Page 27 of The Atonement (Arrangement #3)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

PETER

A insley had tried to turn me in.

First , she’d tried to kill me. Then, when that hadn’t worked, she’d tried to turn me in.

She wanted me to go to prison. To pay for what I’d done—what we’d done, someone should remind her.

If I hadn’t had the foresight to move the bodies—what was left of them, anyway—I might never see my children again.

Ainsley had believed she’d won.

It sickened me…realizing that was why she wanted to meet me. She was keeping me occupied. Keeping me out of the way. Then, she let me drive us straight into the trap without a single care. How could anyone be so heartless? So cruel?

Luckily for me, once again, I’d outsmarted her.

I was getting good at that.

Now though, I was home without a car and a chunk of skin missing from my wrist. I doused it in cool water, patting it with a gauze pad .

What an animal she was…

Before I wrapped the wound, I picked up my phone to snap pictures. If she was going to try to take me down, I would do the same. No judge could see pictures of this abuse and think she could be a fit parent.

I didn’t want it to come to that, but if it had to, it was better to be safe than sorry. Ainsley had already proven she’d stop at nothing to win. I’m not sure why I expected anything different.

I positioned the phone’s camera over my wrist and took two pictures, one from farther away and one up close. You could make out the teeth marks plainly, and the way the skin around the wound had already begun to bruise.

My phone buzzed, interrupting my thoughts, and I looked down.

Well, well, well…

I didn’t really have time to answer, but I couldn’t resist. After all, why would Gina be calling me?

Ever since our unfortunate encounter with Mallory during my arrangement with Ainsley, things had been awkward between us at best and cool at worst. Today’s conversation in the office hadn’t exactly left me expecting to hear from her again.

“Hello?” I kept my voice calm, cool, and casual.

“Hey, is this a bad time?”

“No. Not at all.” I braced the phone between my shoulder and ear as I carefully wrapped my wrist, wincing from the pain. “What’s up?”

“It’s none of my business, but I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation with Beckman today. About the divorce.”

“Oh, right, yeah.” I tore a piece of medical tape with my teeth and used it to press the final piece of gauze down.

“I’m sorry if I was rude to you today. I had no idea you were going through so much.”

Suddenly able to focus my entire attention on the conversation, I sighed. “Oh, well, thanks. I’m…you know, I’m okay. It’s been a long time coming. Ainsley and I…we’re just in different places.”

“I get it. I know things have been weird between us…” She didn’t bother to elaborate when things had shifted. We both knew. “But if you ever need anything, I’m here. I truly wished things would get better for you guys.”

“Thanks, Gina.” Suddenly, I had the answer to my problems. Or…at least my biggest one at the moment. I needed a car. “You know, the hardest part is that she’s taken my kids away from me.”

“What do you mean?”

“She took them. Moved them out while I was at work. And now…” I paused for dramatic effect, allowing my voice to crack slightly.

Still a manly cry, but a cry nonetheless.

“Now, I have no idea where they are. She even stole my SUV today when she came over to talk. I…I shouldn’t be saying this.

I don’t want to speak badly about her, but…

I’m worried she’s going to do something to hurt them.

Or herself. Or me.” I let the words hang in the air between us, before adding. “But I’ll be okay. Somehow. ”

“Peter, if you really believe your wife is dangerous, you should call the police.”

“Oh, I did. But there’s no proof. You know they always side with the mother on these sorts of things.”

“Well, I’m really sorry it’s come to that. Is there…is there anything I can do?”

“Actually, there is.” I gathered the medical supplies and shoved them back into the first aid kit, not bothering to put anything back in its place. Ainsley would hate it. “Could you give me a ride somewhere?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Peter… I really don’t want to get involved. I just wanted to apologize because it’s been bothering me—”

“It’s nothing crazy. I just need to get our car from downtown. I had Ainsley meet me for coffee and we rode back here together, but, like I said, she took my SUV. Her car is downtown, so I just need to pick it up.”

“I’m not going to, like, get arrested for helping you steal her car, am I?”

I laughed. “No. Of course not.”

“Okay, fine. Where should I pick you up?”

I rattled off the address.

“GPS shows I can be there in an hour.”

“Okay, I’ll be here. And thanks, Gina. This means a lot.”

“I told you to get your shit together, Peter. Sounds like you finally are.”

Just under an hour later, Gina’s gray Camry pulled into the driveway. I jogged out to the car to meet her, waving my injured hand at her in the fading daylight. When I opened the door, she leaned over, trying to get a better look at me.

“What happened to your hand?”

“Ainsley.”

“She hurt you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Peter, if she hurt you, you have to call the police. Men can be victims, too. There’s no shame in—”

“I’m fine, Gina,” I said gently. “I promise I’m fine. It’s complicated with my kids. And I appreciate what you’re saying, but tensions are already high. I just want to protect them.”

“How are you going to do that?”

I gave a dry laugh, looking down at my hand hopelessly. “I have no idea.”

“Have you talked to anyone else about this? If not the police, maybe a therapist? A friend?”

I looked up at her, knowing I was winning her over by the way she was staring at me. This was a new side to our relationship. One I didn’t know existed before. “I’m talking to you.”

She swallowed, her eyes darting back and forth between mine, and then looked away. She gripped the steering wheel. “I want to help you.”

“You are helping me.”

“I mean…I want to help you fi nd your kids.”

“No,” I said quickly. “No. I can’t ask you to get involved.”

“You’re not asking. I’ve seen the way you talk about your kids.

I’ve seen the pictures on your desk. I’ve been with you on business trips when you stop to pick something up for them from the gift shop or when you order their favorite desserts from a restaurant to bring home after a work dinner.

I don’t know anything about your marriage, Peter, and I won’t pretend to.

And I know we aren’t exactly friends. But if I’m all you’ve got, I want to help you. However I can.”

“Why?” I couldn’t make sense of it.

“Because, despite all evidence to the contrary”—she chuckled—“you’re a pretty good guy. And you don’t deserve this.” She gestured toward my hand. “So let me help.”

I nodded slowly, contemplating. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m not,” she admitted. “But it feels like the right thing to do, and I need a clean conscience walking into my marriage.”

“Thank you, Gina,” I said, buckling in as she pulled out of the driveway.

“So, where to?”