“Thank Christ for that,” Ian muttered.
“I think that pissed him off, that no one wanted what he did. His temper only grew from there and he took it out on me. If I didn’t show up at the club, he would come to my house. One time he went to my job, told me he would make my life a living hell if I didn’t come back. By then, Everly was living with me and I didn’t want him going to the house, so I went back to the club again and again.
“He learned about Everly somehow, threatened to hurt her. He even showed up at the house one night. Everly was already in bed. He raped me in the living room, told me if I didn’t do what he wanted, she would soon learn what it was like. I told him not to come back, that I would only do it if we could meet at the club. He agreed.
“I hated him, but I wasn’t willing to risk Everly. Then Heaven moved in and I think that tipped him over the edge. He started accusing me of fucking them. His anger intensified; his threats became more violent. Then back in March, I went to the club. I talked to the manager, told him I was canceling my membership. He asked me why. I told him I didn’t feel safe. He brushed it off, called me a pussy. Before I could get out of there, Roger arrived. I decided to stand up to him.”
The memory of that night had my hands shaking.
Ian’s arms came around me from behind, holding me together. I hadn’t been aware he’d moved, but I was grateful for the comfort he offered. I gripped his forearms, clung to them. His strength was the only thing I had in that moment.
“Finish the story,” Ian rasped, his chin resting on my head.
I nodded. “We went to a room for privacy. He locked us in. I told him I was leaving the club, that I didn’t want this anymore. And I guess…” I inhaled, exhaled, felt light-headed.
“Breathe,” Ian whispered near my ear, his arms still securely around me. “You’re safe.”
I shuddered. “He must’ve drugged me. The next thing I knew, I was chained to a bed. Not at the club. It was an apartment. Turned out it wasn’t too far from my house. Anyway. I woke up and I hurt. Everywhere.” I swallowed back the emotion that churned. “I needed a hospital. He had beaten and raped me. Repeatedly. While I was unconscious.”
“Holy fuck,” Ian hissed, his arms tightening around me. He didn’t let go and I held on to him.
“I heard him talking on the phone. I don’t know who it was, but he was pissed when he hung up. Ended up unchaining me. Told me if I went to the cops, he’d come after Everly and Heaven. Said he would be in touch.”
“That was three months ago?”
“Yes. I didn’t hear from him for a while. Then I got a few text messages. I always messaged back, told him I was busy. I didn’t want him hurting them, but I refused to see him again. I had gone to the doctor once I’d healed, gotten tested. Being in the clear felt like a new beginning and I didn’t want to risk that. Then he texted me a couple of nights before he attacked Everly. I told him I was busy. He didn’t respond. I thought nothing of it, hoping he’d found someone else who interested him.” I sighed. “Clearly I was wrong.”
So fucking wrong.
TWENTY-ONE
IAN
When Dante asked if he could be alone, I couldn’t deny him.
That story had taken a hell of a lot out of him. Out of me, too.
And while I would’ve held him for the rest of the day and all through the night, I knew that wasn’t what Dante needed. The man thrived on having his own space, being able to make his own decisions, process his emotions in his way. It had been taken from him for so long, I understood.
Isaac had returned to the house and I’d filled him in on the details. He’d had the same reaction I did. Sympathy for the hell Dante had been through and rage directed at the bastard who deserved to burn in hell for what he’d done.
“Have you heard back from Ransom?” Isaac asked when we slipped down to the basement while Everly cooked dinner.
“No.”
“Maybe you should call him again,” he suggested, his attention on his computer.
It wouldn’t matter, I knew. I didn’t need to hear from Ransom, to even know if Ransom’s buddy had come through with information. It wouldn’t matter. Not with this guy. Vernon Hathaway had more money than God, had gotten away with this since he was a goddamn teenager.
No way was he going to stop.
