Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Skye stared at Ash’s text. Her stomach sank with horror as she realized she had sent the text to the wrong person.
Who’s Clark Preston?
His words held a question she wasn’t prepared to answer.
Clark Preston’s name brought shudders so strong that her body wanted to curl inward into a tight ball.
It was why she and Forest never mentioned his name, relegating the monster forever simply as foster father.
His name gave power, even in death. It had taken years to erase all mention of him from their lives.
And, for the better part of a decade, his vileness had remained nameless.
But, now, Spencer had brought her foster father’s taint back into her life. Spencer had seen the depravity she’d been subjected to, watched the videos, and probably combed through transcripts of the trial. What else did Spencer know?
She brought her fist to her mouth, choking back a strangled sob.
Ash now knew that name, too. He would look. He would dig. He’d set his team up to investigate.
She eased out a breath and pushed away from the wall.
Spencer was a problem for later. Right now, she had a bigger issue with Ash. He’d responded and asked a question while glossing over the most damaging part of that text. She’d admitted to killing her foster father, a secret meant for her and Forest alone to take to the grave.
As she stumbled forward, the lobby beckoned with the promise of escape.
The only person she could depend on waited for her there. Forest would know what to do about Spencer and how to best protect everything they had built. They would deal with Ash…later, and she would need to decide what to do about her career.
At least Forest was an easy man to find. Unmistakably towering above the crowd, his white-blond hair acted like a beacon and drew her toward him. She made a beeline for the man who was much more than a brother. He was her other half.
She hooked a finger through Forest’s belt loop and gave a tug. He seemed to know it was her, and she drew him forward, barely losing her momentum.
But some of that might have had to do with the shock spread across her face and the urgency of her words. “We need to leave. Now.”
Forest allowed her to guide him out of the crowded lobby. Fear dictated her actions, and she knew, without a doubt, that he knew something horrible had happened. They could read each other so well.
When they exited the hotel, he hailed a cab. He opened the car door and slid in beside her, all without saying a word.
“Where to?” The cabbie looked into his rearview mirror.
Forest rattled off her home address.
“No,” she said. “Not there.”
Forest gave a sharp inhale. “Okay. Take us to the National Mall.”
“Mall’s pretty big,” the driver said. “Any particular place?”
Forest shrugged. “We’re tourists. Surprise us.”
Silence descended between them as the cab driver maneuvered through lanes of flowing traffic. Forest tapped his fingers on his thigh while she stared out the window, unwilling to speak with a stranger so close. Her phone buzzed with texts from Ash.
Half an hour later, they found themselves at the base of the Washington Monument. Forest stood beside her, his hand a hairbreadth from hers, close but not touching.
“You going to tell me what’s up?” He didn’t look at her, continuing to admire the stone monument.
She shivered against the chilly air. “Spencer knows our foster father’s name.” She turned to him. “And mine. He knows my name.”
No reaction came from Forest. Instead, he breathed out a single word. “How?”
“He said his father prosecuted our case.”
“How did we miss this?”
How indeed?
Cool wind numbed her cheeks as it buffeted them.
They were the only ones not rushing. Tourists and workers hustled down the Mall, jackets wrapped tight.
Overhead, a brilliant blue filled the sky.
It was such a gorgeous day, and she wished her mood matched the beauty surrounding them instead of the cloying fear wedged in her gut.
Forest pulled the hair from his face and secured it with a leather thong. “I made sure those files disappeared. I broke so many laws…”
“Evidently, his father made copies. Spencer found them.”
“I vetted Spencer. His father is a lobbyist.”
“We missed something.”
Ash’s text tone kept her phone buzzing.
“You going to answer that?” Forest pointed to the phone clutched in her hand.
She wasn’t. Ash’s texts had become increasingly frantic, repeating similar versions of the same panicky phrases. There were over fifty of them now.
Where are you?
What’s going on?
Who is Clark Preston?
What do you mean, you killed him?
He’d finally broached the most damaging comment in her hurried text.
Answer me.
Are you in trouble?
Come to me, Skye.
Don’t run.
And the most often repeated, the one that shattered her heart, was the simplest of them all.
I love you.
He wouldn’t love her once her murderous past came out or when he found out about her and Forest.
She gripped the plastic casing of her phone as it warbled yet again.
Come back.
“You know, those things come with a mute button,” Forest quipped.
“I know.” But she didn’t want to turn off the sound.
“You can’t hide this from him,” Forest said.
“I know.”
“The courts found you innocent.”
Another stated fact. Surely, he had some piece of wisdom to share in her time of need.
Instead, Forest’s hard eyes stared down with the same resolute determination as the night when everything had changed. It was the one secret they’d agreed to carry to the grave, and she had unwittingly spilled it.
Two truths had come out of that night. They were innocent. And their foster father had deserved to die.
She gritted her teeth and ground out her words, “Damn it, I know!” She ran her fingers through her hair. “Spencer's going to break the news to the media.”
Forest’s deep bass rumbled beside her. “Is that how you want Ash to find out?” He shifted beside her, leaning fractionally closer without actually touching. “Think about it. How would you want to find out?”
She shrugged.
Forest blew out a breath. “He deserves the truth, my summer Skye, before that asshole blows it up on the front page of the tabloids.”
“Ash is going to hate me.”
“Maybe.” Forest took a step forward and gestured for her to follow. “But don’t you think you should let him decide for himself?” His voice dropped an octave. “Especially if you decide to keep him.”
A deep pull of cold air surged into her lungs. “I can’t keep him.” Not after this.
Forest angled his chin down. “Seriously? After that song he sang onstage last night…” His left eyebrow arched, “‘Insanity’? That man isn’t letting you go.”
“But he signed those papers—”
“I have a feeling his manager had a part in that. Poor boy probably had no idea. I see it in your eyes, my summer Skye. In your heart, you know it, too.”
Forest pointed down the Mall. “Let’s walk. I’m freezing my ass off.” He pulled out his cell phone, and his fingers danced over the screen.
“What are you doing?”
“Strategizing,” he said with a grin. “It’s a beautiful day. Let’s play tourist a bit while you sort out your thoughts. Then, we’ll head back to your place and grab a hot shower and a change of clothes. And, please, answer that damn phone.”
Her fingers flexed, and she twisted her wrist to scan the string of texts sent over the past five minutes.
Where are you?
Don’t run from me.
You belong with me.
You’re my light, my life.
Was he writing another song? His words looked like lyrics, sounds that carved a hole in her heart.
Her finger hovered over the screen. A second later, she began to type.
Ahead of her, Forest held his phone to his ear.
He turned when she stopped walking to put distance between them.
He had an instinctual understanding of what she needed, and walked in a wide circle, far enough away where she couldn’t hear his conversation, so she had the illusion of privacy to compose her text.
Spencer showed up at the hotel.
Ash replied.
Are you okay?
Yes.
Did he hurt you?
No. Did you know his firm represents your band?
A moment’s delay occurred before Ash responded.
No. Where are you?
I’m with Bean.
Good, but, goddamn, where are you?
Your manager gave me the papers you signed.
What papers?
He didn’t know? Her heart warmed. She’d known deep in her bones that he would never have signed those papers if he’d known what they were, but faced with his scrawled signature, she’d had doubts. They’d discuss that later.
Spencer gave an ultimatum.
***
She caught Forest’s guarded expression. The bright sunlight glinted off his hair, making it gleam in the late morning sun. What a man Forest had become. Only she remembered the broken boy weeping on the concrete floor.
Forest spoke into his phone as he continued his circuit around her position. He gave a slow nod, letting her know she was not alone. It was the strength she needed to tell Ash the truth.
Clark Preston was my foster father. He raped me the first night I entered his home. Bean arrived a few months later. He abused Bean, too. Then, it got worse.
Her phone beeped.
Oh, Skye…
She continued. He trained me, and eventually, he sold me to those who would pay.
How old?
She was twelve at the time, but she wasn’t willing to discuss that yet.
You asked me not to hold your past against you. I’m asking the same of you.
I’d never do that.
If he only knew…
Ash continued. I love you.
His message couldn’t be clearer.
Spencer's going to the press. That text was meant for Bean. I was trying to warn him.
What happened to Clark Preston?
I killed him, but there was no way she would send that in another text.
Forest’s circling stopped. His brows knit together as he whispered urgently into his phone. Likely, he was deep in conversation with their army of lawyers, lining up a strategy to deal with Spencer's attack. She didn’t envy Forest’s task of dealing with the media circus.