“You did the right thing,” Tyler said as we stepped inside his suite at The Drake.
They were the first words we’d spoken since leaving the benefit, and they sounded far away. “It doesn’t feel that way.”
“He files charges for assault, and the only way to defend is to drag Lizzy into this mess,” he said as he headed into the living room. “Would you want that for her?”
“You didn’t have to pound his face in,” I said. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that he attacked an innocent girl who’d already suffered enough.”
“Yes, I know. Of course.” I drew in a breath. “But, Tyler, there are laws against rape, even attempted rape. Lizzy could testify. Bring assault charges, attempted rape.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” he said. “A former stripper crying rape? What cop would believe her?”
“I would,” I said, and I saw the flicker of warmth in his eyes.
“Fair enough,” Tyler said. “But even if the DA did believe her, he’d get a slap on the wrist and no cage time, and we both know it. Justice doesn’t always go hand in hand with the law.”
I shook my head, knowing I needed to just drop this. That it was becoming too damn personal. “That doesn’t mean you can take it into your own hands.”
“Why not?”
I just looked at him, willing myself to stay silent.
“I’m serious,” he repeated. “Why not?”
“Because you can’t,” I snapped. “There are rules. There are codes.” I thought of my mother. Of my stepfather. And in my mind, I heard the sharp crack of a shotgun.
I shivered, turning away from Tyler. “Don’t you get it? There’s an entire foundation built around those rules and codes, that makes us civilized.”
He came to me and put his hands on my shoulders. “That foundation is full of cracks, and you know it.”
I shrugged him off, took two steps forward. “Yeah? Well, it’s not your job to fill them.”
“Christ, Sloane, listen to yourself. You’re a cop for Christ’s sake.”
I whipped around, spitting out my words as the memories pummeled me. “You think that because I’m a cop I don’t know about crossing the line? That I don’t know about getting dirty? About paying a price?”
I held my hands out in front of me, my breath hitching because I knew that they were covered in blood. “I killed him,” I yelled. “I killed my own stepfather, you son of a bitch, and I pay the price every goddamn day.”
I gasped the moment the words were out of my mouth, a sharp sound, like I was trying to suck them back in. But they weren’t coming back. Instead, they seemed to hang in the air between us.
I stood frozen, staring at him, expecting to see shock, revulsion, even surprise.
I saw none of that.
“Oh, god,” I said, collapsing to the floor. “You knew.” My voice was dull. Pained. “I’ve never told that to anyone. I don’t know why I told it to you. How did you know?”
He was on the floor, holding me, stroking me, making soft soothing noises. And I realized I wasn’t entirely sure when he’d done that. “Because I see you,” he said simply. What I heard was, because I love you.
I blinked, and tears spilled from my cheeks.
“You mess me up, Tyler.”
“Yes, well, the feeling is mutual.” He pressed a kiss to my head. “Will you tell me what happened?”
I didn’t want to go back, but at the same time I wanted him to know. Wanted to share the horror with someone who knew me. Someone I trusted. So I drew in a breath, and started slowly. “You know some of it,” I said. “It was like living a nightmare. He beat her. He raped her. He was a monster.”
I drew in a breath, clutching his hand tight. “When I was fifteen, he tried to rape me. He was drunk, and I fought him off, but I was done with him. I was so very done.”