Wicked Need (The Wicked Horse Series Book 3)(63)

This of course raised a huge, red flag to the detective and has motivated him to push harder to find my attacker, who could then possibly turn on Kevin.

The other thing that happened was Richard called me that evening, as apparently he’d been questioned by the detective via telephone immediately after Kevin was. If I can believe him, and I think I can, Richard was appalled that Kevin claimed there was another will and used that to kick me out of the house. He confirmed for me what Bridger had revealed just four days ago.

I was going to get five million dollars, the Jackson house, and apparently yearly profits in the amount of ten percent. Richard didn’t seem put out in the slightest. The best thing that happened was he assured me Kevin had vacated the house today to return to Vegas and I could move back immediately if I wanted. He also opened up a bank account in my name and transferred some immediate funds until he could get a larger transfer done, as well as turned my credit cards back on, not that it mattered. I had cut those cards up days ago, as I didn’t want anything reminding me that I was once Catherine Vaughn. I even went and got a new Wyoming driver’s license with my maiden name of Lyons, although I hadn’t decided whether or not to stay here.

About the only thing I have decided is that Rand has become important enough to me that I’ve decided to cut him loose.

I know he has faith in me.

I know he sees something within me that I just can’t seem to recognize myself.

I know, without a doubt, that he believes we could have something solid and long lasting between us.

Unfortunately, I just don’t believe that.

While it warmed me down to my toes when he told me that he was crazy about me and was falling in love with me, cold reality soon settled in as I lay in his arms that night. I thought about all the things that make me a wretched human being and felt myself growing colder on the inside, a slithering cloud of blackness filling me up.

I’m a woman who let dozens of men f*ck me.

Defile me.

Humiliate me.

I let my husband force me to have sex with people who were as vile and disgusting as he was.

I let him make me have sex with his own son, for God’s sake.

I sat there like a doormat and took that abuse for years, and why did I do it?

Because the money and having a place to live was more important than my self-respect. At any time, I could have walked out that door and gone back to stripping. It may not have been the best life, but it was an honest one, and I could have gotten right back up on that stage and been able to support myself just fine.

But if I’m being absolutely honest with myself, and reflecting on the true nature of myself so I can decide what to do about Rand, then I have to admit I was perfectly willing to let myself be defiled and humiliated so I could keep the fancy house, Mercedes, and designer clothing. I whored myself out for a cushy life and that right there tells me all I need to know about my true character.

And that is not someone who would ever be worthy of Rand Bishop.

The only problem was that I didn’t know how to go about breaking it off. We spent the weekend together just hanging out in the apartment, f*cking constantly. It was desperately pathetic on my part because I wanted to hold onto the physical pleasure with him just a little bit longer, knowing that there would never be another man comparable to him in my bed. It goes without saying there will never be another who is comparable in my heart either. Since I’m being honest about all the terrible things that make up Cat Lyons, I can also be truthful and admit I do love Rand. I love him enough to make sure he does far better than me.

All weekend, Rand was careful in his words with me, preferring to take more of a backseat when it came to talking about the future or feelings. I think he was giving me “space” to come to the same conclusions he did, but all I realized is that while I cared for him more than anything in this world, I was nowhere near good enough for him.

I simply don’t deserve him.

He absolutely doesn’t deserve a woman like me.

We both went back to work on Monday as usual—him to the tattoo shop and me to the Hayes’ campaign headquarters—and it killed me to come home last night to find he made dinner for us. It was the perfect picture of domesticity, and it made me realize I could not let his hope continue to build.

So when I got up this morning for work, I knew I needed to send a decisive message to him that I was most certainly not the one for him. The note on the kitchen table telling him I was spending the evening at The Silo should do the trick, even though I’m sick to my stomach about it.

I need to stay strong. This is the best way… to remind him of who I am deep down so he can realize his heart is being wasted on someone like me.

Walking up to the bar, I glance around at the patrons. I should just choose someone, f*ck him fast, and get it over with. That will, for me at least, cut the ties to Rand. Once I’m with someone else, I know it’s over.

Instead, I decide to order a drink to calm my nerves. I take a seat at the bar and order a glass of wine, sipping on it while contemplating how much my life sucks at this moment. Two men approach me, but I decline the invitation. I tell myself I’m enjoying my wine and want to finish it first, although truthfully, I don’t even know what kind I’m sipping.

“Odd… seeing you here,” I hear from behind me and recognize the gravel-like timber to Bridger’s voice. I don’t even bother to look at him as he takes the seat next to me.