“Yes,” Colt finally whispers. I don’t even think he’s blinked since he started looking at it. “That’s her.”

I have to wonder why James would tear her picture apart. Maybe it was a moment of anger like he was venting his rage at her sudden death. But he still couldn’t bring himself to let go of the photo. Not that this in any way makes up for what he’s done or who he is, but it’s sort of a tool in a way. It gives me an idea of the man he is, the real man inside. Not a weapon, per se, but it never hurts to know the enemy.

Nix lowers his half of the picture but doesn’t let it go. “Don’t ever, ever mention her again. Not for any reason. Not to us, and definitely not to Dad. Do you understand?” Nothing about the way he says it is nasty or bullying, which might be why his words have such an impact.

“And you never found this,” Colt adds. “Got it?”

It must be their intensity that does it, or maybe it’s the way they are obviously shaken at the sight of her. Whatever the reason, it’s easy to agree. “Yeah, fine. I’ll never bring it up.”

With that, they leave me alone, and I drop to the bed before putting my head in my hands. That was my last chance. I know it. And since things have only escalated every day, I know it’s going to be worse tonight than it was last night.

If only I had gone out the window right away instead of searching the desk. I might have gotten away.

* * *

I know he’s home because I hear him down there. He’s looking forward to another night of fun. He sounds upbeat, even happy. I hate it so much to know he’s going to get what he wants. That’s the last thing he deserves.

The click of the lock doesn’t come as a surprise. By the time Nix steps into my room, I’m showered and my legs are shaved, the whole nine yards. I would hate to see what would happen if I kept James waiting, no matter how it kills me to know he’ll be pleased. I’m not so stubborn that I would push his buttons on purpose.

Nix is holding a glass of wine, which he extends my way. “Trust me.”

Trust him? That’s a laugh. I take it to the bathroom and dump it down the sink before returning to him, glaring, daring him to say something. All I get is a disbelieving smirk and a slight shake of his head. “There’s no helping some people.”