Page 112 of Distress Signal

“In the interest of full transparency then,” she started, and I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like what came next. “There’s more I need to tell you.”

I groaned. “Out with it then.”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve gotten a call like this,” sheadmitted quietly. She didn’t look at me, and her fingers traced nonsensical patterns across my chest, as though that would distract me.

Once again, rage seized me.

“How many?” I ground out, trying to keep my composure.

“A couple times a week since I got back to town. There have been texts too.”

“Do you still have them?” She nodded, waving her phone at me. My hand moved between us, to her chin, clasping it between my thumb and forefinger. Tilting it back until our eyes met. “Nothing and no one is going to hurt you, Reagan. I promise you that. But I can’t protect you if you don’t tell me what you need protection from.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I was hoping they would go away.”

“None of this will go away until Lainey is home and the fucker responsible is dead.”

She nodded emphatically in agreement.

“Whatever it takes.”

“We need to loop Lane in on this.”

“Fine,” she said. “But can it wait until the morning?”

Her voice had gone sleepy, and she burrowed deeper into my embrace. I shifted only enough to grip the comforter and drag it over both of us.

Reagan was already out.

I sent a text to Lane before trying—and failing—to do the same.

The following morning,we headed over to the big house for our meeting with Lane. Naturally, all of my brothers, except Crew, who was on shift, were already there and fussing over Aria. My baby sister sat in the den, the white bandagewrapped around her head stark against her tan skin. Dark shadows had taken up residence under her eyes.

I walked right to her, dropping down at her side and gingerly pulling her into an embrace.

“I am so sorry,” I murmured into her hair, doing my best to keep my emotions in check.

“Shut up,” she said, completely with an eye roll that had her wincing. “It’s not your fault.”

Reagan came and knelt in front of us, hands on Aria’s knees. “You’re right. It’s mine.”

Aria and I groaned in unison.

“Belle…” I warned.

“It’s no one’s fault,” Aria stated firmly. “I should’ve told you I was coming over.”

“And I would’ve told you not to.”

Aria nodded in agreement. I could tell there was more she wanted to say, but not in a room full of her brothers.

Pressing a kiss to her temple, I said, “We’ll talk about it later.”

She nodded, burrowing deeper into my side. Reagan sat down on my left, and I swung my arm around her.

Lane walked in, steaming Lawless Rescue and Dude Ranch mug in hand, and took stock of the room. West and Trey sat on the other side of the couch, Mama in her easy chair.

Shaking his head, he muttered, “Whole fucking family for a victim statement.”