“Did she say anything?”

“No, but, dude. You—I think maybe . . . well, she . . .” He trailed off.

“What, Mason? Spit it the fuck out.”

He leaned closer. “Remember when we were in with Luis and his boys?”

That was our first undercover; how was I supposed to forget anything about that time? “Yeah, Rach isn’t on crack.”

“No, no. Not that. Do you remember the girls they’d pass around? Not the hookers,” he added before I could respond.

“Yes,” I hissed, and looked at the shut door, then back to him. “Don’t tell me she—”

“Kash, I’m sorry. But she’s acting just like they did. It’s already over ninety degrees and she’s shaking in sweats. She’s not sick, she looks like she’s just gotten out of a shower, and she freaked when we touched her. Think about it.”

“No, no way.” I shook my head and took a few steps away from him.

“Look, I know what she means to you,” he whispered, “but try to look past what you feel for her. Did you see how she was curling in on herself when you walked in? We’ve seen this enough times before to know what’s going on.”

I raked my hands through my hair and tried to force the images out of my mind. “I’ll kill anyone that’s laid a finger on her.” Turning, I started storming out of his room, but he put a hand on my chest and pushed back.

“Maybe I should be the one to handle this; you should go.”

“The fuck I will!” I hissed, and smacked his arm away.

“If what I think happened to her has happened, then she needs someone to comfort her and make her feel safe. You going in there already pissed off that someone may have raped her isn’t going to help her; you’re going to scare her more!”

I swallowed back bile and took deep breaths through my nose. “When would this have even happened? Someone is always with her.”

“No, we’re not, there’s days when Candice doesn’t get home for hours after we’ve already gone into work. Not including the days we have to go to the pol—bar . . . for meetings. It could have been at any time. But, Kash, we don’t know that it has happened yet. So let me handle this.”

“No, you need to go. She means the world to me, not you. I need to be there for her.”

“That’s exactly why it needs to be me!” he said, and I knew he was right but I didn’t care.

“Mase. Go. Now.”

“You’re going to—”

“Go.”

He sighed heavily. “Don’t fuck this up, Kash.”

When he was gone, I took my time just breathing and trying to rein in my temper before walking back out into the empty living room. What the hell? She was gone. I rushed over to the front door, but Rachel walked out of my bedroom putting her hair up. The fakest smile I’d ever seen crossed her face when she spared me a glance.

“Have you eaten breakfast? I can make pancakes.”

What? “I’m not hungry, Rach, come talk to me.”

“You’re always hungry.” She walked past me and into the kitchen.

“If you’re hungry, we can get something later. But for now, come talk to me about what just happened.”

She faltered somewhat but kept walking into the kitchen. When she hit the pantry she shrugged and looked over her shoulder at me. “Mrs. Adams caught me at a bad time, I was just getting out of the shower. I didn’t feel like helping her this week.”

“Bullshit, you’re the only one who will help her. You said she needs it. Why were you crying?”

“Cramps.”

“Woman, get the fuck out of the kitchen and come talk to me!”

Her body went rigid as she turned to completely face me. Her blue eyes were massive and after a few seconds she laughed awkwardly and turned back to the open pantry. “First time in the history of the world a female was told to get out of the kitchen.”

“Damn it, Rachel. I’m not kidding! I want to know what the fuck happened to you; you’re done throwing up your damn shield with me!” Calm down, man. Calm the hell down. You’re going to scare her and she’s going to run rather than talk to you. “Rachel.” I lowered my voice and spoke softly. “Get your ass on the couch. Now.”

Without a word, she made her way back into the living room and sat on the far corner of the main couch, exactly where she’d been when I walked in earlier. Taking another deep breath, I forced myself to sit on the opposite side when all I wanted to do was pace or pull her into my arms. I waited until I’d fully calmed down before saying anything. She still had yet to look at me since she’d sat down, and I decided this was the day I’d throw out that shield for good. I never wanted her to use it around me again.

Praying to God that Mason and I were wrong about this, I started off how I would with anyone else I was questioning. Like I knew exactly what they were hiding. “Tell me who the guy is who did this to you.”

Her head snapped up and her eyes widened before she could look away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her body started shaking again and she pulled her knees up to her chest like earlier.

Oh fuck. No, Rach . . . God, no. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I kept going. “When did it happen?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she repeated.

“What’s his name?”

“Whose?”

“Do you know him, or was it a stranger?”

She paused before answering. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Kash.”

“You know him. Does Candice know about this?”

“Why are you doing this?” she whispered.

God, baby, trust me, I don’t want to be. “When did it happen?”

We continued to go in circles as I asked the same questions over and over, and then asked somewhat different variations of the same questions, every now and then throwing in an assumption, and after almost ten minutes, the tears started falling down her face. It killed me, but I couldn’t stop. I kept my voice monotone and forced myself to stay in my spot on the couch as her body tried hopelessly to curl in on itself while it vibrated almost forcefully. When I finally had her on the edge, I softened my voice and asked the question I didn’t want to know the answer to but needed to.

“When were you raped, Rachel?”

“I wasn’t raped!” she yelled, and her hands flew up to her face as a sob left her. Her shoulders began shaking harder with the sobs that were now coming, and I ground my jaw as I waited for her. “He didn’t—he wasn’t able to finish—Candice came back!” she cried. “He tried . . . he started to, but she came back. I tried to get him off me! He was choking me, I couldn’t breathe.”

“So, Candice knows?”

Her head shook furiously back and forth. “I tried—tried to tell her. She wouldn’t listen, and she won’t believe me. She . . . everyone thinks he can do no wrong. But he’s crazy, Logan.” She looked at me, her tear-streaked face breaking my heart as she willed me to understand. “He told me no one would believe me, he said I was his and he wouldn’t let anyone touch me. H-he’s crazy, I swear!”

“What’s his name?” She shook her head again and I wanted to shake her. “I need to know his name, Rach. What’s his name?”

“He works at the school. I have to see him every day because of my major. Candice too. But no one will believe you. Everyone loves him.”

This sick fuck is a professor? “Name. What’s his name?” When she didn’t respond, I went back to my earlier questions. “Did this happen last night?”

She jerked back and stared at me. “N-no! I haven’t seen him since that night. It was the week before school let out.”

“This morning?”

“I had another nightmare about him. He showed up at the door. This time—” She broke off on a sob. “No one was there to stop him before he finished this time.”

Rachel. I wanted nothing more than to hold her, but with how she’d flinched away from us earlier, that would have been anything but helpful. My heart continued to break as she mumbled, “It felt so real,” over and over again.

Giving her a second, I stood up and walked into my room, threw a pair of sweatpants over my shorts, and shrugged into a sweatshirt. God, how was she shivering? I was already sweating with this on. But if I couldn’t comfort her in the way I wanted to, I was going to do it in the only other way I knew how. I’d just be there for her. When I walked back through the living room, her sobs had quieted, but she was still in a ball. Heading into the kitchen, I grabbed two bottled waters, a spoon, and the pint of Ben and Jerry’s she always made sure I had in the freezer. I put everything on the coffee table, grabbed the remote, and searched the DVR until I found Bridesmaids. I didn’t give a shit about the two hundred dollars or breakfasts I would owe her for this.

Sitting down next to her this time, I picked up the water and ice cream, balanced them on my legs, and turned the volume up. When the movie started, she brought her red face up and glanced at the TV with a furrowed brow before looking over at me. Her eyebrows shot straight up when she saw me.

“What are you wearing?” Her voice was hoarse from crying and I handed her the bottle of water.

“Well, you came over in sweats. I figured I missed the memo or something and had to get in on the party.”

She looked at the TV and back to me, and a small smile cracked when she took the ice cream and spoon from me.

I’d pushed her enough today. I hated knowing what I knew and vowed to one day find out who this guy was. Hopefully now that she knew she could talk to me, she’d open up more when she was ready. But anything more today would be too much. So I settled into the couch and pretended to watch the movie instead of her every move. After a while, she handed me back the half-empty container and leaned against my shoulder. My arm automatically went around her and I pulled her close to my side.