CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
Raina
I have mixed feelings seeing Ruby a couple of days later. There is no going back to living in this apartment for me, and I worry about what will happen to her. But I belong in Connor’s world.
When I called earlier to tell her I needed to see her, she sounded like she hadn’t been sleeping. Finding her curled into a ball on my sofa in an oversized hoodie and jean shorts, I see the bags under her eyes have nearly taken over her face. Her ebony hair is a messy nest of frizz.
“Ru,” I whisper, standing over her.
“Ray,” she greets me weakly, keeping her distance.
I don’t know why I expected her to throw herself into my arms like last time. The trauma she’s been through has taken hold. And I left her when she needed me the most.
God, I feel awful.
But a tornado of a problem found me. I had no choice.
“Ruby, Connor is with me.” I look over my shoulder as he steps in quietly behind me.
She gives him a wary smile. “Nice to see you again.”
“Same here,” Connor says in a sweet voice. “How has Nero been treating you?”
“All right.” She shrugs. “I’ve never had a guard before, so I wouldn’t know.”
“You’d know,” Connor counters warmly, getting her to trust him.
I’m about to ask where her father is when a blast of visual shock hits me. “Where the hell are my books?”
I stagger to my empty bookshelves. All of Mom’s romance novels, her signed copies, and her special edition hardcovers are fucking gone. Even my damn fairy lights are missing.
“A man came by and said he bought them,” Ruby says, sounding anxious. “Nero checked him out. Said he was legit. The guy said he paid you.”
My mind is so clouded that I don’t remember accepting the offer. And was it a man? I vaguely remember the profile sounding like a woman. We even chatted about the new fantasy series everyone is losing their minds over.
I check my phone. Sure enough, my listing is gone, and there’s five times the amount I was asking sitting in my account waiting for me to transfer it to my bank.
I scoff to myself. The silent treatment is a good negotiating tool. But how did the sale go through? Did I approve it when I was upset and forgot? Still, seeing all these shelves so bare is jarring.
“Ruby, I’m sorry I didn’t leave you anything to read.”
She shrugs. “It’s okay, it’s hard to concentrate. I listen to music and do yoga.”
After a stretch of silence, I say, “We need to talk to you, Ruby. It’s about that night.”
Her eyes flutter closed, and she knows from my law enforcement background that I’m not here for useless details that will trigger her.
I feel the brush of Connor’s hand on the small of my back, and it calms my nerves.
“I’ll make you ladies some tea,” he says, giving us space.
I sit down next to Ruby on the sofa, watching Connor stride into my kitchen.
Moments later, the gas stove clicks to life, and the kettle begins to warm up on top of the blue flame.
I smile because I usually just nuke a tea bag in water for two minutes.
Waiting for the water to boil, he watches Ruby and me with quiet concern.
“Ru, I need to ask you something very personal about that night,” I say softly, hating myself for it. “More personal than what you already told me.”
Ruby shudders and nods, eyes bloodshot. “Much of that night comes and goes in flashes. I can hear their voices, but it always drowns out to me saying no no no .”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper and hold her hand.
“It’s not your fault.”
God, I can’t help but think that it is!
“I have something to tell you about the man you were with, the client,” I begin with a tight throat. “He was a very powerful man who worked for Connor. That’s how he knew him.”
She visibly shudders. “ What? Is that why I got attacked?”
“Not directly. Not intentionally.” Sobs build in the back of my throat. “But he was specifically targeted because of both Connor and me. So yeah, Ruby, it’s my fault. I’m so sorry.”
She stares at me as years of friendship play out behind her eyes until she remembers, I’m not the enemy.
“No, it’s not your fault,” she says with an exhale while staring at Connor’s back in the kitchen. “And I guess it’s not his fault either. It’s my fault. I agreed to go with the client, and I shouldn’t have.”
I press my lips to her temple and clear my throat to be gentle. “It’s not your fault.”
She nods softly, her chin lifted. “What else about that night do you need to know?”
“Did they use protection?” I ask, my voice barely a knock against the air.
Ruby cocks a curious head tilt at me. “What does that have to do with anything?”
This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.
“Ruby, this goes deeper than you coincidentally hooking up with one of Connor’s capos. Valdrin,” I say his name with a hint of regret. “ Valdrin is my father, and he’s part of the gang that retaliated against Connor’s family. The three men who hurt you work for Valdrin’s leader.”
“What?” she responds, tears welling up in her eyes. “Valdrin is responsible?”
“He didn’t order the capo’s death, and he would never have told the killers to hurt a woman he’s with.” I hope. I hope. God, I hope.
“Valdrin knows?” She twists the hoodie in her hands and practically covers her face.
“Yes, and he’s beyond furious about what those men did to you.” I slide a glance at Connor, who comes back with two mugs of tea and sets them down gently on the coffee table.
He sits in a lounge chair across from the sofa. Leaning on his elbows, he says, “We have the three men under surveillance. They’re powerful pricks. Don’t worry. Nero won’t let anyone hurt you again.”
“Ruby, we need as much information as possible to have the men who hurt you arrested.” I squeeze her hand.
“No, they didn’t use any protection,” Ruby answers, tears dripping down her cheeks.
I glance at Connor, and he just shakes his head. “Arrogant bastards. Don’t worry. My brothers have a direct line to the mayor with a prosecutor briefed about the case. But we haven’t mentioned you. Yet.”
“Did they, um, finish inside you, Ruby?” I ask, my stomach rolling even as I say it. “Or on you?”
She nods once. “As far as I could tell.”
“That means they left behind evidence. On your clothes, maybe?” Something tugs at the corner of my memory. “Ruby, weren’t you wearing your fishnet stockings that night? The sparkly ones?”
“Yeah, I think so.” She sniffs and dumps her head in her hands. “I don’t remember.”
“Do you remember if they, the men, took off the tights?” I ask delicately.
Her mouth twists. “No. I think the first guy ripped them so he and the others could get at my...”
Ruby breaks down piece by piece. My arms tighten around her as she cries, and I let myself cry with her. Her pain is my pain.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur against her hair. “I know this is hard. But we’re so close. We can catch them. We need you.”
“No one’s ever needed me.” She clears her throat and sits up, the look of feeling important setting her shoulders back.
I wipe leftover tears from her cheeks with my sleeve. “What did you do with the stockings?” I ask gently.
“I don’t know.” Her face scrunches. “I remember taking a shower here. After. I must’ve taken them off, but...”
“They have to be somewhere.”
She shrugs, defeated. “Maybe. I was messed up.”
I glance at Connor, who looks ready to detonate out of anger for what she was put through by these evil men.
“I’m going to check the bedroom,” I say, getting to my feet. “The stockings might have their DNA.”
Her head pops up, and my reasoning is clearer now. “Oh, okay.”
“Can Connor sit with you while I’m in the other room?” I lean in and whisper, “Let him take care of you for a minute. He’s a good man, Ruby. You never have to be afraid of him.”
Connor eases down beside her and gently hands her the tea with a warm smile. “Here, sweetheart. Sip it slow. It’s hot.”
My heart thudding, I leave them there and head into my bedroom.
The place is a wreck. Clothes everywhere, makeup scattered across the vanity, a stack of dollar bills on the dresser.
I start checking a bag on the floor she’s been living out of and find more fishnets, but they’re all intact.
And none are silver and sparkly. Or stained.
The attack happened nearly a month ago. Glancing around, I don’t see them. If they were ripped, she would have thrown them out on instinct. My eyes land on the small black glossy trash bin next to the bed. It’s overflowing, and my pulse stutters.
Dropping to my knees, I pull out tissues, receipts, and fast-food wrappers.
“I’m glad you’re eating,” I whisper to myself.
Under a crumpled credit card bill, I see the stockings. Silvery and torn at the thigh. A lilac blouse sits underneath. Ruby was in shock and traumatized if this ended up in the trash, too. It’s her favorite shirt.
My fingers trembling, I carry the whole trash can back to the living room.
Ruby is still curled up against Connor, his arm around her as she cries softly. He murmurs something low to her that I can’t hear. When he looks up, I give him a small smile.
“I found the stockings,” I say, trying to inject positivity into this horrible situation.
It will lead to justice. I can’t change what happened, but I can work to bring down those assholes who hurt her.
Connor squeezes Ruby’s shoulder, then rises to his feet. “Where do you keep your plastic bags?”
“Kitchen,” I say hoarsely. “I’ll show you.”
We head in there together, and I grab a bag while Connor fists a set of clean kitchen tongs. He lifts the stockings from the trash can and carefully places them into the bag so his DNA isn’t on them.
Smart .
“Ruby,” I say quietly, holding up the lilac blouse. “This shirt is your favorite. Are you sure you want to get rid of it?”
“They spit on me.” Her voice comes out choked. “After. Each of them.”
Connor and I both freeze.
Spit. DNA.
I meet his eyes and signal for a second bag. He nods, already reaching for it.
I turn back to Ruby and take her hand again. “We’re going to get them.”
And I mean it. For her, and every woman who’s ever been attacked.