Page 47 of Fighting for Scarlett

Scarlett turned to ask Tate what he thought and what the plan was when he whirled on her.

“Do you know how they found you?” he demanded, grabbing her by the shoulders and leaning down so they were eye to eye.

The softer Tate that had just been emerging back at his place was gone, the cold, hard, angry Tate was back.

Pain tore through her heart, but again along with it came an arrow of anger.

Tate didn't get to hurl more accusations at her.

He didn't get to blame her.

He didn't get to keep treating her like she had done something wrong.

She was sick and tired of all the accusations.

Enough.

Reaching her breaking point, Scarlett acted without thinking. The crack of her hand connecting with Tate’s cheek and the sting in her palm caught her by surprise.

Tate, too, if the way his eyes widened in shock before narrowing was any indication.

“Don’t you dare accuse me of being a traitor again,” she snarled, surprising herself at the venom dripping from her every word. All her life she’d been shut out, left out, told to just get over it, and that wanting her own parents to actually care about her made her weak. All her life she’d just taken it. She hadn't raged at her parents, she hadn't raged at her grandparents, she hadn't raged at her brother when he joined the military and left her behind.

But now she was so consumed with anger there was no way she could keep it inside.

“I’ve already told you—told everyone—a hundred times already. I didn't write any email, I didn't make any deals, I wasn’t selling the Reactivator to anyone, I didn't do anything wrong,” she seethed, so angry she was actually vibrating with it.

How dare Tate accuse her all over again after everything they shared last night.

Stupidly, she had believed that him having sex with her proved that he believed she was innocent.

What an idiot.

A man who lied right to her face and pretended he didn't know her had no scruples. Of course, he would take sex when it was offered even if it was with a woman he considered to be a traitor.

Pain speared through her heart again, but instead of allowing it to control her, she took control of it, used it to fan the flames of her rage.

When his gaze softened and the grip on her shoulders loosened a little, she didn't allow her guard to drop.

Right now, Tate was as much the enemy as Raul and his men were. Anyone who wasn’t going to listen to her or hear the truth, was working against her. They were trying to prove she was guilty without even looking into what she had said and being fair and impartial.

“Look, I believe you weren't trying to sell the drug. I know you’re a good person. A kind and loving person. You wouldn’t willingly sell a drug that you and your friends created to save the lives of the people you care about to someone who would use it against them. I do truly believe that. Maybe I had some doubts at first because of the email, but I know you wouldn’t do something like that.”

There was a but coming.

There was always a but coming.

“But you got involved with Raul somehow. Did he threaten you? One of your friends?”

Her hand was moving before she realized it again, only this time Tate was prepared, snagging her wrist before her palm could make contact with his cheek.

How dare he continue to throw accusations at her.

Hadn't he heard a single word she’d said?

“Yeah, jerk, I got involved with him when he sent his men to break into my house and kidnap me. I got “involved”,”—she made air quotes with her fingers—“with him when I had to shoot one of his men to try to survive, not knowing there were more men already in the house. I got involved with him when I woke up in a small, cold, stone cell. When I was cuffed to a chair and beaten. When I was strung up by my hands and whipped. When I was …” Scarlett trailed off, realizing in her anger she’d almost blurted out about the drug. “When I was dragged out to the pool, and had a rock tied to my leg, and told I was going to be shoved into the water and fished out when I passed out. What about any of that makes it sound like I was any sort of willing, or even unwilling participant?”

By the time she finished her rant, Scarlett was breathing hard, her pulse throbbing loudly, all the aches and pains that had seemed to dim when she was in Tate’s home were now screaming at her so she couldn’t ignore them.

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