“Escape clause? Who has an escape clause?” A hand landed hard on Scott’s shoulder and squeezed. Liam’s eyes flashed up behind him, his brows forming a ridge.
Holy fuck.
Scott spun around in his seat to find none other than the devil they spoke of—Todd Fucking Fletcher.
“Hey there, Scott. How’s it going?” Todd was all smiles in a black pinstripe suit that made him look like some kind of mob boss. He certainly looked demonic, the way his dark brows winged up at the corners and his hair was all slicked back high and hard with gel. His pale blue eyes pierced Scott. The man had no soul—it was clear now. Todd lifted one brow when Scott failed to reply, his gaze drifting over to Liam. He extended a hand. “Todd Fletcher.”
“Liam Dixon,” Liam replied, taking Todd’s hand warily, his eyes flicking to Scott’s quickly but then back up to Todd’s, a forced smile tugging on his lips just in time.
“Oh, brothers?”
Scott nodded. “Yeah.”
Todd’s grin widened, then recognition dawned on his face. “Not the Liam Dixon of Wallace, Dixon and Travers?”
“The very same,” Liam said, releasing Todd’s hand and then taking a swig from his beer.
Scott’s temperature was approaching inferno. His blood was magma, his skin on fire, his palms hot, sweaty and itchy as his hands bunched beneath the table, desperate to make contact with Todd’s face.
This man had ruined Eva. He’d cheated on her. He’d raped her. He’d bullied her and demoralized her until she was a shadow of who she’d once been. Scott’s fists through his face would be a drop in the bucket of what he truly deserved.
Murmurs behind them all and more men in suits smelling of cologne and money filtered out onto the restaurant patio. Todd acknowledged them as they wandered past. “Well, I won’t keep you gentlemen. Nice to meet you, Liam. Scott, I’ll see you tomorrow, hey, bud?”
Scott’s jaw ached, he was gnashing his molars so hard. “Yes, meeting at eleven. See you then.”
Then the fuckface took his leave of them and went to join his cronies, who all looked just as smarmy, slimy and psychopathic as him.
“Speak of the fucking devil.” Liam coughed into his beer, tipping it up again and draining it. “Jesus fucking Christ.”
“You got that right,” Scott murmured. He stared down at his sandwich. Goddamn it. Now he’d lost his fucking appetite. He snagged the waitress’s gaze as she passed. “Can I get this to go?”
She nodded and said she’d be right back with a to-go box.
“So that’s the piece of shit there, huh?” Liam asked, still seeming to have his own appetite and diving into his sandwich.
“The steaming pile fresh from the dog’s ass,” Scott confirmed.
“Well, let me do some digging,” Liam said, shoving his food into his cheek so he could continue to talk. “I’ve got a PI friend who owes me a favor. I’ll see what he can dig up on this suit-wearing turd. We might be able to leverage your relationship if the man’s hands are sticky.”
Scott’s interest piqued, and his stomach rumbled. He dipped a fry into his aioli before popping it into his mouth. “Really?”
Liam shrugged. “A man like that”—he shook his head—“no way he’s clean. The question is: just how dirty is he?”
14
It was Friday night, and Eva bounced on pins and needles as she slipped out of the front seat of her van in her sweaty gym clothes and headed up the walkway to her front door. She had an hour to shower, shave, primp and preen before she was expected over at Scott’s for dinner … and more.
She’d dropped the boys off with Celeste before heading to the gym, and her sister was going to keep them overnight. Todd’s parents had asked for the boys Saturday morning, so they would pick Kellen and Lucas up from Celeste’s and then bring them back to Eva’s later in the afternoon.
She had not only all night to herself (and Scott) but also all day tomorrow.
Were things finally beginning to look up?
Don’t get too carried away just yet. You can do a happy dance but no party hats or streamers. Your ex is still messing up your life. Now he’s your new boyfriend’s VIP client.
The nearly too-hot-to-bear water sluiced over her naked skin as she stood beneath the shower and washed herself. Even though the bruises were long gone, the memories were still clear as day. When she washed her legs, she could still remember the dark blue and green marks on her inner thighs and her hips from Todd’s vicious demands. The purple “cuffs” around her wrists from where he’d restrained her so tightly with his own hands, she didn’t think she’d ever break free.
But even those were bearable, were mere specks of shame and abuse compared to the bite marks he left along her collarbone, shoulders and across her breasts.
From the moment he banged on her bedroom door to the minute he left her lying there in the bed, naked, crying and drenched in sweat and semen, she had feared for her life.
Sex with Todd had never been earth-shattering. He’d been a selfish lover from day one. But it had never been painful or violent. That night had been. Everything he did to her hurt. He was rough and mean, harsh and aggressive. He took from her, and then he left.
She’d lain in that bed trembling for a good twenty minutes, fearing that he might return and do it again. Thankfully, though, Todd had never been more than a one-trick pony, and he’d also been drunk. He’d most likely just gone to bed and passed out. It had taken every bit of energy she had left—which wasn’t much, having just tried to fight off her husband—and she dragged herself to the shower. Then she put on heavy sweats and a big hoodie, and she began to plan her escape. It wasn’t until three days later, when Todd was away for business, that she and the boys finally got away. She’d been forced to live and face her rapist for three days until then, unable to sleep out of dread he might burst into her room again. After all, her door didn’t have a lock on it. She couldn’t even barricade herself, in case one of the boys needed her. So she lay awake every night for three nights, praying he stayed in his own wing of the house.
At first, she wasn’t sure he even remembered, because he never said a word about it. Never mentioned anything, never asked her how she was. He ignored her for the first two days, then on the third, when her sleeve slipped up her arm and the bruises around her wrist were exposed, he commented.
She’d flinched when he came up behind her and grabbed her wrist, her whole body going rigid from his touch. Unfortunately, that just made it all worse, and the rage that glimmered back at her in his pale, soulless eyes was a look that still haunted her dreams.
“You seem to forget your place, Mrs. Fletcher,” Todd began. “You are my property. Bought and paid for.” He ran his thumb over the diamonds that sparkled on her ring finger. “You are my wife and therefore obligated to perform your wifely duties. Refusing me is not an option, understand?”
All she was able to do was tremble. Tears burned at the back of her eyes, and her throat tightened to the point of excruciating pain.
“I’ve been pretty understanding and kind, letting you rebuff me for as long as you have, forced to find my pleasures elsewhere. But you’ve grown complacent, forgetting your place. Which is beneath me.”