Maya Banks - The Darkest Hour

“I don’t hate her. I didn’t mean to hurt her, I swear. It just all came out. I envied the way everyone seems to rally around her. I was afraid now that she’s back that Marlene wouldn’t want me to stay anymore. I thought maybe I was some lame replacement for Rachel.”

“Rusty.”

She whipped her head around at Frank’s gravelly voice. Even the others stopped whatever it was they were going to say. It was obvious they respected their father. They loved him and he held sway over his sons.

“Come here,” he directed as he shoved forward in his recliner.

On trembling legs she pushed up from the hearth and took the few steps to where he sat. Oh God, if he denounced her in front of everyone, it would kill her.

She couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t stand to see the judgment in his eyes.

Instead he took her hand in his much larger one, one that was wrinkled and weathered by age. He squeezed comfortingly, and her astonished gaze swung to meet his.

“You were never a replacement for Rachel. Marlene, bless her heart, has decreed that you’re part of the Kelly clan. God help you. That means for better or worse you’re family. Now, not everyone has to like it. I can’t shield you from that. You have to earn your stripes in this family. You don’t automatically get respect or privilege. You earn it.”

Her mouth fell open. She had no response, no defense for the acceptance and forgiveness she saw in his eyes. She didn’t deserve it, but she wanted it. Oh God, she wanted it so badly she could taste it.

She heard a strangled protest behind her, but a disapproving look from Frank silenced it immediately.

“You owe Rachel an apology,” he said sternly. “You also owe my boys an apology for bandying their business about.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

He nodded approvingly. Then his gaze softened until the lines at the corners of his eyes wrinkled and spread out.

“This won’t be the last time you screw up. Just don’t make a habit of it. Around here, we take responsibility for our mistakes. We don’t hide from them. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” she said again, stronger this time.

RACHEL stumbled out of the therapist’s office, inhaling the smell of new paint, new drywall. The entire neat little building was sparkly new. It was a gorgeous office. The kind you didn’t mind sitting in while waiting forever for your appointment. Only she couldn’t wait to get out. The walls were closing in around her and so was her panic.

“Rachel.”

The therapist’s voice slithered like barbwire over her nerves. Kate . . . Kate Waldruff. Or something like that. Perfectly nice. Understanding. Professional. Appropriately sympathetic. It was all Rachel could do not to childishly put her hands over her ears.

Instead she stopped and turned around to face the worried expression of the therapist. Rachel’s heart thudded so painfully against her breast that she put one palm over her chest as if to hold it in.

“I wish you’d let me call someone for you at least. You’re upset.”

Rachel tried to smile. “I’m okay. Really. I just want to go home. Thank you for trying to help.”

Kate sighed. “I can’t work miracles in one session, Rachel. Give it some thought. Call me back when you’re ready. I’ll fit you in no matter what.”

Rachel nodded and fled the sterile office building, out into the bright sunlight that nearly blinded her. She got into Ethan’s SUV before she gave in to the horrible itching.

Her flesh felt alive. Ants. Bugs. Thousands of them. They’d invaded her bloodstream, and there was only one thing she knew that would make them go away.

She licked her lips. Right now she’d give anything for a needle. Anything at all. It shamed her, but desperation made up for a lot of shame.

The session had sliced her open. Made her feel so bare and vulnerable and helpless. God, she hated the helplessness above all else. Intellectually she knew, she knew that one session wasn’t a cure-all. But somehow she’d hoped that by some miracle the therapist could listen to her rattle on about absolutely nothing and then offer a pat solution. Then she could go home, get on with her life and live happily ever after.

Need, harsh and edgy, rose until she thought she might go mad with it. She gripped the steering wheel and stared over the parking lot to the small grocery store across the highway. There was a teenage boy doing stunts on his skateboard.

Would he know how to score what she so desperately needed? How did she even broach such a subject. Hey, kid, know where I can get drugs?

Her door was open and her legs swung down so her feet met the pavement before she realized what she was doing. She stood, shielded by the window, staring in horror at the boy. Just a kid. Someone she had been perfectly willing to ask to break the law.

She pressed a fist to her mouth to stifle the sob working from the depths of her soul. What was she thinking? Had she honestly gotten out of the truck with the intention of buying drugs?

She’d like to tell herself no way in hell, but she knew differently. If he was closer, if she had more courage, if she wasn’t afraid of ruining what was left of her life, she’d be over there in a heartbeat, braving everything for temporary relief from the clawing pain so deep she might never be able to assuage it.

Before she could do something incredibly stupid, she threw herself back into the truck and started the ignition. With jerky movements, she thrust the truck into gear and roared out of the parking lot and onto the highway toward home.

She shook from head to toe, her hands rattling against the steering wheel. Tears streamed from her eyes until she could barely make out the road in front of her.

Had her life come to this? Had she finally come home—a place she’d convinced herself didn’t really exist in those long, harrowing days in captivity—only to piss away any chance she had of a normal life?

What was it about her that she was trying to destroy her life? She was doing her best to think the worst of her marriage, of a man who’d risked everything for her. She had a family who loved her and supported her unconditionally, and she was prepared to ruin not only her life, but the life of some kid she didn’t even know, and to destroy the people who loved her.

Maybe she was as crazy as she secretly feared. Maybe the bastards who’d held her had destroyed her after all.

She felt completely and utterly broken.

She had no idea of the miles she’d traveled, only that she was driving too fast and too recklessly. Something deep within crumbled and she felt precariously light. The sound of a horn blaring wrenched her from her desolation long enough for her to swerve back into her lane.

She pulled to the shoulder and cut the engine, knowing she couldn’t drive another mile. She gripped the steering wheel at the top and buried her face against the backs of her wrists and wept.

SEAN Cameron topped the hill and automatically slowed when he saw the SUV pulled to the shoulder. No flashers were on even though he could see someone in the driver’s seat. He frowned. It looked a lot like Ethan’s vehicle. But the driver was too small to be Ethan. It looked more like a woman. Or a really short man.

As he neared, he radioed plates and pulled behind the vehicle. He didn’t have to wait for the dispatcher to come back. It was definitely Ethan’s truck.

Checking back for oncoming traffic, he got out and cautiously approached. In the sideview mirror he caught the image of a woman bent over the steering wheel. Rachel.

He dropped his hand from his holster and hurried forward. He could see her shoulders shaking through the window, but she never even registered his presence.

Not wanting to frighten her, he carefully tapped on the glass. She reacted violently, yanking herself up, her ravaged, tearstained face staring back at him. Her pupils dilated—in fear? His chest tightened at the idea that he’d inadvertently scared her.

“Open the door, Rachel,” he said, loud enough so she could hear through the glass.

For a moment he thought she’d refuse, and then her eyes dulled in resignation, and she hesitantly opened the door a crack.

He pried the door from her fingers and then went down on one knee. “What’s wrong, Rachel? Are you okay? Did you have an accident?”

He couldn’t see any damage to the vehicle, but he hadn’t been around it for a full inspection.

A low sob welled from her throat and more tears trickled down her cheeks.

“You should arrest me, Sean.”

Of all the things he’d thought she might say, that wasn’t one of them. He rocked back, completely poleaxed by her statement.

He eyed passing traffic with concern. This wasn’t the best place to hash out whatever Rachel thought he should arrest her for, and it was obvious this wasn’t something that would be solved in one or two minutes.

He rose and reached gently for her elbow. “Come sit in my car with me. I’d feel better if we were farther out of the line of traffic. Then you can tell me what’s bothering you.”

She looked so damn forlorn that it discomfited him. Hell, he dealt with women in various forms of distress all the time through his job. He arrested them, gave them bad news, took reports from the abused, but he didn’t know any of them.

She stared ahead, biting her lower lip as if she couldn’t decide what she should do.

“Come on, honey,” he said a little more forcefully. “Let’s go talk about it and then I’ll get you home.”

She turned her gaze to him and her eyes filled with tears again. “I can’t go home, Sean.”