Safe at Last (Slow Burn #3)

But this . . . This had the power to destroy him all over again. That she thought so little of him. That she had believed all this time that he’d turned on her. Hell, now the cryptic statement she’d made in the hospital about him finishing the job made sense. She thought he’d had her beaten in addition to having her raped twelve years ago. What kind of sick, twisted bastard did she think he was?

“Don’t you act like the injured party!” she yelled, tears running fast and unimpeded down her cheeks. “You aren’t the victim here. Do you think I just came to the conclusion you orchestrated the rape? Your friends raped me, Zack. Your friends. And no, they didn’t tell me you had them do it. They didn’t say anything at all. They were too busy laughing while I cried. But their thoughts were broadcast like a neon light. It was like reading a transcript to some horror movie. All three had the exact same memory of you asking them to do you a small favor. Like I was some pesky little nuisance you wanted to be rid of. Couldn’t you have just broken up with me like normal people do? Couldn’t you just tell me you didn’t want me anymore?”

Zack bolted to his feet, his hands dropping hers as he stared at her in shocked disbelief. The room was spinning around him in dizzying circles. Blood rushed to his ears and the roar nearly deafened him. He searched her features for some sign that he’d heard wrong. But no, every single word was branded into his mind with painful clarity. This was a nightmare. One he had no hope of waking up from. In that moment, he wanted to die.

“What friends?” he asked in a horrified voice.

He was barely able to choke out the words as his chest constricted to the point he couldn’t even squeeze air into his lungs. He was paralyzed, unable to move, to think, to process the terrible truth.

She sagged back against the couch, and it was as if the life had seeped right out of her, leaving her drained and listless. There was such a look of despair and hopelessness that it gutted him to look at her.

“Kevin, Stuart and Bryan,” she said dully.

Zack went rigid with shock. No. Hell no. This had to be some sick joke. He couldn’t even coherently formulate his thoughts enough to question her further. Kevin, Stuart and Bryan? They weren’t just friends. They were his best friends. He’d known them since kindergarten. Hell, he still saw them once a year or so. He’d been to their houses. Met their wives and kids.

And they not only terrorized and raped a girl they damn well knew he adored, but their thoughts implicated him? God, he was going to be sick. He’d cried on their fucking shoulders when Gracie had disappeared. They’d even helped him look for her. No one else gave a damn, and for that matter most of the people in his town didn’t even know who she was. His father had laughed when Zack had gone to him in panic and despair. He’d told Zack that she very likely ran off just like her mother had and that he was better off without her.

Jesus Christ, no wonder they kept up with whether Zack had ever managed to find her. No wonder they so easily accepted that she was alive when most people would have gently suggested to their friend that Gracie was likely dead and that he’d never know what happened to her. Every time he got together with them in the ensuing years, they always asked if he’d ever found Gracie. They’d probably inwardly rejoiced in the fact he hadn’t, because then, surely the truth would have come out. Just as it was coming to light now. And then he’d know every detail of their foul deed. Especially that they’d implicated him in the crime.

A terrible sound of anguish made him wince and then he realized that it had come from him.

“No,” he whispered. “Oh God no. No. No. No!”

He shut his eyes and curled his hands into tight balls at his sides. He was falling apart piece by piece and was on the verge of coming completely undone.

He staggered, his legs no longer able to hold up. He fell to his knees, his hands covering his face as raw sounds of despair welled in his chest and boiled out his throat. Tears blurred his vision and he scrubbed angrily at them, determined that he would keep it together. For Gracie. For them both. If they ever had a chance. If he ever had a chance to gain her trust again. He had to hold it together.

Knowing he had zero chance of standing, he crawled the short distance to the couch where Gracie sat, eyes drenched with despair, her anguish mirroring his own.

His chest was so tight he felt like he was about to explode. A knot formed in his throat, making breathing next to impossible. And yet this was important. The most important moment he’d ever face. This was his life. His love. His happiness. And the woman who held all three in her small, delicate hands thought he had done the unspeakable.





TWENTY-TWO