Safe at Last (Slow Burn #3)

ZACK jammed the rental car into park, got out and strode up the walkway to Stuart’s house. Stuart was the weak link in the chain. The one who never had an original thought in his head and went along with whatever the group was doing. And yet Zack wondered just how much persuading and nagging Kevin and Bryan had really had to do in order to get him to participate in their gang rape of Gracie.

Nausea boiled in his stomach all over again and he had to shove back his visceral reaction to what three men he’d called friends had done to an innocent sixteen-year-old girl or he’d lose his tenuous grasp on what was left of his sanity.

If Zack had any hope of getting a confession out of all three—and he’d beat it out of them if he had to—he needed to start here. And in truth he relished the thought of exacting punishment and cold-blooded revenge. Justice for Gracie. And for himself. But most of all Gracie, who’d suffered the most. Lost everything. As had he.

His hands itched, curling into fists as he knocked forcefully on the door. Never in his life had he experienced such an intense need for blood. And more than anything he wanted to know why. What could have inspired men he would have never suspected of such depravity to attack a defenseless young woman in such a horrific, degrading manner?

The door opened and Zack’s vision clouded with rage as Stuart stood staring back at him, blinking in confusion. And then to Zack’s complete surprise, Stuart’s eyes went dull and he sagged like a deflated balloon. Guilt and resignation were stark, and he simply stood there, unmoving, unspeaking. Almost as if he knew exactly what was coming.

Zack’s fury reached its boiling point and he rammed his fist into Stuart’s jaw, smashing his nose with his knuckles. Stuart flew back and landed on the floor, his hand covering his now-bleeding nose. And he simply stayed down, looking at Zack with so much guilt and regret that it made Zack physically ill.

“Get up, you son of a bitch,” Zack snarled.

With a defeated sigh, Stuart slowly crawled to his feet and staggered when he stood upright. Blood smeared his nose and mouth and he made no further effort to stanch it. He merely looked at Zack like a condemned man awaiting his execution.

Then he closed his eyes and when he reopened them, a sheen of moisture glistened.

“I knew this day would come,” Stuart said in a weary voice.

Shame was evident in every feature. He looked like he very much wanted to throw up. Well, that made two of them. Zack’s rage was so great that he couldn’t even form the words he wanted to hurl at his former friend.

“Why,” he finally managed to grind out between tightly clenched teeth. “For God’s sake, why?”

“You have no idea how sorry I am,” Stuart whispered. “It’s eaten me alive for years. Still eats at me. At times I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. All I can see are her tears. All I can hear are her sobs. And her asking why over and over. Jesus, I’m going to be sick.”

Zack hit him again and stood over Stuart’s fallen body, fists clenched as each and every one of Stuart’s words flayed him open inch by excruciating inch.

“You sick son of a bitch,” Zack hissed. “Did you enjoy brutalizing a sixteen-year-old girl? Did you get off on seeing—and hearing her cry? How many times did she beg you to stop and where was your fucking conscience then?”

“Kill me. I deserve it,” Stuart said dully. “I don’t have anything to live for anyway. My wife left me. She took the kids. I told her what I did. God, I had to. It was eating me alive. I couldn’t continue living a lie. She’ll never forgive me. And I don’t expect you to either.”

“And it never occurred to you to tell me what you’d done?” Zack roared. “You knew she was my life. My goddamn world! And you damn well know the hell I went through when she disappeared. That I looked for her for years. Never stopped looking for her! And you’re fucking worried about your wife and me forgiving you when the person you should be begging forgiveness from is the woman whose life you completely ruined!”

Stuart dragged himself up and sagged onto the couch, burying his bloody face in his hands. His shoulders shook with sobs and Zack hadn’t thought his disgust could have gotten any worse. Was he supposed to pity this pathetic piece of scum because he’d lost his wife and kids? What about the family he and Gracie had lost? The children Gracie had never held in her arms. The wife and children Zack would have even now if not for this sick fuck’s interference.

“You make me sick,” Zack said in a barely controlled voice.

He was perilously close to losing his shit and completely coming unglued. So many lives ruined. And why?