Right.
I hold out my hand for Scarlett. She takes it, and we jog together back to my car. The heat from the burning house pushes at our backs, even from this distance. I glance over my shoulder, eyes wide at the orange and yellow flames glowing in the upstairs windows.
Only one more stop.
Scarlett leans over and kisses me. I take a moment to savor it–again–then pull away.
“Come on,” I say.
She follows me out. We pause and look up at another house. This one is familiar to me, but I doubt she knows where we are–or why.
Tyler withdraws a key from his pocket and skips down the walkway then up the porch steps. He opens the screen door and uses the key to unlock the front door. It swings inward silently, and I guide Scarlett inside.
“Quiet, now,” I whisper in her ear.
I had sort of questioned whether she should come with us for this, but then I reasoned that if she has a hard time with what I’m planning, she’ll just really get her money’s worth out of therapy.
Maybe that’s cruel. It could be just what the doctor ordered, though, right?
Whatever.
I release her once we’re inside. She glances around, her brows furrowed. Tyler shuts us in. He flicks on a handheld flashlight. I find my way to the kitchen and locate the knives then lead the way upstairs.
She follows, with Tyler behind.
I enter the bedroom and flick on the light. Asswipe is still on the floor–I don’t think he even tried to move. He lets out a low moan and hurls himself backward at the intrusion. He drags his leg with him, but the jostling makes him cry out.
He holds up his hands in front of his face. “Don’t come near me!”
I scoff. “Perk up, buddy. Your judge and jury just arrived.”
He slowly lifts his head and focuses on Scarlett. I have half a mind to step between them, but I take in her expression and decide against it. She seems half scared, half shocked. Her wide eyes take in the scene in front of her.
Yeah, that therapist isdefinitelygoing to hear about this.
“We got a video of him confessing what he did to you.” I touch her arm. “But what you want to do with that–and him–is up to you.”
“Cross.” Her voice is low. She grabs my hand and drags me out into the hallway. “What is this?”
“He’s not someone you need to be scared about anymore.”
Her face softens. “I know. But you didn’t need to do this when you’ve already made me feel safer than I have in the last six months just by being you.”
Ah, hell.
“So…” My attention drifts back to the open doorway. “The leg was a bit much?”
A giggle bubbles out of her. She slaps her hand over her mouth. I smile in return.
“What’s the plan?” I ask her. “Perfect scenario?”
“He never sleeps with another person ever again.”
I raise my eyebrow. “Ruthless, but we can arrange that…”
She makes a face. “No. You’re right. I just want him to go away forever.”
“Our justice system doesn’t really work like that, does it? Not for rich white guys like him.”
