“Bullshit. You’re quiet because everyone else in the room overpowers you. There’s no one else here now.” I give her a narrowed gaze that suggests she’s here, and she’s definitely overpowering. Laughing, Addy smacks my bicep. Then she sobers and leans back against the arm of the sofa, her pink hair slipping forward over one eye as she studies me. “Seriously, Clay. Are you alright? The whole menage thing, and Rhys’ history rearing up to consume us all. I just want to make sure your mental state is solid and that you still know your worth.”
“Are you flirting with me?” I raise a brow, a grin pulling at my mouth. Addy throws her head back and laughs. This time, it’s her boot that kicks my calf. She’s so violent when she’s being sincere.
“Stop deflecting! You’re dating my best friend. I just want to make sure you’re not going to flake on her.” The word ‘again’ is omitted, but I still hear it loud and clear. My smile slips slightly, but I recover quickly.
Owing it to Addy to consider her question properly, I stare at the racks across the room. Since I met Harper, not a single day has gone as planned, but I honestly wouldn’t change that for the world. She’s brought purpose to my life, as well as love, joy, fulfillment and against all odds, a friend in the form of Rhys.
It might not have been plain sailing, but Harper was faced with an impossible task. Even just getting Rhys and me in the same room was a huge feat. Now I think back on the timeswe’ve shared her, worked together to pleasure and care for her, to protect and love her. I feel nothing but ecstasy that I get to be a part of that. That she chose me, and never stopped fighting to have me in her life.
“I’m all good, I promise.” Addy narrows her eyes, considering my smile before she decides I’m being truthful. I figured she’d be pleased, but a frown pulls between her brows as she glances up at the ceiling.
“And Harper?” she presses, quieter now to keep our conversation private. “Because she’s trying really hard to fight battles that she should never have been a part of. I just hope that she still feels the same about Rhys when he doesn’t have any damage to be saved from.”
At this, my brows lift. Addy is worried that Harper has some sort of hero complex, and that’s the appeal Rhys holds for her? If that’s true, what does it mean for me? No, I stop myself from going down that rabbit hole. Harper never asked for any of this. All she’s ever wanted is peace, quiet and the chance to be cherished. She’s lost just as much as Rhys and I have, and people who have experienced trauma like us are bonded. All we want is love.
Sighing, I find that Addy is still watching me expectantly. I sigh and run a hand over my face.
“I’m not going to pretend I know what Harper saw in Rhys at the beginning, but…” I glance back toward the stairs, imagining Harper up there being gently bullied into couture. A small smile graces my lips. “I’m thankful she gave him a chance. He’s proving to be worthy of her, and that’s all I can ask of him. Regardless of what happens at this gala and afterwards, I’ll be here with her. I’ll catch her if she happens to fall, and I’ll keep her safe. I can promise you that.”
Addy’s gaze doesn’t waver, and for once, there’s no trace of humor in her features. “You better,” she nods, picking up theleftover pizza crust she dropped and pointing it at me. “Because if anything happens to Harper, I won’t need Arthur to destroy you. I’ll do it myself.” She holds my stare for a long beat, then tears the crust in half with her teeth.
“Comforting as always,” I reply, clearing my throat. Thankfully, a rasp sounds on the back door, and I am able to excuse myself from Addy’s deadly wrath. Cracking the door slightly, I peer at the two men standing on the back porch, as requested. The taller one flashes his police badge, and I usher them into the kitchen.
As stated on the phone, they don’t look like cops. No sunglasses or swagger. Just two men in plain clothes, one with lines etched deep around his eyes, and the other younger and apparently more watchful. He scans the room as I lock the door behind them, suddenly very aware that this situation is no longer hypothetical. This is happening.
“We good?” the older one asks, planting a large box onto the central island. The charging of feet on the stairs answers that question. Rhys and Harper swan into the kitchen as if they’re attending an award ceremony.
Harper stands in a black, sleek strapless dress that looks like it was poured onto her rather than worn, the fabric hugging every dangerous curve down to stunning diamante high heels. Scratch that, they’re possibly real diamonds. The clean line of her shoulders and throat draws my eyes upward, her skin glowing against the dark silk, and despite our present company, all I can think is that this woman, my woman, could walk into any room in the world and own it. Even a frat house kitchen.
“Gentlemen,” Rhys nods in greeting, also fully dressed with his tie, jacket and buttons all fastened. A miracle, I know. There’s no handshaking, but introductions are made.
“Detectives Mason and Kline. We received a request to visit ahead of a sting op. Glad to see you’re in your outfits, that’llmake things much quicker.” As Addy sees herself out, the mood shifts, the last scraps of humor stripped away as the detectives retrieve small pieces of equipment in the form of wires and recorders. The real armor beneath the silk and suits.
“We’ll keep this minimal,” Mason says, beckoning Rhys to step forward. “We want a clean audio source of the alleged crimes. The more you get him to say, the easier it’ll be to put him away.”
“Come up with that little rhyme all by yourself, did you?” Rhys raises a brow. Mason ignores him, holding up a wire against Rhys’ ridiculously expensive tie to work out the semantics of the placement.
“I was informed about a microphone clip? Can I see it?” At Mason’s request, Harper steps forward and produces both of them. Mason takes one and Kline takes the other, measuring a wire up to me. Rhys and I have already discussed that I will wear one as backup, but my priority is Harper. We would insist that she stay behind if we thought she’d listen.
The detectives work in silence for a few moments, figuring out the best way to hide the wires behind the mics. It makes sense, since we’ll be wearing them anyway. Harper watches, her hands wringing as she speaks.
“I was thinking my wire could hook behind?—”
“Absolutely not,” Rhys suddenly barks. The sound is harsh to all of us, as well as Harper’s receivers. She flinches, her face turning red. Just as I’m sure she’s about to spin away and rush back upstairs, Rhys’ entire body softens and takes her hand. “I didn’t mean it to come out like that. It’s just…This isn’t your fight,” he states, his blue eyes fiercely protective. “If we stand any chance of Arthur talking, it’s through me. I know how he thinks, I know how to push his buttons. I’ve been doing it my whole life.” Something dark flashes across his face, old wounds surfacing before he shoves them back down. “Arthur won’t talkto anyone else the way he’ll talk to me.” The detectives exchange a glance.
“That’s a hell of a gamble,” Mason pitches in unhelpfully.
“I’ve been gambling my whole life,” Rhys shrugs as if it’s nothing. Harper’s mouth presses into a thin line, and something tightens in my chest, but neither of us tries to persuade him otherwise.
Knowing Rhys, he’s been plotting this since the night he stayed with his parents. Hell, maybe Phillip helped him plan it. I wouldn’t know, since Rhys hasn’t said much about the night. He only returned with a quiet resolve that seems to be unshakable. He’s going to finish this, and I’m not wholly convinced he’s planning on walking out of it unscathed.
In our five-way standoff, Harper searches Rhys’ face, conflict warring amongst her features. Fear and trust and love all tangled together until I’m not sure how she’s standing upright. Eventually, she comes to her conclusion.
“You’re going to get him to hurt you.” It’s not a question. It’s a cold, hard fact. I glance at Rhys, noting the truth of it written all over his face. Shifting his focus to where he’s holding her hand, his thumb brushes her wrist delicately.
“I’ll still make sure he talks first, but I’m not doing this without absolute certainty that he’s going down for a long, long time. I want my mom to come out of hiding and get the real care she needs. I want my dad to step into the light and take back what was his.”
“And what do you want, Rhys?” Harper asks carefully. The revelation that Rhys is going to let Arthur beat him one last night isn’t sitting well with any of us, but Harper can’t hide her emotions. She’s silently fuming. When it seems like Rhys isn’t going to answer, I step in before the room collapses under the weight of tension.
