Page 22 of Ruthless Desires, Vol. Two (Ruthless Desires Series Extended Editions #2)

Rhett

At this point, my breathing exercises are useless.

With every inhale, my lungs burn with a hatred so overwhelming I can hardly bear it. My hands began shaking the moment I finished listening to Andrew and Ludo’s conversation, and they haven’t stopped all day.

Not when I try to distract myself by planning with Ell.

Not when Wren makes me eat lunch.

Not when Oliver comes to me with ideas for our secret project.

There’s a certain safety that comes with being home. I don’t have to focus on a job or my surroundings, which gives me the mental space to process. Or, in this case, the space to let the anger inside of me swell until my chest feels like it’s about to burst.

How could he do that to Mom? To us?

I’m not sure when Richard started his affair with Andrew and Benny’s mother. Obviously over nineteen years ago, since that’s how old Andrew is. But how long was it going on before then? Did it start before Sammy was born? Soon after? When Mom got her cancer diagnosis?

Did he leave because of me? Did I ruin his life that badly?

I shake the thought off immediately. My father’s abuse may have fucked me up, but I was a child. I know it wasn’t my fault. His problems with me begin and end at his problems with himself.

It should make me feel better, but instead, my rage only grows. My mother was dying. Sammy and I were terrified of losing her. We needed help. Love. Care. But Richard abandoned us.

It only got worse after Mom died. He was barely home. Sammy’s blind trust and love in Richard began to wane. When he wasn’t at work, I assumed he was at bars or clubs. But now I know that’s not true at all.

He’s the reason she’s dead.

I’ve always blamed him a little, but I gave him more grace than I should’ve. I thought Richard’s later neglect was due to my mom’s death. I thought he was lost in grief, so deep in mourning that he wasn’t capable of taking care of his children.

But that’s not the case at all. He was off with his secret family, with a son he didn’t hate—at least not yet. It’s possible he saw my mom’s death as a blessing. It was one less thing tying him to us. And then Sammy died, and the way he acted… He wanted to erase her. Erase every last shred of evidence that she ever existed.

Almost like he was relieved she was dead.

That idea has been hovering at the edge of my consciousness for days now. Richard may not have orchestrated Sammy’s death, but he didn’t do anything to protect her, either. And now that I know the truth of what he was doing, any sympathy I still harbored for him is gone.

I try to stay present throughout the day, but there’s not much I can do to stop myself from thinking about my father. Even while we discuss different ways to get the boys to safety, all I can think about is how this is his fault. If he’d been a better father—a better person—everything would be so different.

By the time midnight rolls around and I’m the only one awake, I have so much energy buzzing through my veins that I’m not sure I’ll ever sleep again. I try everything to calm my mind—a hot shower, meditating, even Oliver’s stress relief tea.

Nothing eases the hatred that threatens to burn through me until all that’s left is ashes. And not a single thing soothes the anger that grips my heart so tightly I’m afraid it’ll give out.

I try to avoid the inevitable, but I can only hold out for so long. How can I when destroying Ludo is everything I need but exactly what I can’t have yet?

Rhett: Who do you need brought in?

Finn: I don’t think that’s info I should send to you.

Rhett: Give me someone, dammit.

Finn: I’d prefer to stay on Elliot’s and Oliver’s good sides, thank you very much.

Rhett: I’m wringing someone’s neck tonight. Would you like it to be yours?

Finn: Jesus. What the hell happened?

Rhett: Just give me someone.

I pace my bedroom impatiently while I wait for him to respond. I’m about to call when my phone finally buzzes.

Finn: I’m only working one lead. Been holding him at one of the safe houses for the past week. Can’t break him.

Rhett: I can help with that.

Finn: I have a feeling you want to do more than break him.

Rhett: That a problem?

Finn: Not at all.

Rhett: Send me the address.

Shoving my phone in my pocket, I get ready to go. I’ll leave a note on the kitchen counter just in case someone wakes up. Elliot will be mad that I’m going by myself, but I have to. I can’t hold all this inside anymore.

I creep downstairs quietly so I don’t wake anyone. As I pass by the living room, I realize the glow coming from inside is too bright to be from the dying fire. My first thought is that someone accidentally left a lamp on, but when I step into the room, I freeze.

Wren and Elliot are still in here on the couch. He’s fast asleep with his head in her lap, and the image tugs at something deep inside of me. It’s a relief, seeing him fully relaxed, even if it’s only because he’s sleeping.

Wren lifts her gaze from the book in her hand. “Hi,”

she whispers with a smile.

“I didn’t expect you to be up.”

She nods to Elliot.

“He hit a dead end with work. I thought it would be nice if we read together, but he fell asleep before he even finished a single page. And then… I didn’t want to disturb him. He looks so peaceful.”

Fuck. What did we do to deserve her?

“You need to get to bed, sweetheart.”

“I’m not horribly tired.”

Wren’s smile fades when she realizes I’m fully dressed, boots and all. Her free hand, which was softly stroking Ell’s hair, slows to a stop.

“Are you going somewhere?”

“I…”

My stomach twists with guilt.

Was I really about to head out, in the middle of the night, without telling anyone? What if someone woke up and found me gone? Or worse, something happened? It’s not like meeting up at one of Finn’s safe houses is dangerous, but there’s always a chance he’s being watched.

You’re supposed to be doing better than this, Rhett. You need to be here for them.

“No. I’m not going anywhere.”

Stepping up to her, I take the book from Wren’s hands and set it on the coffee table.

“Let’s get Ell to bed, okay?”

Gently, Wren shakes him. It takes a few tries, but he reluctantly opens his eyes after a minute. He groans and rubs his face before groggily sitting up.

“What time is it?” he asks.

“A little before one,”

I reply.

“You guys need to get some sleep.”

“I’m not tired,”

Wren insists.

After blinking a few times, Elliot squints at me.

“You need to sleep too. But why… why are you dressed? And wearing shoes?”

Dammit. I didn’t think this through.

“I’m not leaving.”

He gives me his classic don’t-fucking-lie-to-me look before leaning back into the cushions.

With a sigh, I say, “I was going to head out and help Finn with something. But I decided to stay.”

Ell tries to shake his head to wake himself up.

“Is something wrong? Is he in danger?”

“No, I just needed to… blow off some steam.”

It takes longer than normal for Elliot to get what I’m implying. His gaze turns sharp.

“You were going alone?”

“Just to meet him at a safe house. He can’t break the guy.”

“And you need to blow off some steam,”

he mumbles.

“Break the guy?”

Wren asks.

“Like… torture?”

We nod.

“You think it’ll help you?”

Elliot asks tiredly.

It shouldn’t, but it will. “Yeah.”

“Then go. Just be careful.”

“Ell…”

“Go, Rhett. Do what you need to do. I don’t want it eating at you.”

He stands.

“Text me when you get there. I’ll probably be asleep, but in case I’m not, I’d appreciate it.”

“Of course.”

I tug on his arm until he steps into my embrace.

He groans into my shoulder, still half asleep, before wrapping his arms around my waist.

“And make sure you come home to me.”

“Always,”

I murmur in his ear.

After a kiss, Elliot heads upstairs. Wren follows me through the house to the door that leads to the garage. I’m about to tell her goodnight when I realize she’s slipping on her coat and shoving her feet into her boots.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Wren, this isn’t going to be a fun trip.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m not expecting it to be fun.”

She straightens and gives me a determined look.

“Ready when you are.”

I stare at her in silence while trying to figure out what I need to say to convince her to stay home. Ultimately, I come up short, because telling her that I’m worried she’ll be afraid of me after this feels too cowardly.

“What?”

she asks when I don’t move.

“There’ll…”

I clear my throat.

“You understand that I’m going to be torturing some guy, right? And probably killing him?”

She gulps, but she nods.

“Yeah. I got that.”

“And you want to watch me.”

“No. But the future has the potential to get pretty messy from here on out. Messy and violent. Right?”

“Right,”

I say slowly, unsure where she’s going with this.

“I…”

Her gaze drops, and she rubs at the back of her neck.

“I’d like to not get traumatized again.”

Ah.

“You’re hoping that if you’re exposed to some level of violence in a controlled environment, it’ll make it less horrifying when you encounter it in real life?”

Of course she’d think that. She’s been through hell in the past month, so it only makes sense that she’s trying to protect herself.

“During the Williams job, I was so scared, Rhett. And seeing Tyler’s body was so jarring. You remember—I puked my guts out. I’ve never had a visceral reaction like that before. Sometimes the image of him lying in the snow all bloody just pops into my mind randomly. It’s… it’s horrible.”

Again, that feeling of helplessness settles over me. When we agreed to a relationship with Wren, we knew what we’d be subjecting her to.

The idea that we could hide our lives from her was delusional, and I think on some level we all knew that. And now she has to deal with the consequences of our fuck-up. All because we couldn’t stay away until we finished our business.

How could we do this to her?

“You understand this could backfire tremendously, right?”

“I’m willing to accept those consequences.”

“As long as you’re sure.”

I search her face. She looks nervous, but she also looks determined. Why I expected anything else is beyond me. Our girl is stronger than she gives herself credit for.

She nods and rolls back her shoulders.

“Let’s go.”

I could tell her no. I want to tell her no. But how can I? Whether I think she’s ready for this or not doesn’t matter. It’s her choice.

But what if she hates you after she sees you do this?

I don’t have an answer to that question. I just know that if our roles were switched, I’d be doing exactly what Wren is.

Opening the door, I usher Wren into the garage. A raw ache claws its way up my throat as I climb into my truck with Wren beside me. I need her to understand why I’m doing this. If she doesn’t, she’ll never look at me the same way again.

Before I start driving, I text Finn again. We’re going to be later than I originally anticipated.