Exposed
Page 21
She shook her head against me.
I asked every time, though her answer was always the same. After every step of the way—when she’d gone to the police station, after her first meeting with the lawyer—she’d come back emotionally exhausted, without the desire to expend any more energy talking about what happened. In time, she always told me. Sometimes in bits, sprinkled throughout several days or even longer, and other times in a waterfall of information all in one sitting. However it was, however she was most comfortable sharing, I’d take. I’d take it and I’d sit there and be the shoulder she needed to lean on.
Setting her down on her feet, I pulled back enough to look in her eyes. “What do you want to do? Name it.”
She answered the same as she always did. “Movies and ice cream.”
With a nod, I said, “Done.” I leaned in and captured her lips between mine, pressing several kisses to her mouth. Then I wrapped my hands over her shoulders and turned her around before giving her ass a slap. “Go change. Meet you on the couch in five.”
While she was in the bedroom, I grabbed a carton of her favorite flavor out of the freezer and a spoon, then set them on the coffee table—an addition Evie’d said we had to have when we’d moved into this new apartment in a better area of the city to make movie nights more comfortable. I went back into the kitchen and opened the cabinet over the fridge. It was too high for her to reach, so I knew I wouldn’t have to worry about her accidentally coming across the long rectangular box I’d slipped in there a couple weeks ago. The box that had been sitting there waiting. For the perfect time. For today.
Her footfalls echoed down the hallway as she made her way into the living room, then she shuffled through the collection of movies we had until she settled on what she wanted. “How was work last night?” she asked.
I’d gotten home late, after three in the morning, and she’d left midmorning, waking me long enough for a good-bye kiss before she went to the courthouse.
I grabbed a beer out of the fridge, mostly so I didn’t walk out there empty-handed. “It was okay. I actually had a visitor.”
“Oh, yeah? Who?”
“Aaron.”
Her head whipped around from where she stood by the TV, her eyes wide and panicked.
“No, it’s okay. It was nothing wrong. Well, not really.”
“What was it, then?” she asked as she walked over to the couch, kneeling on the cushions and bracing her arms on the back as she looked at me still in the kitchen.
“He wanted me back.”
“Running jobs?”
“Yeah. Said I could pick and choose which ones I take. That I’d have seniority over all the other guys there.”
I studied her face as I said everything, watching for a hint of apprehension. And I found it. Even though she didn’t hold it against Aaron for stepping up to run the crew after Max’s death, she didn’t agree with it. It held such bad memories for her—first the place she’d run to when she’d needed an escape from her life, then the place she’d run from.
“What’d you tell him?”
I twisted the cap off my beer and shrugged. “That I’m happy bouncing at the club, and I have no intentions of ever going back.”
I didn’t, either. The years I’d spent running with the crew seemed like a lifetime ago, though in reality it’d only been months since I’d been in that life. I’d done it initially because it was all I’d known. And then, even when I didn’t have to stay in it, when I could’ve done a dozen other things, I’d let myself get pulled deeper because it’d been the only way I knew to obtain justice for the murder of the girl I loved. But the only guys who needed to pay for that were both six feet under.
Slipping the box into the pocket of my hoodie, I walked over to her and sat on the couch, settling my beer on the table. She turned toward me, then sat down, her legs tucked under her.
“You’re sure? I don’t want you to feel like you have to stop for me.”
“Baby…” I reached out, tugging her face to mine for a kiss. “I started for you, and it was for all the wrong reasons. I’m stopping for you for all the right ones. And I’m not sorry about it.”
She stared at me for long moments, her hand resting on my chest as her eyes flitted back and forth between mine, then she gave a little nod of acceptance. Glancing over at the table, she asked, “Where’s your popcorn?”
“Forgot to make it.” I moved to get up, but she pressed the hand on my chest harder.
“I got it. Get the movie started.”
She walked into the kitchen and soon the microwave was going, the kernels popping and masking the sound of me moving around. I slipped the box out of my pocket and set it on top of the ice cream container, then settled back against the cushions as she came back around and handed me a bowl before she sat down next to me.
Without looking down from the movie already playing on the screen, she reached for the carton on the table, knocking the box off in the process.
Glancing at it, she asked, “What’s that?”
“Looks like a box.”
She rolled her eyes and reached over to grab it, setting it in her lap. “I can see it’s a box, but what’s in it?”
“Should probably open it and find out.”
Narrowing her eyes, she stared at me for a minute before she looked down as she pulled the lid off. It wasn’t even a second later before recognition struck and she gasped, her eyes already filling as they looked up at me.
“Riley…”
I reached for the box, gripping the thick silver chain-link necklace as I pulled it out. With steady hands, I unclasped the hook, then gestured for Evie to turn her back to me. I slipped the necklace over her head, placing it on her neck and hooking it in place.
“How long have you had this?” Her voice was barely over a whisper.
“A while.” She glanced back at me, and I said, “The whole time. Gage had gotten it for me after the story of the boat went through the ranks in the crew. It’s been sitting in a drawer, broken, for five years. But you deserved to have it back. A couple months ago, you told me it always made you feel safe whenever you wore it, and I want you to feel like that all the time.”
With her head bowed, she reached up and touched the heart-shaped locket that hung in the center, right at the dip of her collarbones. She turned then and climbed into my lap, her hands settled on my jaw. “I love it. More than anything. And I’m glad you gave it back to me. But I don’t need it anymore to feel safe. Not when I know you’re here. That you’re by my side no matter what.”
I leaned forward and pressed my lips to hers. She melted into me, brushing her tongue against mine, and I didn’t think this would ever grow old. Holding her in my arms, waking up next to her every morning, having her be the last thing I saw before falling asleep. Five years ago, I’d lost the girl I’d loved more than anything. And then I’d found a woman who I loved more than I thought was possible.
I pulled back and whispered the only word that mattered. “Always.”
A Note from the Author
Dear Reader,
This story was a hard one to tell. And one, to be honest, that I fought in the early stages with every ounce of my being. For authors, our characters are sort of like our children, and the thought of them going through something so horrific is hard to accept. It killed me to think that something this horrendous happened to one of my characters. More than that, though, it kills me to know that it happens to hundreds of thousands of others every year. But the truth of the matter is, it does, and it’s not anything to turn a blind eye to, not anything to turn our backs on. When I stopped trying to find every excuse in the world for the path Evie took and finally listened to what she had to say, I understood. Her history, as awful as it was, is something that makes her who she is—not something that defines her, but something that’s a part of her, just like her tenacity and strength.
If you found a kindred spirit in Evie, I hope you’ve found the strength to share your story. If you
haven’t, there are people who are there to help and to listen. You don’t have to be silent anymore.
RAINN (Rape, Abuse and Incest National Network)
www.rainn.org
National Sexual Assault Hotline
1-800-656-HOPE
National Sexual Violence Resource Center
www.nsvrc.org
Acknowledgments
Sometimes, thank you isn’t enough, and I found that to be the case many times while writing this book. Alas, all I have is thank you, so I’ll say it a thousand times.
To Christina, I think this all the time, but I rarely say it, so I’m saying it now: your strength and resilience is amazing and awe inspiring. Thank you for giving me the courage and the push needed to stop trying to find excuses for Evie’s character and truly listen to her, allow her to speak. Thank you for holding my hand while I wrote the hardest thing I’ve ever written, and for offering your wisdom and encouragement and support while I traversed the difficult path of her character. You’re amazing, and I’m so very grateful I get to call you not only my Plot Whisperer but my friend.
To every single survivor I spoke to who willingly shared their experiences with me, thank you. It doesn’t suffice, but it’s all I have to give. Thank you a million times for your insight and for trusting me enough to share your stories with me.
To my editor, Rose Hilliard, for brainstorming with me in the early stages and helping me grow this into the idea that eventually became Riley and Evie. Thank you for helping me develop this book into the best it could be.
To my agent, Mandy Hubbard, for always being an e-mail away when I need you. And for being a total rock star. To the various people who helped with various aspects of this book. Now that we have Twitter, it’s become so easy to have experts at our fingertips and get help when we need it. I’m so very grateful to Shari Slade, Elenna H., Sara Taylor Woods, Sarah Henson, Kristin W., Tara Wyatt, and Elisabeth H. for your insights and suggestions on everything from analogies to bullet wound cleaning to sparring techniques. You all rock.
To the readers who enjoyed Captive and were excited to get Riley’s story, thank you for your support and for reading! Your excitement over my work only makes me want to produce it faster.
To all the girls in Brighton’s Brigade on Facebook, you all rock so hard. Thank you for your friendship, your support, and your experiences and opinions that you freely offer me when I ask!
And last but not least, to my family and friends who have supported me so much more than I ever imagined. If I could, I’d thank each and every one of you by name, but then the acknowledgments would rival the length of the book. If you’re reading this, and you know me, know I count you among this group. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I love you all.
About the Author
Brighton Walsh lives in the Midwest with her own real-life hero and her two energetic kids who (fortunately) know nothing about the naughty things she puts down on paper. Visit her on the Web at www.brightonwalsh.com or sign up for email updates here.
ALSO BY BRIGHTON WALSH
Captive
Caged in Winter
Tessa Ever After
Plus One
Season of Second Chances
Praise for Brighton Walsh
“A vulnerable but indomitable heroine and a hero who will haunt your dreams long after the last page. Raw, sexy, and unexpectedly tender, Captive is a powerful, gripping story.”
—Kit Rocha, New York Times bestselling author
“A sexy, suspenseful, and deliciously forbidden love story!”
—Laura Kaye, New York Times bestselling author
“Walsh entices readers with the lure of romance and a hint of mystery. Sensuous detail … with intense heat and complex characters.”
—Publishers Weekly
“It will be impossible to put this book down. It was so engrossing, it’ll be a stupid idea to stop. Solid five stars for this one!”
—Nerdy Talks
“Super sexy and romantic, and I want everyone to read Brighton Walsh’s books.… You’ll be hard-pressed not to fall for Ghost and want the best for Madison.”
—Love at First Page
“If you haven’t tried Brighton Walsh in the past, you should definitely try out her books because there is just something magical about her writing that draws you in and prevents you from abandoning the book. Captive was a fantastic novel that made me feel all the feels!”
—Nick’s Book Blog
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
A Note from the Author
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Brighton Walsh
Praise for the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
EXPOSED. Copyright © 2015 by Brighton Walsh. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
Cover design by Danielle Christopher
Cover photograph © Richard Nixon/Arcangel Images
eBooks may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases, please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department by writing to MacmillanSpecialMarkets@macmillan.com.
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Walsh, Brighton.
Exposed / Brighton Walsh.—First edition.
pages; cm
ISBN 978-1-250-05964-2 (trade paperback)
ISBN 978-1-4668-6502-0 (e-book)
I. Title.
PS3623.A4454E96 2015
813'.6—dc23
2015016929
e-ISBN 9781466865020
First Edition: July 2015