Page 74 of Flame
When I finally finish, Rafe is glowering at the floor, his jaw clenched, expression unreadable. I can’t move, sick with anticipation of how he might react.
In disgust?
Horror?
“Shit,” he hisses, grasping my hand. I go limp to find there is no judgment in his touch. No hate. Only warmth emanating from his fingers, radiating reassurance.
And my head swims with relief.
“I think he may have hurt Faith,” I say.
“Look at me.” Honed with intensity, his eyes bore into mine. “Were you going to let him get away with murder if he did do it?”
“No!” I say. But my voice sounds flat, even to me. I’ve let Branden get away with so much. And why? For one pathetic reason. “I thought… I thought it was my fault.”
Rafe scoffs. “Because he’s fucking brainwashed you.”
I don’t counter that. “But I don’t think he was working alone.”
He stands, crossing to the window. Watching him from this angle, I can fully appreciate his strength in every sense of the word. His size, his muscle, and namely his ability to think critically. To push through his own rage and betrayal and see the truth at the heart of the matter.
“Fine. So Shen’s dirty,” he says, glaring at the street below. “What do we do about it? He must have the cops in his back pocket.”
“Not all of them,” I say quickly. One person, in particular, comes to mind.
Rafe fixes me with a raised eyebrow. “Let me guess,” he says. “Your fake boyfriend?”
I try to ignore his obvious hostility. “I think he learned the truth about Bran too. Maybe he can reach out to someone else in the department? Someone your uncle doesn’t control.”
“It’s dumb,” Rafe says bluntly. “It probably doesn’t have a chance in hell of working. But we don’t have any better options. And… I trust you.”
I shiver at the heat in his voice, but I don’t allow myself the chance to decipher it. Instead, I fish through my bag and grab Liam’s business card.
With a harsh exhale, Rafe snatches it from me, withdrawing his own phone from his pocket. “We have nothing left to lose.”
