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“Becky broke a lamp in the formal living room, and I was cleaning it up. After she screamed at me, she ran outside. I wanted to give her some time to cool off before I spoke to her, so I cleaned up the mess. Instead of dumping the broken pieces into the trash, I thought it would be safer to take them straight to the can in the alley. When I reached the container, I saw some guy had her at gunpoint. I called the cops and stayed on the phone with 911 until help arrived.”
“You saw the whole thing?” Jace asked, running a hand over his short hair.
“Yeah, and this has definitely been a fucked-up evening. We’re probably safest down here until the cops take care of the situation. He’s completely surrounded, I just don’t want Becky ...” His sad eyes connected with mine.
“It’s all my fault.” If Becky died, I would feel like shit, and Holden would never forgive me. I wasn’t even sure if he’d forgive me for leading Billy, and ultimately Logan, to his house, either.
“Why is this your fault?” Holden looked at me quizzically.
“I need my backpack, then I can explain everything to you all at once.” I sank onto Mallory’s bed, my body trembling.
“I’ll get it,” Brynn offered and squeezed my shoulder.
“Thanks.” I hated being helpless. It fucking sucked. If I hadn’t been a dumbass and ran out in front of a car, I would have been able to catch a bus and head back to Coeur d’Alene and the homeless shelter.
“I wonder what’s happening.” Jace shoved his hands into his jean pockets, and fear etched into his expression.
“Nothing as of thirty seconds ago,” Brynn said, entering the room again with my bag.
“Thanks.” I unzipped it and dumped the items on my bed.
“What are you looking for?” Holden asked while he narrowed the gap between us and eyed my belongings.
“They had to have tracked me. Nothing else makes sense.” I squeezed my eyes shut as I mentally reviewed everything Shirley and Ed had given to me. “Dammit.” I grabbed the cell phone. I powered it on and waited until I saw Shirley’s number. “Do you have a pen and paper?”
Holden opened a drawer in the nightstand and produced what I’d asked for. I jotted Shirley’s contact information down, then went to work. “How do I get this damned thing open?” I searched for a way to pop open the back, but I was too rattled.
“Let me.” Holden held his hand out while Brynn and Jace watched quietly.
Holden popped the back off, and a small circular device fell to the floor. He collected it, then held it up to the light. “Son of a bitch. It’s a tracker.” He lowered his arm slowly, his icy gaze landing on me. “What the fuck? Did you know someone was looking for you?”
Jace gently squeezed Holden’s shoulder, attempting to calm him.
“Yes, but I had no idea about the tracker. I swear,” I whispered. “I’ll leave.” I stood and moved to the door, but Brynn blocked my path.
“No, River. You won’t. Holden needs to know the truth, and so do we. You need to tell us who you really are and what the hell is going on.”
Chapter Twelve
I’d spent all of my nineteen years walking on eggshells in an attempt to stay alive. Dan had beaten me within an inch of my life more times than I could count, but this … The tease of a different life and actual friends was at my fingertips, but still just out of my reach. I should have known my past would catch up with me. Even I had to admit I didn’t belong here, in this house, or with these people who had been kind to me.
Three pairs of eyes stared in my direction, burning a hole right through me. The pain seared my soul, leaving me breathless as I scrambled to explain to them.
“A little over forty-eight hours ago, my guardian of sixteen years raped me ... and not for the first time.” The tension in the air was heavy, but I owed them the truth before I left.
“Dan,” Holden whispered, putting all of the bits and pieces of information together while Brynn’s hand flew to her mouth.
“The bruises on your face were from him?” Jace asked.
I nodded.
“Where was your mom?” Brynn frowned.
“She disappeared when I was three.” My chest ached as the few memories that I had of my mom consumed me, twisting my emotions, then blowing them apart.
“He was an alcoholic and addict, and he beat me on a regular basis.” I glanced up at the ceiling for a moment, collecting more courage. “After he’d passed out on the couch, I packed what I could fit into my backpack. I was literally at the front door when he woke up and caught me. I hightailed it out of the trailer we lived in and ran, but he kept up pretty well. I hurried down a hill and to my favorite oak tree, then climbed it to hide.”
My blood thundered through my head as I continued. “Billy, the man who has a gun to Becky’s temple, is Logan’s right-hand guy.” I attempted to regulate my racing heartbeat. “Logan has a Doberman named Killer—”
