Angie’s laugh is laced with amused cynicism. “Really? I’ve seen the gossip rags, ‘Winsome Ward.’”
I cringe. “Stop. Just stop. Honestly, I spend most of my nights at home reviewing contracts. If I led the life they implied I did, don’t you think Carys would have…” Just mentioning my sister’s name makes my mind whirl back to the beginning.
Don’t play around with her.
“Carys knew.” It’s a statement, not a question. The warnings, the locked employee files. Was Carys protecting me, Angie, or us both?
“Yes. When I hired on at Wildcard, I accepted the position and then was completing the paperwork for my background check. When I came to the question about whether or not there was anything in my past that could prevent me from being hired, I asked your sister for a meeting, and I told her the whole story.”
“What did she say?” How could my sister let me associate with men she suspected were sexual predators, even if by then it was only at the occasional party I saw them at or while clubbing at Redemption? My mind is whirling at the implications of this for all of us.
“I never explicitly told her the names, though it wouldn’t surprise me if it came up in my background check. It didn’t take Becks long. He recognized me from photos years ago.” Angie admits.
A whoosh of air escapes my lungs. “That’s why you were so scared in the store shopping.”
“Yes. There’s been a lot of coverage of XMedia recently. I assumed they had run the photos again. The last thing I want is for anything to hurt you. I’d do anything to protect you.”
“No, that’s what I’ll be doing from now on—protecting you with every available resource I have at my disposal. I don’t care if the next six generations of our family are paupers. Goddamned son of a bitch.”
“Ward?” Angie’s voice is laced with confusion.
I’m not certain if it’s because of what I let slip about our future or because of the ferocity of my vow. It doesn’t matter. What matters is whether she pushes me away or holds on after what I’m about to tell her next. Swallowing hard, I whisper, “I’ve known Michael Clarke and Stephen Bellew since I was in grammar school.”
Her cry slices through the night air.
“And Angie, I believe you. I believe everything you’ve told me.”
Tears fall out of her eyes and freeze against her cheeks before I can wipe them away. “How can you? They’re yourfriends.” She spits the last at me.
“Wrong. They were. And from this moment on, no more.”
“Ward…”
“Am I going to deny the friendship I shared with them because they carried me through a less than perfect time in my life? No. But I don’t care if there’s never going to be a plea of guilty or physical evidence. I’ve held your body against mine during a flashback. Your spirit was both shattered and reborn when you told me what happened.” I pull her weeping body against mine. I clutch her tightly against me as I whisper the most important thing. “And I love you. I love you, Angie. The rest of the world can rot in hell—preferably with those two assholes leading the way.”
“I love you too. When you said you knew them, I became so afraid.”
“Of what?”
She takes in a deep, shuddering breath. “I made an assumption—a wrong one, obviously—that you’d turn away.”
“There’s no need to be afraid anymore. There’s no place you’re safer than in my arms. I promise you that.”
She hiccups and whispers, “Deep down, I think there’s a part of me that might have suspected that.”
Thank God.I swing her up in my arms and carry her back inside so we can sit in front of the fire. Tonight’s not a night for making love; it’s a night for holding on to it.
And for me to figure out how to protect the woman in my arms from any further harm.
My worlds have collided in a way incomprehensible way. I need to immediately sever any and all ties with anyone or anything associated with Mike and Stephen. I have to talk with Carys, but I’m certain she’ll have no problem with immediately selling the stock we own in XMedia to start.
* * *
“Listen,Carys. I may have thought the money left to us was blood money, but I flat out refuse to own anything related to XMedia.”
Angie is asleep in the bedroom of our suite while I’m discussing the sell order I’m about to place with my sister. We’re going to take a loss on our shares, but I don’t care. Nothing matters but the anger deep in my soul. The few hours I slept hasn’t abated it any. If anything, it’s bloomed it more.
“Can I ask why?”