Sweet Retribution (Rydeville High Elite #3)(9)

I want to tell Elizabeth that her precious son is a monster, and partly responsible for her soulmate’s death, but she’s hurting enough, so I’ll keep Charlie’s secret.

For now.





CHAPTER FOUR


“What do you think you’re doing?” I ask the next day when a burly guy with cropped reddish-blond hair climbs into the driver’s seat of the red Lexus SUV before I can plant my butt in there.

The garage is packed full of cars, and Elizabeth said to take whichever one I wanted. I make a mental note to ask Drew to help me sneak my Kawasaki from the house and hide it someplace close by.

“Mr. Barron was very exact in his rules, Mrs. Barron,” he says, instantly losing more brownie points. I want to lay into him. To tell him I’ll castrate him if he refers to me as Mrs. Barron again, but I’ve a part to play, and there can be no missteps this time.

“And what exactly were those?” I ask, propping one hand on my hip.

“That I’m to go with you whenever you leave the house and I’m to drive you.”

This is fucking priceless. I whip out my cell and dial Charlie’s number. He answers on the third ring. “I can’t really talk right now, darling,” he says, and I puke a little in my mouth.

“Where are you?” I ask, because he was gone when I woke this morning.

After cleaning his wounds, I left him in the bathroom to shower, while I returned to my room. He didn’t try to join me, and I’m glad to see he still has some modicum of sense left. Because I would’ve gone postal on his ass if he’d attempted to snuggle with me after spending the night screwing some other woman.

“I’m at the office.”

“It’s the day after Christmas. Surely, the office is closed?”

“It was, but I’ve had to call an emergency board meeting to decide how to run the business now my father is gone.” His voice displays no emotion this morning, and I doubt I’ll ever discover the truth behind his father’s demise.

“I need to go to the pharmacy to pick up a script Dr. Wilson called in for your mom, but some goon won’t let me drive myself.”

The man in the ill-fitting suit narrows his eyes ever so slightly in my direction.

“You haven’t driven since you passed your test, Abby.” I can almost hear him smiling down the line.

“It’s a fucking automatic! I think I can manage it. I did get a license after all.”

“Not happening,” he snaps. “You think I don’t know you intend to run to him the first chance you get?” he adds in a lower tone of voice.

He’ll need to grovel to get back into my good graces, and I intend to take full advantage of that, so this is fucking bullshit. “I married you! And I told you I’ve made my decision. I love him, but he’s dead to me now.”

I offer up a silent prayer for forgiveness.

“I want to believe you, but…”

“You’re no better than my father. You realize that? You can’t keep me like a prisoner.”

“I’m not. You are free to go wherever you want, but Jethro will be your shadow until I know you can be trusted.”

Fucking bastard.

“Until I can be trusted? Are you for real?” This is going to make things infinitely harder, and I’m not standing for it. The goon must go. “And do you have a bodyguard? Who’s going to shadow you to ensure you don’t cheat on me again?!”

Jethro’s eyes perk up, and he’s not fast enough to hide his reaction.

Charlie’s heavy breathing echoes down the line, but it’s clear he’s not going to respond.

“I hate you,” I spit out.

“We’ll talk about this later. I’ll see you at dinner.” He hangs up, and I silently seethe as I climb into the back seat, instructing Jethro to take me to town.

When I return, Lillian has gone to her friend’s house, Charlie is still AWOL, and Elizabeth is fast asleep on the couch with an empty bottle of wine lying on the floor at her feet and her wedding video playing on the big screen mounted to the wall. I turn it off, place a blanket over her, and tiptoe out of the room with the empty wine bottle and glass.

I sneak into her en suite bathroom and call Rick first, hoping to speak to Kai, but he’s sleeping again, and I tell him I’ll call later if I get the chance. I really need to speak to him. To hear his voice and know he’s okay. But I won’t stop worrying until I’m looking at him with my own eyes.

I call Xavier next. “Hey, babe. You doing okay?” he asks.

“I’m fine.”

“Abby.” His voice softens. “I know what he did to you. It’s okay to not be okay.”

Intense pain settles on my chest like a ten-ton truck just dropped on top of me. I can scarcely breathe over the pain ripping my insides to shreds.

I cannot think about it.

Not even for a second.

Because I will fall apart, and I need to be at the top of my game. “No,” I whisper, hoping he understands I can’t discuss it.

Xavier curses. “I’m coming over.”

I open my mouth to object, but he’s already hung up on me.

I’ve composed myself by the time he arrives, and I almost trip over my feet when I spot the sweet ride he showed up on. “Holy shit,” I exclaim, stepping outside and deliberately ignoring Jethro. “Where did you get a Yamaha R3 from? And who owns it?”