Deceiving Lies (Forgiving Lies 2)

“Yes,” Trent grunted as he sat up, and away from Rachel.

Mason approached me and whispered so his voice wouldn’t carry. “What the fuck is happening right now?”

“I have no idea.”

“Do we call a bus?”

I shook my head and shrugged helplessly. “We will when we call everyone else. Let’s get him upstairs and away from my goddamn fiancée.”

Mason walked in front of me, and grabbing Trent’s arms, roughly pulled him up. I had no doubt he was doing that for my benefit.

A pained cry left Trent as Mason yanked him up the stairs, and Rachel yelled, “Mason, stop! He’s been shot, and he’s not going to hurt anyone. Untie his hands, please!”

“Rachel”—I cleared my throat and somehow managed to stop looking at her—“come on, we need to get you out of here.”

“Please don’t hurt him, he protected me!” I watched her struggle to stand and realized too late that I should have been trying to help her. “You need to do something, they’ll kill him when they wake up.”

What was I supposed to say? I’m sorry? She was breaking my fucking heart.

The door burst open, and Mason came back in.

Giving Mason a look, I nodded toward Rachel and said, “We need to get Rachel out to the truck. Then we’ll, uh, we’ll call everyone.” I was thankful for our years of working together as he reached for Rachel, and began leading her up the stairs. I needed a minute to process everything I’d just seen.

Falling back against the wall, I bent over and rested my hands on my knees as I breathed heavily through my nose. This couldn’t be happening. I couldn’t lose her now. I’d almost lost her too many times, and too much had happened between us for this to end us. There was no way I was about to let whatever happened to her here, or whatever was going on between her and Trent, take her away from me. I would fight for her. I’d always fight for her.

When I’d collected myself enough, I made my way upstairs. Glancing over at the eight men, my gaze hardened as I saw Trent sitting there, head bent so he was looking at the floor. Bastard didn’t even have the decency to look at me as I walked right past him on my way out to the truck.

My heart picked up seeing Rachel, but I tried to control it . . . not knowing where we stood anymore.

Mason walked over to meet me, and stayed facing the building behind me as he spoke to me. “She’s just sitting there begging me not to turn him in.”

It felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. Begging Mason not to turn in one of her captors. That’s all she’s doing? Not thanking Mason for helping rescue her? Not wanting to see me?

“She’s covered in blood”—Mason continued—“and before you go freaking out, I’m almost positive it’s his. She looks pretty bruised, but I don’t think she’s bleeding anywhere.”

“Bruised? What the fuck, where is she bruised?”

“Half of her face is practically black and blue, and when I tried helping her into the truck, she almost screamed from where I was touching her arms.”

I didn’t care if Trent had been the reason behind it or not, I was going to fucking murder him. I started turning, but Mason was right there with a hand pressed to my chest.

“Don’t do it, Kash. I know you want to, but don’t fuck up your life over this. What the hell is even going on here? I thought for sure she would have been a hell of a lot more excited to see us. She seemed happy for all of fifteen seconds before running back to him.”

“I know,” I growled, and gave him a warning glare. “I think it’s some fucked-up form of Stockholm syndrome.”

“Shit.” Mason glanced behind him at the building, before looking over my shoulder where the truck was. “Are you okay?”

I looked up at Mason and huffed, but it sounded pained. “I spent a month thinking my fiancée was being tortured and murdered. I thought I would never see her again. And not only did I just watch her kiss another man, within secon

ds of having her in my arms again, she ran out of them and back to him! Do you think I’m fucking okay?”

Mason and I both looked over when a choking sound came from Rachel, now looking at us through the open truck door. “It isn’t—it isn’t like that! I just . . . Trent was . . . it isn’t like that, Kash, I swear!” She dropped her head into her bloodstained hands and started sobbing again.

I mumbled a curse and slowly walked over to her. My hands clenched into fists when I saw the bruising on her face when she looked back up at me. “We’re going to call the department and have them come pick up everyone. They’re going to want to question you, and I want someone to check your face. Okay?”

“I swear I didn’t—it isn’t like that! He just took care of me, and I thought we were going to die . . . a-and I’m sorry! All I wanted was to get back to you, he was going to help me find you, you have to believe me.”

“Okay, Rachel. It’s okay.”