at me full force. The burden of what he wore. The devastation in his eyes.
His wife. His wife. His wife.
Memories of his confession banged through my mind.
“Someone’s after you?”
Surrender shook his head. “No, Sweet Thing. Not after me. They already have me.”
He’d tried to push me away. He’d warned me his heart wasn’t fully his to give.
But I knew Rhys. Knew him deeply even without having an idea of the details. He would never turn his back on her. Would never step out. There was more to this. So much I didn’t know, but I knew enough.
Knew enough to read between the lines.
Whoever this asshole was…he’d been blackmailing Rhys. Manipulating him. Holding him under his thumb.
I knew it in an instant.
My teeth clenched as a riot of anger swarmed my being. I was shaking with anger as I tapped out the text.
Bullshit.
Three more pictures blipped through. They were segmented pieces of a news article from Rhys’ hometown.
Dalton, South Carolina.
It was dated seven years ago.
The horror of it nearly knocked me from my feet, my eyes wide and anguish cutting my heart wide open as I scanned the words.
I wanted to refuse them. To reject this story. Chalk it to fiction but instantly knowing it was Rhys’ truth.
The article spoke of the suicide of a forty-five-year-old Keaton Manning.
My soul cried as I heard the torment that had groaned from Rhys’ voice.
Seven years gone.
This article was talking about Rhys’ father.
I kept reading the words again and again. The fiery crash that had happened at the end of their lane on the same night, a woman who’d been rushed to the hospital with severe burns.
Genny Manning.
Oh god.
I blinked and struggled and fought to process what it all meant. I hadn’t come close to making sense of it before another text came through.
It’s interesting if you search for that article, you won’t find it. I think it’s plenty clear why Rhys had it suppressed, isn’t it? Why he’s hiding? Unwilling to accept fault? How sad it’ll destroy his career when everyone finds out what I know. What he was responsible for.
Rage blustered through me when I read the disgusting words.
Money.
I knew it.
Knew that’s what this was about. It was what it was always about. What drove people to depravity. Greed the dictator of the cruelness that raged through the world.
I fought the sting of tears as I tapped out the message.
What is it you want? Money? Just say it and quit playing these games. How much?
It took all of five seconds for a response to come through.
What is he worth to you? What are you willing to pay to cover his sins?
A slimy stickiness drenched my flesh. I didn’t need to hear the tone of this monster’s voice to recognize the wickedness. The malignant evil that festered and bubbled.
This person who’d been exploiting Rhys’ pain…his grief…for God knew how long.
I glanced at the door that separated me and Rhys. To his spirit that finally drifted in peace.
My sweet, sweet stallion.
I didn’t have to pause or contemplate my own truth.
I was willing to give anything for him.
Everything.
I’d give it all.
Just tell me where and when and how much. I’ll be there. But if I pay you, you end this. You forget you know Rhys Manning.
It only took a second for his response to come through.
Ah, I see he really has gotten to you. $100,000 and all that I know will be buried forever. Tomorrow at 3:00 p.m. Tell Rhys, and the deal is off.
It was followed by an address in Tennessee.
Tennessee.
Where she was from. I remembered it from the night Rhys had told me a little about the woman he’d fallen in love with. When his words had been soaked in regret and shame.
Darkness clouded the edges of my sight.
It wafted in like an omen.
A specter.
I looked around the bathroom like the walls might hold an answer. Like they might take away the fear that suddenly saturated my being. Like they might shout that what I was doing was right.
Because it only took a moment for me to realize I might be getting in over my head. Terrified I was making a mistake. Doing it wrong, giving in to this extortion when I had no real assurance that this would actually bring it to an end.
But I’d always known Rhys was worth the risk, and this wasn’t any different.
I’d do this.
Take a chance on giving him this freedom.
Then I’d come back and ask him to tell me.
Beg him to let me in.
To make me understand