Stanford Davenport.
My breath caught.
Anticipation simmered in my gut.
My heart battered my ribcage as Kill hovered the mouse over the file. “Do it,” I blurted.
A tangle of fear and curiosity raged across his brilliant emerald irises. An invisible war was being fought just below the surface. I could sense his emotions as clearly as my own.
One click could change everything.
“Please, Killian.” I moved my hand over his, urging him on. “It’s time you faced the truth.”
He gritted his teeth, the tendon in his jaw fluttering. Slowly, his head dipped, and his finger dropped to the mouse.
The file opened, revealing dozens of MP3s.
He scrolled down, my stomach tightening with each name.
Killian stopped on a name, eyes widening.
Alexis.
His jaw nearly unhinged. “No, it can’t be...”
My pulse skyrocketed, the roar of my blood thundering across my eardrums. The room swam.
The scent of cigars and leather and expensive cologne flooded my nostrils.
There was a video. That sick fuck had a video of me... Would it be from all those years ago, or was it something else?
“Open it now, Killian.” I barely recognized my own voice. Blinding fear tore through my body as I stared at the video icon.
Killian’s expression darkened, harsh lines carving into his handsome face. “If that motherfucker taped you?—”
My hand jutted out and snatched the mouse from Killian’s hold.
Before I could chicken out, I double-clicked.
CHAPTER 43
THE UGLY TRUTH
Killian
A trickle of icy sweat slinked down my nape as the video on Bass’s computer loaded, the inside of Stan’s Mercedes from a few years ago coming into view. Instead of facing the road, the dashcam was angled towards the leather seats, mainly the passenger side.
Why would he do that?
There was no reason to record the interior of the car, unless...
I watched as Stan put the car in park and rolled down the window. “Where are you going?”
A faint voice sounded from outside. “To the high school, three exits down the road.”
Lexi stiffened in my lap, fine tremors rippling through her body. “Oh my God,” she whispered as the color drained from her face. “This is...”
And then a sixteen-year-old Lexi slipped into Stan’s passenger seat, dropping her bag on the floor and nervously tugging at the hem of her jean skirt.
