Provoke

Dad chuckled and nodded. “You always were one to try and deal with things yourself. How bad?”

“Bad,” I said. I hesitated, for the first time doubting telling him everything. He had always thought Anna’s suicide had been related to depression. And it had, but he’d never known the full story behind her death. Maybe that had been my problem. Maybe letting the guy in prison for life deal with this would’ve been the way to go.

Too late now. Hindsight was a wonderful thing.

“Are you going to tell me or make me guess?” he growled, butting out his half-smoked stub on the side of the bench.

“Long story short, Anna had a reason for killing herself, Dad. She sent me a letter. It came the week after she died. Along with a tape.”

“And you’re telling me this now?” He cursed and smashed his fists down on the table between us. He was so pissed—to the point where I was glad there were more than ten guards within the vicinity of us. “What do you mean, a reason? What the fuck aren’t you telling me, Mace?”

“She was raped, Dad.”

“Raped? What . . . why didn’t she come to you? You would have helped her. She had to have known you’d have had her back.” He was echoing the same thoughts that had been banging through my head for the last year. “Do you know who did this?” His voice was tight. I was impressed at how controlled he actually was then. Dad usually didn’t hold back.

“It’s complicated . . .” I sighed. How the fuck did I put the next part into words? “Anna’s rape was put up for auction. She was raped under the instruction of the winning bidder. I guess, in a way, she was raped twice.”

Dad cradled his head in his hands. It was the most emotion I’d seen from the guy since her funeral. I sat there uncomfortably, not exactly sure how to react.

“Have you found the cunts who did this? I assume that’s where this ‘trouble’ comes into the picture.”

r /> “I’m close.” I hesitated. “I’ve found the group. I’ve been working them from inside.” I closed my eyes and waited for his wrath.

“Are you fucking insane, boy?” he yelled. And there it was. He glared at me, his eyes laced with anger unrivalled to anything I’d seen from him before. “What do you mean, you’re working it inside?” he mimicked, his expression one of disgust.

“It means the only way I could get some fucking answers was to see how they operate,” I said through gritted teeth. “Don’t worry, I’m not breaking any laws. I’m not a total idiot,” I sneered.

“Watch your mouth.”

I sighed and rubbed my temples. I hadn’t come here to fight. I’d come here because I had no other option.

“Are you going to help me or not?”

Dad sighed and then cursed loudly. “What do you need?”

“I need a gun,” I said quietly. “Maybe some cash.”

Dad eyed me. “Fine. I’ll get the word out. Wait for my call, and don’t do anything until you hear from me, okay? Just stay low and keep the fuck out of trouble.”

“Fine.” I stood up, nodding at the guards, and walked off.

Did I know what I was doing? No, but I was sure as hell was going to be ready.

Chapter Thirteen

Leeta

I spent a good part of the next two hours trying to free myself from my restraints. Of course, Mace could tie rope like a freaking sailor, and just in case that hadn’t been enough, he’d wrapped a length of chain around my legs, too. He had also taken my phone, my wallet, and my shoes.

Why the hell had he taken my fucking shoes?

I sat there, pissed, waiting for him to get back. With each minute that passed, my anger lessened ever so slightly. I was just so tired and hungry. And frustrated.

Maybe that was his plan? Disappear for a while and let me cool off. Well, I’d show him. Every time I began to feel the anger slipping away, I forced myself to think about what I’d found. I forced the faces of those girls to remain in my mind. I imagined him fucking them. Hell, I didn’t have to imagine, I’d seen it with my own eyes.

It worked, and the anger would skyrocket. But then I’d remember the look in his eyes, pleading with me to believe that he had some kind of explanation, and I’d wonder . . . maybe . . . just maybe . . .

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