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“I saw the video,” Trenton said, moving to the sideboard to pour gin into a glass. He set it on the coffee table in front of Malcolm before sitting on the couch arm beside Celia.
Malcolm stared at him. “How the hell did you do that?”
“Reggie called right after he called the cops.” Trenton shrugged. “He told them I was your lawyer when I rushed over.”
Trenton was a divorce attorney, not a criminal one. Still, it had often been true enough over the years, given the way Trenton had scraped him out of a few messes.
“The man you attacked was bragging about what he’d done to Jami. He relished the way he’d hurt her.” Trenton sighed, his eyes finding Celia’s. “There’s no judgment here, Mal. I might have done the same thing for the woman I love.”
Malcolm opened his mouth to deny it, but couldn’t.
Trenton had punched Celia’s ex for saying a lot less. His friend had surprised him at the time, but he understood that vein of protection existed in them both. Only it wasn’t just a vein in Malcolm. His fury often filled his entire body. He’d been tempted to track down Celia’s ex multiple times when he’d first heard her story. Reggie had sparred with him every day back then.
“You’ve always been quick to shut bastards down,” Blake said. “Hell, looking out for me over the years developed the habit. And it sounds like this guy did more to Jami than I ever went through with all those bullies.”
“The man admitted to setting the fire that killed her father,” Trenton said. “In a roundabout way that I’m not certain will stick. He also said he’d been forcing her into having sex with him.”
Jami had cried every time. The thought of it made Malcolm’s stomach twist. Just before Raneer had shown up, Malcolm had been teasing her in the tavern. It felt ridiculous now.
“Jami doesn’t see it as being forced,” Celia said.
“Fuck that shit,” Blake muttered, staring down at his lap, his expression one Malcolm hadn’t seen for quite a few years. Malcolm had his suspicions about Blake’s experiences while they were growing up, but he’d respected his friend’s need for privacy.
“I’m not sure whether you can understand.” Celia’s fingers gripped her rubber band. “That kind of intimacy isn’t always… good.” The rubber band stretched. “Sometimes the path of least resistance feels like having a choice. And then you try not to think about it, but the choice comes up again.” She closed her eyes. “And it’s easier to make each time.”
Trenton leaned down, his hands covering hers.
“I’m not saying it’s right,” Celia murmured. “I’m just saying you can’t tell her how to deal with it.”
“And it happens more than you’d think,” Trenton murmured, squeezing her hands. For the first time, Malcolm wondered what stories his friend had heard over the years as a divorce attorney.
Malcolm’s knuckles ached. “You guys aren’t making me feel very sorry for beating Raneer into the concrete.”
Blake glared at him. “You want to feel guilty, that’s on you.”
“There’s no blame here,” Trenton agreed, his eyes steady when Malcolm met them. “I can’t say it was legal, and you owe Borden for not adding ‘aggravated’ to the wording of the arrest. But each time you start to feel guilty, consider what would have happened had Jami gone with that man.”
Celia’s head came to rest against his shoulder again. “You take care of us, Malcolm. And I, for one, love you for it.”
Malcolm closed his eyes. Despite her words, the anger still sat in his chest.
“Jami will come back,” she said.
He didn’t expect it. He just hoped that wherever she was, she was safe.
Chapter 18
Jamihadneverrenteda car before and found it stressful. Not as stressful as riding on a plane would have been. She’d driven often enough since the accident, but she’d never enjoyed it. What should have been a two-hour drive to where her sister was performing stretched longer, and it didn’t help her nerves settle.
Now, though, Jami looked around the hotel suite while Skylar took a shower. Being there felt surreal. Her sister was a force unto herself.
It had been past dark before she arrived, but Mandy, Skylar’s manager, had smoothed the way for her to see her sister live in concert. Jami had fidgeted with the lanyard pass she’d been given. The beat of the music had vibrated through her behind the stage while she’d watched her sister perform for the first time, at least in person.
Skylar belted out her music. Her lyrics had always been angry, and her motions were the same, less like a dance and more an underscore of the words. Skylar showed more skin than Jami would ever be comfortable with, and sweat had glistened on her face and chest as the last note carried out over the roaring crowd.
The trip from the concert to the hotel was one big blur, kind of like the drive over had been. Jami’s insides quaked as she wondered how out of it she’d been behind the wheel.
Skylar came out of the bedroom still toweling her short hair dry. Despite the green streaks, it looked soft, much softer than the spikes she’d worn on stage. “I still can’t believe you came,” she said, flopping onto the couch beside Jami.
