Corbin dragged in a greedy breath as soon as Rafe’s grip relaxed a bit. “Who? Man, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just came home to walk my dog.”
“You don’t know who I’m talking about? You don’t remember kicking Diana so hard a few weeks ago that you bruised her ribs?”
Rafe waited for the inevitable sniveling and excuses. When they didn’t come, he looked down into the man’s confused expression.
“Diana who? Man, I don’t even know who that is!”
“Of course you don’t.”
Corbin shook his head and then winced. He put a hand to his throat where purple bruises from Rafe’s fingers were already forming.
These assholes never took responsibility for their actions. He’d seen this sort of thing back in his neighborhood, but he’d been too young to do much to help back then. Once he’d started training Noah, they’d been happy to use their skills to help those who couldn’t help themselves.
Noah had kept up the practice when he started his own security firm, something that made Rafe proud. Even after he’d been out of Noah’s life, the things he’d instilled in the kid had stuck and guided him into becoming the kind of man that Rafe had always known he could be. It was good to see that something he’d done had turned out right.
Corbin used his inattention to back away, crab walking backward until he bumped into the small table on the patio. “Just take my wallet. I have a lot of cash in there!”
Rafe kicked one of the chairs out of his way. “I don’t want money. What I want is to make sure
you never hurt Diana or any other woman again.”
Corbin tripped over his own feet trying to get away. Rafe caught him by the back of the shirt and yanked him back.
“Diana Renquist. Doesn’t ring any bells, right? Let me guess, you conveniently forget every woman after you use her as a punching bag.”
Corbin held up his hands. “Punching bag? Man, do I look like I would punch anyone?”
Rafe paused, looking at the man’s long, thin, clearly manicured fingers. Was that— Wait, was that nail polish? The dude had hands that looked like they belonged in a lotion commercial, pale and smooth. Although that didn’t mean anything. There were plenty of abusive men who put on an elegant façade in public while living their lives as monsters at night.
“Wait, Renquist? You mean the chick who lived here before me?”
“Huh?” Rafe loosened his grip slightly.
The other man gulped. “Yeah. There was some lady with that name who lived here before me. I still get her mail sometimes.”
Rafe had a long history of dealing with liars, which was how he knew that Corbin James was very likely telling the truth. But that meant that along the way, he’d gotten something very wrong.
But then, who was she running from? And who the hell had hurt her? Had she not told him because she feared something like this would happen? Feared what he would do?
He’d almost killed this guy. Based on what? An overheard conversation and a hunch?
It’s no wonder she doesn’t trust you with the whole story.
When Diana walked down the sidewalk to reach Charisse’s house, she found her friend waiting for her at the door.
After a quick hug, Diana followed her inside. There was a soft, nubby throw blanket over the back of the couch and a colorful painting on the wall that she’d never seen before.
“I see you’ve made a few changes since I’ve been gone.”
Charisse harrumphed. “You would have known that if you’d come by more often.”
Diana laughed. “I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been a crap friend. I just… I don’t want to risk being followed.”
“No, you haven’t. You’ve been dealing with some stuff. I get that.” Charisse shooed her toward the sofa and then came back with two cans of cold soda. “Besides, you’re here now, even if I don’t agree with the reason why.”
Diana glanced at her from the corner of her eye. “Does that mean you got it?”
“Hell yeah, I got it. I told you I had a hookup. My brother is friends with the guy who coded this one. It’ll work on any digital safe. You just have to give it enough time to do the job.”