"Tell me what happened," Blade said, keeping his voice even despite his growing concern. Her reaction wasn't that of someone with nothing to hide.
"He..." She hesitated, then seemed to steel herself. "He helped me escape."
That wasn't what Blade had expected. "Escape? From his own brother's MC?"
She nodded, still not meeting his eyes. "Tim isn't like the rest of them. He never wanted to be part of the Rejects. He just tends bar at The Citadel because they make him. I don’t think he is loyal to them. He… he has his own secrets."
Blade processed this. It fit with what they knew about Tim. With help from Dax, a local police detective, and Jay the owner of The Citadel, they’d poured over a year’s worth of video surveillance. When Tim met with The Rejects, there was almost a reluctance, a hesitance. His face and body language hadn’t screamed,willing participant.
"So he helped you get away," Blade prompted. "How?"
"They locked me in a room at their compound after I... after I failed to get information from your club. Once Savage took Savannah under protection and they couldn’t get to her, they snatched me. They were worried I knew too much and would talk," she explained. "Tim snuck me out through a back exit, gave me his car keys and some cash."
"Why would he do that? Risk his life for someone he barely knew?"
At this, Lily finally looked up, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Because I reminded him of his daughter."
Blade frowned. "Tim doesn't have a daughter."
"Yes, he does," Lily insisted. "Her name is Emma. She's six. Lives with her mom in Denver. He's not allowed to see her because of his ties to the Rejects. She’s his brother’s way of controlling him."
Christ. If that was true, it changed things. "Go on."
"Tim came to bring me food that night. Found me... hurt." She swallowed hard. "He looked at the wire burns on my ankles, and something in him just snapped. Said no one deserved to be treated that way, especially not someone's little girl."
Blade felt a surge of fury at the reminder of her injuries, but kept his expression neutral. "So he helped you escape. Then what?"
"I drove to that motel," she said. "It was the only place I could think of that might not require ID. I paid cash, kept to myself. But I was afraid to leave, afraid they'd find me if I tried to run further."
"And you haven't seen or heard from Tim since that night?"
She shook her head. "No. I assumed he'd covered for me somehow... said I escaped on my own, maybe."
Blade ran a hand over his face. "Tim's missing, Lily. His apartment was torn apart. There was blood, a lot of it. It doesn’t look good."
All color drained from her face. "No," she whispered. "Oh God. They figured it out. They know he helped me."
"That's what it looks like," Blade agreed grimly.
"This is my fault," she said, her voice breaking. "He helped me, and now he's going to die because of it."
"You don't know that," Blade said, though he didn't entirely believe his own words. Based on the amount of blood at the scene, and the level of betrayal, Tim was as good as dead. If he wasn't already.
Lily's eyes filled with tears. "Yes, I do. You don't know Zeb. He's... he's sadistic. He enjoys hurting people. Especially people who betray him. Tim, he was a constant reminder that Zeb had eyes and ears everywhere, but… he was kind. He never threatened me. He never hurt me. Having him around was almost a relief. He… differed from Zeb and his men."
The first tear spilled over, trailing down her cheek. Something in Blade's chest tightened at the sight. Before he could think better of it, he moved to the couch, sitting beside her and pulling her against his chest. She stiffened for a moment, then melted into him, her small body shaking with silent sobs.
"Listen to me," he said firmly, one hand cradling the back of her head. "This is not your fault. Tim made his choice. He knew the risks."
"But if I hadn't?—"
"No," Blade cut her off. "You don't get to take that on. The only people responsible for Tim's situation are the ones who hurt him. Zeb and his crew of psychopaths."
She pressed her face into his shirt, her tears soaking through to his skin. He let her cry, his hand moving in slow, soothing circles on her back.
When her sobs finally subsided, she pulled back slightly, wiping at her eyes with the backs of her hands. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I got your shirt wet."
"I've got others," he said dryly.
