And yet, I kept defending him for a multitude of complicated reasons. Because I was afraid that Joe might try to keep me from Reeve. Because I didn’t want his investigation to get Reeve in trouble. Because he’d reminded me I was his that afternoon, and I was determined to act like it.
Because now more than ever I needed to use Reeve to find some answers. Because I had to know what happened to Amber and he was the only sure lead I had.
And he hadn’t actually killed her so my loyalty to him didn’t conflict with my loyalty to her. At least, that’s what my current story was and I wasn’t about to challenge it.
“Why did you call off the investigation, Emily?” Joe asked, pulling me from my internal dialogue.
I blinked at him, trying to determine what he was looking for in my answer, suspecting it was another attempt to make sure I hadn’t been pressured. But his expression gave nothing away, so I told him the truth. “I don’t want to put you in that kind of danger. I don’t want it to be my fault if anything happens to you.”
“There could be others still in danger.” He was quieter now. “Others that might be saved if we can figure out what happened with Amber.”
He wants to keep investigating. It was a surprise flip of tables from when we’d first met and I was pleading and Joe was skeptical. “You said you didn’t want to get in this deep,” I reminded him.
He shrugged. “So I lied. I’m invested now. Let me find out what happened to her.”
My voice was tight so I simply nodded. Once I swallowed down the ball in my throat, I said, “But no more looking into Reeve. I meant it when I said I didn’t want this in the way of my relationship with him.”
He let out a reluctant sigh. “Okay. Okay,” he finally conceded. “I’ll make up something when I bill you. I’ll charge you for shooting lessons or something.”
I forced a smile that I couldn’t hold. “I’ll see what I can find out through Reeve. I haven’t dug nearly as deep as I can.”
Joe’s expression grew concerned yet again. “You can’t save her anymore, Emily. You don’t need to do anything risky.”
“I know.”
“Okay. Because if you have any reason to think it’s not safe, I can help you get away from him.”
Was it fucked up that I didn’t even consider it? “I told you, I’m —”
“I know, I know. You’re fine.” He ran a hand through his short hair. “I’ll get you another burner phone. In the meantime, don’t use your cell to call me.”
“Be careful,” we both said in unison. At least I was pretty sure that one of us would take the advice.
Numbly, I paid for my drink, which I tossed on the way out the door. I sat in the car in a daze, letting the engine idle as blame came in the form of “if only.” If only I’d heard the message sooner. If only I’d visited my mother more often. If only I’d tried to contact her when I saw her picture in that magazine. If only I’d never left her. She’d saved me, and when I had the chance to return the favor, I’d let her down.
I beat my fist on the steering wheel, again, again, wanting it to hurt, wanting to feel better. Behind me, a car honked. All the pumps were in use and I was hogging the one I was parked in front of, but I leaned out my window and cursed at the other driver anyway. Then I took off, giving the bird as I pulled out into traffic.
I drove mindlessly, not paying attention to where I was or what time it was. Drove in complete silence. Even the thousand thoughts that wanted a spotlight in my head were respectfully reticent, as though granting a moratorium while I dealt with how to just be in a world without Amber. How to keep my heart beating and my lungs operational. How to keep my car on the road, in the correct lane, obeying the traffic signs.
After a while – minutes, hours, I didn’t know – the reprieve tapered off and half-ideas slipped in with the conviction of plans. Promises. Reeve’s cousins. His guest room. Get to his ranch. His staff. The common thread always him. He was my only chance for finding out what happened to Amber. He might not have all the answers, but he had some.
By the time I turned the Jag toward his house, he was pulling me in other ways. Distraction. Comfort. Reason. Preoccupation. He was the source of everything I needed now. The path to closure, an asylum for pain, a place to find truth, a place to hide.
For good or bad, all roads led back to him. Perhaps that’s what it meant to really be his.
CHAPTER 21
It was a quarter after ten when I arrived at Reeve’s. If I got punished for being late, so be it. I welcomed it. I deserved it.
I took a minute to fix my makeup before going in, thankful I wore waterproof mascara. A staff member I didn’t recognize let me in without any greeting or instruction. It was fine. I knew where I was supposed to be and I hurried toward my destination in case Reeve was already waiting for me.
As I crossed the living room, I heard men’s voices and the distinct sound of a pool rack being broken. I might not have been compelled to look in if I hadn’t also heard women’s laughter.
Quietly, I went to the threshold of the game room and peeked in. Reeve was there, in loose jeans and a button-down open over a T-shirt, chalking a cue stick as he chatted with another man, indistinctive except for his cowboy boots. Two more men played darts on the other side of the space while two leggy girls that couldn’t have been any older than twenty-two watched on.
A third girl – blond, busty, beautiful – was draped over the pool table, encouraging Reeve to take his turn.