“No,” Bristol and I say in unison. I’m not even surprised. We may not be your typical twins, but in cases like these, we synch.
“This needs to stay as far off the books as we can keep it.” I shake my head. “I don’t trust the LAPD, not even a little bit. There have been too many leaks to tabloids. I can’t chance this getting out.”
“Yes,” Bristol chimes in. “Even though Rhyson isn’t on that tape, he’s been linked to them both, and this would drag his name through as much mud as it would theirs.”
“I want to make something perfectly clear,” I say. “This isn’t about protecting me. This is about protecting Kai, about making sure that damn tape never sees the light of day. Anything short of us finding the tape and destroying any and every copy in existence, short of finding out who is behind it, and destroying them, is failure to me.”
“But Rhyson,” Gep says. “If we do this off the books, we—”
“I said we keep this off the books.” I back up my words to Gep with a cold look. “There isn’t another option. No police. Less exposure. This motherfucker is fighting dirty with my girl, and as soon as we bring the police into it, we can’t fight dirty back.”
My words drop like a bomb, and for a moment it’s complete silence. I glance at Kai, and she’s looking right at me. I’m no less angry with her. I feel no less deceived, but she’s still my girl. And protecting her is still the most important thing.
“I need to see your phone, Kai,” Gep says, his eyes softer than I’ve ever seen them, his voice gentler. Gep is a hard ass recruited to the CIA before he even left college. I don’t know half of what he’s done, but the little I know would give me nightmares if I were him.
“My phone?” Kai’s panicked eyes toggle between Gep and me. “Why?”
“I know it’s tough, but I need to see the number the text and the video came from,” Gep explains, firming his lips before speaking the next words. “And I’ll need to watch the tape.”
“No!” Kai’s protest explodes into the quiet kitchen, and tears fill her eyes again. “I can’t . . . no, Gep. Please no. Don’t watch the tape. I’ll answer any questions you have. I’ll—”
“Kai, there may be something retrievable there,” Gep interrupts softly. “And I need to see if there are any clues embedded in that video, if the link has anything traceable, IP codes, anything. Who knows what information we can get from that. It’s the only smoking gun we have, and we need it to get to the bottom of this.”
He glances at me, twisting his mouth.
“Especially if we aren’t bringing the police into this.”
“And we’re not.” I extend my hand to Kai. “Give me your phone.”
One elbow on the island, she shields her face with her hand for a moment before lifting her head and walking over to me. She offers the phone to me, but when I try to take it, she doesn’t release it right way, looking up at me, her eyes pleading.
“Please don’t watch it.” Her voice breaks on a sob she tries to clamp her lips over. “I know Gep has to watch it, but you can’t. I can’t . . . promise me.”
I know what it costs her to ask that of me in front of Bristol and Gep. I can’t explain why, but I have to see that tape. I will see that tape. If only to prove to myself and to her that I was a fool to think seeing it could ever affect how I feel about her. I can’t promise her that I won’t, because I know I will.
“Did you take your meds?” I pull the phone all the way from her fingers.
“Rhyson, please. I—”
“I can’t have you relapsing, Pep. You had pneumonia and were in the hospital last week. You look exhausted.” It’s a habit to touch her, and I force myself not to push her hair back. Not to wrap my hands around her small waist. Not to dip and kiss her lips, as richly red as her mother’s strawberry preserves. “Go upstairs, take your meds, and go to sleep.”
“To sleep?” Her eyes stretch, mouth falling open. “I can’t sleep with this hanging over my head.”
“You have to.” I allow myself one touch, a hand at the small of her back to turn her toward the back stairs, just above the curve of her ass, one of my favorite spots on her body. “I’ll let you know if we need anything else.”
There’s more she wants to say. Protests she wants to make. Apologies in her eyes when she looks up at me over her shoulder. I see it all, and as usual, everything about her tugs me centripetally.
“We’ll talk later,” I tell her, looking away from the plea all over her face.
“Promise me,” she whispers, eyes fixed on me and blocking out Bristol and Gep.
I don’t know if she means promise we’ll talk later, or promise I won’t watch that tape. Her deceit builds up between us like a wall, each lie a stone to block the intimacy I’ve never wanted to resist until today. But today, I’m resisting it, and I’m not making her any promises, so I just turn away from her and hand Gep the phone.