Rulers of Deception (27 page)

“Christ,” he whispered, scrubbing his face with his hands. Without a word, he got to his feet and knelt down before her. He held her chin in his hand and urged her to look at him. “Tell me the truth, sweetheart. Was this staged like the others?”

A tear slid down her cheek. “I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

“Then it was.” Wyatt cupped her face, staring at her intently. “Did he force himself on you?”

“I don’t remember,” she repeated, closing her eyes now as more tears fell. “I went to the bar with him. After that there’s nothing.”

“He must have slipped you a roofie.” Disgusted, Wyatt pulled her out of the chair and into his arms. When she broke down and started crying, he held her close and grieved with her. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here.”

Madison buried her face in his neck and gave in to the destruction. If only for this moment, she’d cry over what had happened to her. But after the moment was over, there would be no more room left for tears. There could only be revenge.

“I don’t even
know what to say about this,” Linc muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. He held the images of Madison and Daniel in his hands, mortified by what he saw.

Grant stood beside him, just as shaken. Knowing his sister had been violated this way destroyed something deep within him. All he could think of was her at six years old, playing in the park with him and Linc. And now this.

He backed away and walked to the window of his office, unable to look any longer. Tucking his hands into the pockets of his slacks, he stared out at the city, lost in thought.

First Quinn, then Lynette, and now Madison. All were the victims of staged scandals, none of which appeared to be factual. Though Madison’s was arguably the most difficult to disprove, Grant knew in his heart that Madison would never lower herself to adultery. She had her sins, but she loved Wyatt too much to do this knowingly.

Which left the puzzling question of who was staging these events and taking the photographs, and was Daniel involved? It seemed unlikely he didn’t know he was being photographed with her. After all, he’d made a point to sit facing the window, in plain sight for all to see. It would have been a piece of cake to take the photographs from across the street. But who had taken them, and why?

The mysterious photographer had still not gone to the press with the images, despite the escalating threats to do so. What were they waiting for?

Not having any answers disturbed Grant almost more than the images themselves. If he didn’t have answers, that meant he had no solution, either, which left him feeling helpless. His family was suffering and there was nothing he could do. Except, of course, get answers from Daniel. But first he needed to decide how best to approach him.

Wyatt was busy adding rounds to his revolver, fully prepared to kill Daniel. When Linc came out of the haze of shock and realized what his friend was doing, he sat down on the sofa beside Wyatt and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You know that won’t fix this.”

“I don’t want to fix it. I want to kill him,” Wyatt grunted, spinning the now-filled chamber once before closing it. There was a darkness in his voice, a violence that honed and sharpened every word. “You didn’t see her face. I’ve never seen her look so broken.”

Linc let out a heavy sigh, grateful he hadn’t seen her. It would’ve made it that much more difficult to be reasonable. “Trust me. If I had my way we’d be at that bastard’s place right now playing pin the bullet on the jackass, but you and I both know that isn’t an option.”

“I’m not afraid to go to prison.” Wyatt shot Linc a look that was more than a little crazy. “If that’s what it takes to get retribution then so be it.”

Linc’s brow furrowed, troubled by the madness in his friend’s eyes. “Look, we just need to call the cops and have him arrested.”

“They won’t arrest him,” Grant told him, still staring out the window. “There isn’t enough proof.”

“We have pictures that show he gave her a drink, made a move on her, and then left with her.” Linc lifted the photographs as if to demonstrate. “How is this not proof enough?”

Grant turned around, expression unreadable. “If he did use Rohypnol to drug her, it won’t be traceable in her system. The only proof we have is her word, which is devalued by these pictures that make it look consensual.”

“Are you saying you don’t believe her?” Wyatt charged, jumping to his feet with the gun clutched in his right hand. He held it loosely at his side, his hand trembling once with barely contained rage. “You seriously think she fucked that creep willingly?”

“No, I don’t.” Grant stood firm, not wanting to escalate a fight. Not when tempers were running understandably hot. “What I
am
saying is there’s another way to get him arrested for this. A better way.”

“Better than killing him?” Wyatt asked, not convinced.

“No, but it’s at least legal,” Grant replied.

“Okay, I’m intrigued,” Linc said, mouth twisting in a hard smile. He clapped his hands together and rubbed them excitedly. “Tell me how we’re gonna get this asshole.”

It irritated her
to be sent home like a damaged child, but Madison found she had no other choice. She was having a hard time functioning at work, not to mention Wyatt refused to let her stay. He drove her home personally and helped her into bed, offering to stay with her if she wanted.

She didn’t. The last thing she wanted was his pity, his anger. His sense of duty to protect her. Damnit, she had always been good at protecting herself. Until now.

So she’d sent him away with barely a word and crawled into the comfort of her own bed, mentally exhausted. Her body still felt weaker than normal, her mind fuzzy and lost at times. The effect of what must have been a powerful prescription drug still pulsed through her system, making it difficult to do more than lie there helplessly. With no other option, she buried herself beneath the covers and curled into a fetal position, weakened beyond repair for the first time in her entire life.

Knowing Daniel had robbed her of her dignity and strength burned a hole in her heart, leaving it charred and mangled. The simple fact that any one person, much less a weak, pathetic excuse of a man like Daniel, could have the power to do so infuriated her. He’d needed to drug her to gain that power, but nonetheless he’d done it successfully. Somehow she’d let herself become a victim, a statistic. She couldn’t believe she’d been such a fool.

There were no tears left. Those she’d released and left behind at the hotel while in Wyatt’s arms. At least he believed her. If he hadn’t—if she’d faced this horror alone—she didn’t know what would happen. Maybe in some ways it would be easier; she’d always valued being alone before. But Wyatt was too much a part of her life now to discount his worth. As much as she hated to admit it, she needed him. And having him in her life allowed her to let her guard down, to feel safe at times when danger could strike. Look at where that got her. Drugged, violated, raped, humiliated. Words she’d never thought could apply to her. It was unacceptable. Unforgivable. And worthy of a very exacting, horrific revenge.

Her jaw clenched along with her fists as she imagined squeezing the life out of Daniel’s throat. Watching his pale eyes bulge with fear, his mouth parted in a strangled cry for mercy. She had no room for mercy in her blackened heart. No space left for forgiveness. Not for this.

The image brought her some measure of joy, so she held onto it and shoved aside the covers. Sitting up, she stared around her bedroom, comforted to be back where she belonged. It was here she would rebuild her strength, her resolve. And with those two things in place, plotting revenge would come as naturally as breathing.

She wasn’t going to be a victim. That word was a escape, an excuse. She’d be a survivor.

Leaving her bedroom, she went into the kitchen to pop a few Advil and down them with a glass of orange juice. Repairing the damage to her body was step number one, followed quickly by uncovering her enemy’s motive. Why had he done this to her? Was it simply an act of insatiable lust, a hunger for control? Or was it all planned like the staged photographs of Quinn and Lynette? Had she been the target—just as they were—by some anonymous scandal junkie?

It made sense. There was no way Daniel had the forethought or nerve to do this to her on his own. He must have been goaded into it by someone. But who?

It occurred to her then that she had a bargaining chip she hadn’t played yet, one that could prove useful in uncovering the truth. There was more than one person hovering in plain sight who wasn’t what they appeared to be. In all likelihood, some kind of elaborate con was being set up to nail her family to the wall.

And she was positive that Daniel was at the heart of it.

I
f it had been over anything else, Wyatt would have stood his ground and stayed with her. But when Madison ordered him to give her space, he’d been helpless to do anything but obey. In the end, he partially blamed himself for what had happened to her. He hadn’t been able to protect her despite all his vows to do so. And while he was grateful she wasn’t a victim of the cartel as he’d feared, this was in so many ways harder for him to bear.

He still carried his gun, hidden in the inside pocket of his jacket. It was off the black market so if he was caught with it he’d go to jail, but necessity outweighed the risk. If the cartel approached him again, or if he saw the monster who’d raped his wife, the gun would be a handy tool for both defense and revenge.

With no place else to go, he shacked up alone in a room at the Vasser Hotel, a small suitcase with some clothes tossed beside the bed. He felt like he was being punished by Madison, like he’d done something wrong. Maybe he had. If he hadn’t been lying to her about the cartel, if he hadn’t argued with her that night, she would have never gone to Daniel. This was as much his fault as it was her own carelessness.

Knowing it made guilt his new best friend.

He didn’t know Daniel, had never met the guy. But from what Grant and Linc had said about the creep, it seemed unlikely he was working alone. Someone else took those pictures, someone with a motive to shame Madison and the others. Daniel had simply been a tool used for some bigger purpose, but whose purpose was it?

Could it really be Franco? Was this all part of his notorious scheming to ruin the lives of those he hunted? As farfetched as it seemed, Wyatt had to wonder if this was more his fault than he’d originally assumed.