Page 37 of Chasing Bandit

I crossed my arms over my chest, “I’d do anything for my family. Anything. You can be selfish and arrogant. If I explain to you how I’m in this situation, you’ll look at me differently.”

“You think that little of me? You really think I wouldn’t do anything for my family? Why the hell do you think I agreed to this marriage? To save my family and preserve the Cameron legacy. You want to tell me I know nothing of sacrifice for family? Who the hell do you think kept this damn family together when my mom died over ten years ago? Because it sure as shit wasn’t my brothers and dad. Clay probably doesn’t even remember it because he was only 10 years old, but when mom died, I was the one who had to step up and step in as the man of the house. My dad checked out emotionally, mentally and most days, physically as he buried himself in work. And though he was sober and never dated seriously again, that didn’t mean he didn’t keep a lady nearby if you know what I mean. I had to keep Cameron ranch running while also making sure my dad and Clay didn’t fall apart so much that they couldn’t come back from it. Clay’s homework, getting to school on time and not skipping, that shit fell on me, Stevie.”

He took a deep breath, his eyes flashing with anger, and my heart tightened as I realized the immense pressure weighing on his shoulders and how my doubt must have affected him.

“Don’t talk to me about not understanding familial responsibilities and the pressure that comes with being the first born. The world is on your shoulders and it’s a damn expectation, not a suggestion, for you to carry it without a please, thank you, or a reward. I drank myself to oblivion during that time and buried myself in women every night so that I didn’t have time to sit and think about all the shit that was on my shoulders because if I did, I’d crumble just like Dad did in his room upstairs, Clay did at school and Nash did hiding out in Houston. But if I crumbled, it wasn’t just them I’d let down, it was all of the employees we pay a salary to that were depending on us here in the city.”

He stepped closer to me, passion, and anger radiated off his body as I felt the exchange of heat flow through him to my heart.

“I may seem selfish now because for the last few years of my life, I’ve finally been able to be selfish. To enjoy myself now that Clay’s all grown up and my dad’s not distracting himself trying to forget my mom. I missed most of my 20s because I was the man of the house keeping shit together so don’t ever fucking tell me again that I don’t understand doing what you have to do for the ones you love, Stevie.”

He stepped back, as if gathering himself against rising anger, running a hand through his tousled brown hair.

“So, you want to tell me what’s got you scared shitless by a man with rapist eyes, or do I need to employ other means to get it out of my wife?”

I swallowed, wondering what those other means would be and unsure if I was ready for the judgment and pity that I knew would surely come as soon as I opened up to him about my past.

“I hate that I look so pitiful to you right now. That I was so defenseless minutes ago and needed you to save me. I've never been able to defend myself against Charles,” I whispered.

Wylie stepped closer, his large hand now gentle as he cupped my cheek, his strong thumb tracing down my jawline and across my swollen lips, bruised by Charles's punishing kisses.

"You tell me what he did to you, Stevie, and I swear you'll never feel defenseless again. You don't have to be ashamed of looking vulnerable in front of me because, even without knowing the details, I already know you're the strongest woman I've ever met. Now tell me what that fucker has on you before I yank him out of the freezer and strangle his frozen body with my bare hands.”

Chapter 27 – Stevie

I nodded, my chin quivering under his touch.

"Twenty years ago, when my dad passed away, our family struggled. My mom was a kindergarten teacher and, though her pay wasn't great, it was enough to keep the mortgage paid and the utilities on. I was only eleven when he died, but I remember it all better than Jovie does. Mom went on food stamps and WIC, and we often relied on the food bank and shelters for meals." I swallowed, bracing myself to continue with the rest of my shame-filled story.

“One summer day, Jovie and I were running through the streets of Houston like we always did when my mom was at work running summer camps. We were hungry and hot, and I saw some ice cream at a shop that I wanted but couldn't afford. I convinced Jovie to come with me to steal it. It started out small, stealing ice cream, candy, things that I didn’t think anyone would notice was missing but eventually, we upgraded. This went on for five years until I turned 16 and got greedier.

“I’d hit puberty that summer and none of my clothing fit me anymore. My mom wouldn’t take me shopping because she couldn’t afford to, but my clothing was two sizes too small, and I was starting to get picked on at school. Jovie told me it wasn’t a good idea, but I did it anyways, and started stealing from a few of the big department stores downtown. Clothing, shoes you name it, I was stealing it and truly, without remorse. I thought because we were hitting the bigger stores, no one would notice, and that was true for a little while.” I swallowed again.

“When school restarted in the fall, a boy from my class named Charles cornered me one day in an empty classroom. I didn’t know him well; he was a grade above me, but he told me he knew what me and my sister were doing. I played dumb, obviously, until he told me his dad owned the big box store chain we’d been stealing from, and he got Jovie on camera shoving bras and underwear down her shirt just last week.”

My eyes welled with tears as my gaze shifted downward, “I was so scared. He threatened to tell my mom, his dad, and the police. My mom would have been mortified but worse than that, she couldn’t have afforded any sort of legal representation and Jovie could have been sent to juvenile detention. That’s when he offered an alternative for his silence...”

Wylie's eyes narrowed, his lips forming a thin line as he stared at me. I could see the realization dawning in his eyes, and though I dreaded saying it out loud, I knew he needed to hear it.

"What did he tell you to do, Stevie?" he asked quietly.

I took a shaky breath, “His operation was small. He said he had a dealer in the city that he was getting the drugs from, and he needed some pretty faces to push it at the high school. I felt like I didn’t have a choice in the matter, so I did it. I hated it. I did that through the rest of my high school years anytime he’d call me. Things snowballed from there and turned sexual between us. Once he graduated from high school and went away for school, I didn't see him for a while and thought I was finally free. I went to college and felt like I'd escaped his control. When I graduated, I got a job and accidentally ran into him and his new girlfriend, one of my best friends from high school, at a restaurant in Houston. I managed to avoid him for close to eight years until he showed back up one day at my apartment. I let him in, and he raped me.”

I took another shaky breath, watching as Wylie's jaw clenched even tighter. The only person I had ever confided in about this was my therapist, and it had taken two years of sessions to finally mention the rape. My eyes remained fixed on the ground as I began to speak.

“I told his fiancé, my best friend, and she responded by accusing me of lying and being jealous. It fucked me up good. I thought I could report it, but his family is in Texas politics and friends with the entire police force. No one would have believed me or done anything about it because their intentions are always to protect their own. Now he only comes around on holidays and when he does, it easier for me to have sex with him then ignore or fight him because I know he’ll stalk me to get what he wants, and then it won’t be on my terms.”

I stole a glance at Wylie through my tear-stained eyes as he brought his hand to my jawline again, cupping my cheek gently. “Is this the same guy who was in your apartment when I showed up after Thanksgiving?”

I nodded as his hand dropped from my cheek to his own jaw where he rubbed, deep in thought.

“I did what I had to do to keep my sister from getting in trouble and sent away when we were teens. The amount she stole was over the limit for a felony and even as a first offense, he said he had months' worth of footage of Jovie and I stealing. With his parents' connections and my mom's limited financial resources, we would have been screwed.”

Wylie kept stroking the stubble on his jawline repeatedly, his demeanor eerily calm. I knew him well enough to recognize that this composed exterior masked a lethal blend of intelligence and controlled anger. When Wylie Cameron's mind and fury worked in tandem, he could be truly dangerous.

He stepped towards me again, so close that our chests were brushing, “He extorted you into pushing drugs and having sex with him for years. He took advantage of you, your innocence and your loyalty to your sister and his family's power. You sleep with him because it helps you feel in control.”

My eyes dropped to his fists, which were clenching and unclenching as his jaw tightened with anger. I had seen Wylie angry plenty of times, but never like this. He looked like he was about to explode, and his statements weren't questions for me.

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