first place.

Rick wanted to get out from beneath Alistair’s thumb, and he wanted to use me to do it. I had no idea if I’d find anything in the house, but if I did… well, let’s just say that man better prove useful when it came to Erin, otherwise I might be inclined to keep whatever I found to myself.

That night, I found I couldn’t sit in my studio for long. Even though I’d cut my left wrist, it was still too draining to draw and paint on a canvas, so I had to call it a night earlier than I would’ve liked. I went to shower—hard to do when I couldn’t get the bandage or stitches wet yet—and then I changed into my pajamas and wandered over to my room.

Really, the house had been quiet when I’d gotten back. My mom had ignored me steadily, while Alistair had been locked away in his study. Gareth had been in the pool house, probably making a new painting using Erin’s blood.

Alistair had said there wasn’t a body in the pool house, told me as much when I was in the hospital, but how could I trust him? How could I know for sure there wasn’t a body in there unless I saw it for myself?

Silly me thought I’d have a quiet night, but when I stepped into my room, I found Gareth sitting on my bed, going through my sketchpad again. His head bent, he was intent on it, studying it as if each and every picture he saw in a new light, like he knew me better now than he had that first time.

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