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“He didn’t deserve to die.”
“No. He didn’t,” Matt agreed. The pain of losing his friend pierced him where he was already vulnerable. He’d never felt this raw, like a blade had scraped him from the inside out.
“His death was so senseless,” Grace’s voice hardened. “Makes me not regret that Ric killed that two-faced Cristiano. Does that make me a bad person?”
Matt glanced at her sharply. This was so unlike her to be so cold. If there was one thing about Grace, she saw the good in people. Just like that guy in Dallas who had helped the accountant.
Too much. This was getting too much for both of them. Something had to give.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Grace
It was only when we entered the loft that everything hit me: watching Roger and Troy getting gunned down in front of me, Cristiano kidnapping me, and my subsequent abduction by Ric, Elliot’s betrayal and his bloody end, and, finally, Ric’s mind games. There was no amnesia this time to delay the horrific events of those last twenty-four hours that hit me full-force. The emotional toll drained my energy. I stumbled a few steps at the threshold, feeling lightheaded.
My body began moving without me moving it. Matt had wrapped his arms around me and guided me to the couch.
He sat me down and crouched in front of me, concern written all over his face.
“Sit still. I’ll get you something to drink,” he said. Halfway toward the kitchen, he paused, and turned back to me. “Have you eaten anything?”
“Just that energy bar one of the deputies handed me,” I replied. My stomach was in knots. “Water is fine.” For now, at least.
Matt regarded me with grim contemplation before disappearing into the kitchen. He returned with a fruit yogurt cup and water.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Try a couple of bites. You might find your appetite,” he coaxed. He sat down beside me and pulled the foil top off the yogurt. He dipped a spoon in it and held it in front of my mouth.
“I can feed myself,” I protested, trying to grab the yogurt and spoon from him, but he kept them out of reach.
“Let me do this,” his voice scraped like gravel. “Please.”
I relented and I was surprised that after the first few bites of blueberry yogurt, my stomach settled better.
“I’m sorry I lost it in the car,” he said after I’d finished eating.
I tensed, waiting for him to say more.
His slate-blue eyes were intent. “We don’t have to talk about what happened tonight.”
“But you want to.”
A muscle ticked his jaw. “Yes. I was being unreasonable though. You’ve been through so much, and the last thing I should do is pressure you into telling me what had gone down with The Reaper.”
“You weren’t being unreasonable,” I said quietly. “Sometimes it’s better to rip off the Band-Aid.”
“Babe,” he said gently. “I was being unfair at least. You’re the one who that motherfucker terrorized …”
“It’s just as hard for those left wondering,” I countered. “Matt, I get you, and I thought …” I inhaled raggedly and shuddered. Ric carving on my skin was nothing compared to that one memory I numbed myself to, but if I could move forward from this, I had to tell Matt.
“Grace?”
Matt’s face was etched in tense, expectant lines, his eyes were warm and encouraging, albeit alert.
“He did things to me,” I whispered, meeting Matt’s gaze, but he remained remarkably stoic. And the words started flowing. I told him everything from the time I stabbed Ric and escaped him the first time, to when Elliot betrayed me.
“That son of a bitch,” Matt hissed. I stopped talking and he cracked his neck to one side as if to relieve some tension. “Please continue.”
