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“A lot of the lawyers were friends of his. When it got really bad about a year into our marriage, I did try to leave. That was a mistake.”

That night after he’d brought her home, he raped her twice, then left .

She’d hoped that he had enough sex—he hadn’t. She prayed he thought she had been punished enough—he hadn’t.

She shook her head and rubbed her face. She was so not telling Joe that story. Every time she remembered that night, the scars on her back started itching.

“Did you ever tell anyone about the abuse?”

“Yes. I confided once to the wife of one of the lawyers in the firm, who then told her husband. They were appalled. But when her husband confronted Keith, he fired him, and then he ruined their reputations. They couldn’t get jobs in the city.

They had to move across the country. He laughed and then threatened to ruin anyone I told. ”

Joe’s eyebrows pinched together. “Were you able to get away again?”

She nodded. “I tried another time. Keith found me and destroyed my studio.”

Joe groaned.

“The third time, this time, a new friend helped. Sheri had been abused herself, so she knew how to disappear. She held on to what little funds I could get my hands on and lent me some money to get started. She bought a bus ticket and a burner phone for me.”

Oh, it had been difficult. Claire hadn’t known who to trust, but when Sheri started working at the museum and one day noticed bruises on her arm, she questioned her.

It was the worst day and the best day of her life.

Keith had been so careful up until that point not to leave bruises where people could see them. Claire had forgotten they were there.

Sheri had confided that she had left an abusive relationship and recognized the signs. She conspired with Claire on how to get away. The plans were in place six months before Claire left.

“I took the bus here after confirming that Mark would let me stay for a while. Time enough to make some plans, maybe earn some money. After that, I didn’t have a plan.” She pressed her fingers to her eyes, exhaled and continued.

“Keith is smarter than I give him credit for. He found me after a few days. He showed up here and told Mark I was having a mental breakdown. That’s when I left and found the shelter. Sam found me and asked me to come back.” She stretched out her arms. “And here we are.”

Joe didn’t say anything for a long time. Just reached out and rubbed the backs of her hands, his lips pressed tight together. Finally, he looked at her. “I’m beyond upset about this and sad you had to go it alone.”

Oh God, please don’t be angry at me. Her hands started sweating. She could feel a flush starting at her throat and working downward. Joe must have sensed her anxiety.

He stopped and gave her a small smile. “But not at you. Never at you. I’m happy you came back and Sam asked me to protect you.”

He lifted her hands and kissed the back of each one. “I promise to keep you safe. I promise to do whatever I can to get you free of Keith and on your own.”

Oh, promises. Claire knew that everyone could believe their promises to keep her safe, but she knew deep down that she would never escape Keith’s clutches.

Sweat worked its way down Keith’s face and into his neck.

He loosened his collar and wiped some of the moisture off.

The saltiness caused his eyes to blink and burn.

He’d love to turn the air-conditioning on but couldn’t take the chance that Mark or the woman would see him.

He’d followed the woman’s car back to Mark’s house.

No surprise there. They had gotten out and walked inside about ten minutes ago.

He pulled his visor down to keep some of the light out.

Pulled a cap over his head and put sunglasses on.

He thought he’d have a chance to nab Claire at the shelter, but that hadn’t happened. Goddamn bitch. She never did anything right. Claire had been whisked away right under his nose. He followed the woman’s car right back to Mark’s house—the liar.

If he didn’t know better, he would have thought Claire was one of the down-on-their-luck women he had seen walking out earlier, not his wife, who spent a fortune on hair and makeup and always looked put-together and beautiful.

Not the lank, pasty woman who walked out.

And that outfit? Had she bought the clothes at a thrift shop?

Or had the shelter given them to her? Either way, she looked like a homeless waif when he knew there was a closetful of designer clothes at home chosen just for her.

But that was her choice right now. When she came back to him—and she would—he would make her burn those designer clothes.

Make her shop at a thrift shop. It would serve her right.

He watched a tall, muscular man park a big, black truck in the driveway and walk into Mark’s house. Probably her new boy toy. A serious-looking, most likely ex-military guy. He had that look.

Mark had walked out about the same time and driven off. A little while later, the small woman left. He hoped neither noticed him. That meant Claire and the guy were alone. Doing who knew what. Bet the guy thought it would be fun to bang his wife.

Well, he would see about that. They would all be sorry—very sorry.