Beneath the Stars (Falling Stars 4)

He scoffed out a laugh. “Doubtful.”

“I’ll check on her.”

Fuck, I was really laying it on. Doubling down on the lies. Acting like I was nothin’ but good intentions.

“Thanks, man. I appreciate all you’ve done,” he said.

“No problem.”

Without saying anything else, I slipped into my room and shut the door behind me. I dropped my head and tried to get my wits. To pull it together.

I felt like a total piece of shit for touching his sister. Maybe more so for being desperate to do it again. For lying to him.

For feeling this need to hold somethin’ beautiful when I didn’t have the right.

But the call she had on me was a powerful one, that was for damn sure.

The way I was already movin’ through that bathroom and nudging open her door that was cracked an inch.

An open invitation.

The girl sat on her bed looking at the door. Waiting for me.

Feeling me, too.

I stopped in the doorway. “Hey there, Sweet Thing.”

Her mouth trembled, and a tear streaked her cheek, and I saw that folded duck she clutched in her fist. I rushed for her, swooped her into my arms, and took her to my room. I carried her to the chair in the far corner, and I shifted around and eased onto the chair with her cradled on my lap.

She hung on tight.

I held on tighter. “Scared the piss outta me today, Sweet Thing.”

She almost smiled, her laugh a whimper. “Got the piss scared out of me, too.”

My hand rubbed along her hip, trying to soothe her, soothe myself.

“What really happened out there?”

She flinched.

“Don’t pretend with me, Maggie. Know you’re in somethin’, and I can’t sit aside and act like this isn’t happenin’. Someone attacked you.”

Horror scraped my throat when I forced it out.

She exhaled and sagged in my hold, and her fingers started playing across the fabric of my shirt that covered my chest. “My father was responsible for hurting a lot of people.”

My murmur was slight. “Yeah.”

Old agony curled up from her spirit. Unmistakable hurt but there was this quiet ferocity at the center. Like this girl had found her strength in the middle of it. “He kept women and men prisoners, Rhys. Tricked them into slavery. Used them for their bodies like they were possessions.”

I think Maggie was just needin’ to say it aloud since all of that was well known. Splashed all over the airwaves.

When Royce had exposed his stepfather’s seedy empire, some of the captives had escaped. Others had been moved before the Feds had descended on the compound. I think it was safe to say we still didn’t know how deep it went or how many had been affected.

Dude was a fucking monster.

Fact he’d let one of his artists do the same to his own daughter and then covered it up? Doubted much the man even had a soul, though I hoped he did. Hoped even though he’d gotten off easy here, paying with his pathetic, disgusting life, he was receiving justice somewhere in the afterlife.

“I just want to make a difference in their lives. Help the only way I can.” She said the last so quietly that I wasn’t sure I’d heard her right.

Her confession.

Because that’s what it was.

My arms tightened around her as dread marched across my flesh. “What did you do, Maggie? Tell me what you did, and who hurt you. I’ll end it.”

Tonight.

I’d hunt down any fucker who would dare harm this girl.

Her head shook. “There wasn’t a lot of money left once his accounts were seized.”

“I heard that.”

Mylton Records had been dismantled.

That article a few days ago had talked like Maggie was some rich, spoiled heiress. I knew better. There’d been very little left. Not for her or her mother.

“But he was smart, Rhys. He kept enough hidden so no matter what, he could make his way back to his fortune.”

My blood sloshed. Heavy with dread. Not liking where she was going with this.

“I found it.” Her voice was a breath of fear and hope.

Shit, this girl had my heart thuddin’ in her fist. “What did you do?”

“I took it. And I’m going to use it for good.”

“Maggie.”

Her head shook. “Don’t try to talk me out of it or tell me it’s dangerous. I know the risk, and it’s worth it.”

“Someone hurt you,” I argued, words nothin’ but a plea when I shifted her on my lap so she was straddling me. Hand shaking, I carefully reached up and dragged down the loose tee she wore, exposing the bandage taped on her chest.

Right over the scar she already had.

I barely brushed my fingertips over it, pain leaching into my words when I looked from my fingers to her eyes.

“Someone hurt you.” My teeth ground when I reiterated the truth.

She gathered up my hand. “It was a threat. A warning. Nothing more. And I refuse to cower or give in. I…it’s my mother, Rhys.”