Chapter 33: Chapter 32

I felt eyes on me. Could sense the heat of them boring into my back. But I couldn’t look at anyone but Rho. While the damage to her forehead had been dealt with, I could still see the angry gash—something violent, something that had torn at her flesh.

The thought had nausea sweeping through me, fury fast on its heels. Because someone had tried to hurt Rho. Someone had tried to snuff out the only tiny pinpricks of light I had in my life.

Shep had shared what little he knew on the ride over. Someone had forced Rho off the road and down the side of a ravine. God, it could’ve been so much worse. It could’ve meant the sort of damage that was permanent.

Rho worried the corner of her lip, but my fingers flashed out, gently pulling it free. I couldn’t stand the thought of her being in any more pain, even the slight kind brought on by a nervous habit.

“What the hell is going on?” Trace barked.

That had me whirling on him. “Don’t speak to her in that tone.”

The menace lacing my words had Trace’s eyes widening. If I wasn’t mistaken, a hint of respect entered his expression. His face quickly resumed its careful mask.

“Let’s just dial it back a notch, everyone,” Rho said. Her voice was a balm to my overheated skin. She laid a hand on my back, the feel of her palm branding me, even through the cotton of my T-shirt. “Anson and I are…friends.”

“Friends,” Trace huffed.

“This isn’t important,” I snarled. “What’s important is finding out who the hell did this to Rho.”

Trace straightened, reading the accusation in my tone. “We’ve got an APB out, and I’ve got officers scouring the area. An SUV matching the description Rho gave was reported stolen from a trailhead.”

“Where?” I clipped.

“About ten minutes south of here. Within walking distance of downtown.”

My mind swirled, trying to put the pieces together. The fire, in the past and now, the photo left on her porch, the newspaper clippings, and now this. Everything was reactive. A balance of gifts and punishments.

Shep moved into my line of sight. “What are you thinking?”

He knew I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from analyzing the circumstances, even if I didn’t want to. “Whoever this is, they’re impulsive. They don’t think about long-term consequences. But the photo left on Rho’s doorstep shows a level of manipulation.”

Trace’s eyes narrowed on me, but he didn’t say a word. I could feel Rho stiffen at my back, even though I couldn’t see her, as if the air shifted with her rigidity. But Shep kept pressing. “What does it mean?”

I pushed to my feet, clawing panic forcing me to move. I didn’t want to put the pieces together. Didn’t want what I was thinking to be true. “They’re all signs of psychopathy.”

Trace’s jaw worked back and forth. “And how would you know what those signs are?”

My gaze flicked to Rho. Her expression was wary. I tried to tell myself that was good. She should be careful around me—around anyone who hid a part of themselves so well.

I forced my focus back to Trace. “I used to be FBI. Worked for the Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

Surprise lit in Trace’s eyes. “Profiler?”

I nodded.

“And now you work construction…” He was trying to put the pieces together.

My throat worked as I swallowed. “It wasn’t for me anymore.”

My gaze shifted to Rho, and everything in me tensed. Her face, usually so wide open, like a projector screen of all her emotions, was closed down. I couldn’t read a damned thing other than the echoes of hurt in those hazel eyes.

Rho glanced at a middle-aged man standing near the gurney. “Can I go now? I’d like to get home.”

The quiet whisper of her voice killed something in me, and guilt like a boa constrictor wrapped itself around my insides and squeezed.

The man nodded. “Someone needs to stay with you so they can wake you up every two hours and ask you simple questions. If you seem at all confused, they need to take you to the emergency room.”

“I’ll stay with you,” Shep offered.

“No,” Rho clipped. “Fallon will.”

Fallon looked between them as if assessing a standoff. “Of course.”

“Rho,” I said softly as she slid off the gurney.

“No,” she bit out.

Pain flared hot and bright, like what I imagined being gut shot felt like. I couldn’t stop myself from moving toward her. She was still a beacon of light for me, even knowing I’d done something to dim it.

Rho let out a long breath. “You don’t owe me your secrets. I know this isn’t…that. I just—I need to go home.”

But some part of me knew I did owe it to her. I’d been playing a game of deception, and she got burned. “I didn’t want anyone to know,” I said, my voice low.

That gold in her eyes dulled as her gaze flicked to her brother and then shifted back to me. “I bet Shep knew.”

“Because I’ve known him since college,” I explained. “He’s always known. And when I needed a place to go where no one knew my past, he gave me that.”

She nodded, understanding filling her expression. But it didn’t drown out the hurt. “I get it. I really do. But it doesn’t change that I told you everything, and you only gave me crumbs.”

Each syllable was a slice to my skin, flaying me open and pouring acid in the wound. “I told you more than I’ve told anyone.”

Rho just shook her head, but as she did, more pain flared in her eyes. “I can’t do this right now.” She turned to Fallon and the tattooed behemoth near her. “Can you take me home?”

Fallon was at her side in a second, gently wrapping an arm around her shoulders as she held Biscuit’s leash in her other hand. “Of course. Come on.”

I didn’t move. Not as Rho walked away. Not as she climbed into the darkened SUV. Not as the vehicle pulled out and left. I just kept staring. Watching as the one thing that had made me happy for even the briefest moment disappeared right out of my life.