Among the Echoes (Wrecked and Ruined #2.5)(50)

"Jesus Christ," Slate says, squeezing me tight.

"Please just let me finish."

He nods, but I know that, as much as he wants to know the rest, he doesn’t want to hear it.

"My patient, Miguel Rodriguez, was a very prominent member of one of the largest drug rings in Miami. Which, by the way, is where I’m from," I throw in with a shrug, knowing that I point-blank lied to him about that months ago. "Well, Miguel’s brother, Dom, decided to switch teams and work with Darren Wilkes, another prominent member of the drug world. Leo knows a lot more about this part than I do, but basically, Dom brought me in, playing the concerned-brother role as an excuse to see Miguel, then killed him in cold blood. I guess the cancer wasn’t doing it fast enough. Dom ordered his right-hand man to kill me since I’d witnessed it."

Slate flinches at my words, but he doesn’t say anything in response.

"I grew up with my aunt after my parents died when I was three. She was fifty-five when she took me in and passed away my first year of college. I have no family and I’ve always kind of kept to myself, so really, I was an easy mark for them." I pause, catching his eye. I know Slate, and this next part is going to hurt him more than it will for me to tell it. I toss his words right back at him. "You ready?"

He exhales and drags me in for a hug. He buries his head in my neck, and I can feel his heart racing against my chest. "Fuck, Riley. I am absolutely not ready."

"Erica," I correct him, needing to hear him say it again.

He lifts his head. "Is that what you want me to call you from now on?"

"It’s kinda my name," I say with a broken smile.

"Okay then. Erica, tell me everything." He traces a hand up my back under my shirt.

I need to make sure he knows something first. The things I’m about to tell him will change everything, but before it does, I want him to know another truth.

"I love you. I didn’t respond earlier, but I do."

"Fuck, Erica," he hisses. "Tell me you trust me?" he asks, and I can finally give him an honest answer.

"Completely."

Without another word spoken, he rolls me to my back, covering me with his huge body and kissing me with both reverence and lust. I’m not afraid as his weight settles over my body. Instead, I’ve never felt safer in my life. His warm tongue glides in my mouth and I roll my hips into his. He groans but all too quickly moves away.

"I just want you to know nothing you say is going to change anything, beautiful. So don’t pull any punches. I don’t want to have this conversation again."

I offer him a relieved smile. His words give me a little comfort, but he has no idea what he is getting into. It’s easy to say that nothing will change now.

"Okay. Let’s get this over with." He pulls me back toward him and we resume our position on our sides. This time, I tangle my legs with his, needing to feel him so I can’t get lost in the past.

"How much do you want of this?"

"As much as you are willing to give."

I sigh. That was the right and completely wrong answer. "I was taken back to one of Dom’s houses, where I was tied to a bed and raped by over eight men," I rush out as if it were like ripping off a Band-Aid.

I wait for him to react. Maybe back away and reconsider his desire to be with me, or even just to get angry. But it never comes. His strong jaw clenches as he grits his teeth, but otherwise, he remains emotionless.

"Just when I thought it was over, Darren Wilkes showed up. To call him a sick bastard would be the understatement of the century. He sat between my legs and took a knife, slicing up my thighs and over my vagina." I don’t get the words out of my mouth before Slate explodes off the bed.

"What the f*ck!" he shouts. His eyes are wild as he begins pacing around the bed, shoving a hand through his hair and cussing words I never knew existed. He finally stills but only long enough to throw a fist through the drywall.

I’ve been through enough therapy to know that none of this was my fault, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m embarrassed and ashamed all the same. I sit Indian style on the bed, knotting my hands in my lap while watching him unravel. Finally, after a few minutes, he snaps out of it and focuses his attention back on me.

"Shit, Erica. I’m sorry." He kneels on the bed and pulls me into his arms.

I go willingly, but for the first time since I met him, it feels awkward and forced. Slate wasn’t supposed to ever know this stuff about me. Now, he knows too much.

I lean away, trying to collect my thoughts, but he stops me. "Don’t do that. Don’t pull away from me. I don’t care, beautiful. This changes nothing."

I nod, but he’s wrong. It changes everything.

"What happened to him—the man who did that to you?" he asks quietly.

"Leo killed him." His eyes go wide and he leans back to get a better look at my face. "Leo was an undercover agent for the DEA. He shot Darren while he sat between my legs. Then he killed his two guards and rescued me from that hell." Finally, the pent-up emotions escape my eyes.

"So you two are not related?" he asks while using his thumbs to dry the tears that steadily fall from my eyes.

"No. But I love him more than any bloodline could ever dictate."