Page 77 of Lesson In Forgiveness

That wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. If that footage was still in existence, it had the power to destroy Tabitha, and that was, in plain terms, simply unacceptable. “Call him and tell him to delete it. Erase any trace of it.”

Jasper hesitated. “Pretty sure technology doesn’t work that way, Grit. Digital shit leaves a footprint, it’s not like the old VHS tapes that we could just burn and watch the evidence go up in smoke.”

More red smeared over the wall, filling in the dents marking the plaster. His frustration was growing, his desire to protect Tabitha from her past thwarted by something he couldn’t control. “You’ve read Rita’s notes, Jasper. How would you feel if it was Anarchy’s file? If she was abused and raped, and every second of it was captured on camera, what the fuck would you do?”

“I’ll talk to Ashford,” his friend acquiesced. “But Grit, you should remember who Tabitha is and how she was raised. She’s a smart girl, she knows what the Fairfaxes were like; if she doesn’t already know they recorded everything, I doubt it will come as a surprise.”

“That isn’t the point and you know it.” Christ, where was something real when he needed to beat the shit out of it? He craved flesh and blood, the meaty thud of fists impacting muscle and bone. “Deal with it, Jasper. Don’t make me hunt down your brother and persuade him to do the right thing.”

Jasper chuckled. “Wouldn’t take too much persuasion. Just threaten to break all his pretty and very expensive toys.” He sighed. “Leave it with me. I’ll convince Ash some things just aren’t worth keeping around. I think he’s so used to seeing stuff like that, it hasn’t occurred to him it might ruin someone’s life.”

Someone being his brother or sister, Grit thought bitterly, wondering how all the Fairfax siblings could be so fucking blasé about what their father had done, aided by their stepmother. If it was his family in this position, he’d be tearing down walls, using every power in his disposal to remove the filth poisoning them.

Apparently, it was down to him now to make sure Tabitha remained protected from those videos, to guard her back against whatever was coming for her. Her brothers were so focused on keeping the world safe from her, they weren’t concerned about stopping it from taking her down.

After muttering a terse thank you and ending the call, Grit took several long breaths and braced himself for the next round of reading—he wanted to get it over with, consume the data and learn from it, before he returned the file to Jasper, far away from Tabitha.

By learning, he’d know what to do next…

He hoped.

Chapter Nine

Tabitha

IV removed cleanly—check.

Room empty—check.

Underwear on—double check.

Body in top fighting condition—not a chance.

Tabitha’s stay in hell was now a week long, and she was done with the fussing and mollycoddling. Jasper insisted on keeping the IV line in, running fluids, but she knew it was only so he could sedate her if he felt it necessary. She’d tried to be a good little patient—more for Grit’s sake, seeing as he fought her corner over and over again—but a week in captivity was seven days too damn long.

The wounds on her hand and arms were healing well enough under the stitches. Her body was stiff, the bruises still plaguing her, and her face continued to ache like a bitch. There was some minor damage to her vocal chords, as predicted, which meant she was under strict no talking orders.

Do this, stay here, don’t talk, just rest…

The list was endless, and tedious.

She had things to do, one annoying Irishman to kill, and her own life to lead away from bossy, dominant men. All she had to do was sneak out of a security fortress, avoid bumping into her obsession and her brother, and hitch a ride back to Phoenix so she could be on her merry way.

Step one was getting her reluctant ass out of bed, which was easier said than done. Sitting up sent breathless pain shooting through her chest—wounds of the flesh healed faster than bone. Her ribs protested as she eased her legs around to hang off the side of the bed.

The sensible side of her brain warned her to wait until her strength returned and she could move freely, but this was the first time in a week Grit had left her side while she was awake. Jasper had pulled him into a meeting twenty minutes ago, which meant she had anywhere between ten minutes and three hours to execute her plan.

Knowing her brother and Atticus, she was betting on the big boys’ club staying in session for some time. Grit hadn’t been in Phoenix for a hefty period of time—he and his mercenary friends probably had a lot to catch up on.

Snickering at the thought of a bunch of tough, muscular commandos sitting around the conference room table, sipping tea with their pinkie fingers lifted, gossiping about their most recent missions and barely refraining from slapping their dicks out on the wood to compare sizes, Tabitha wiggled until her toes touched the floor and she slid onto the soles of her feet.

Easy does it, she thought when the room spun briefly. Fuck, she was in a worse state than she believed. The catheter was long gone, her visits to the bathroom allowed with an escort—Grit, of course, and he usually carried her.

Her first few steps were weak and shaky, requiring a supporting hand on the bed to keep her from falling face first to the floor. She tottered over to the chair Grit spent too much time in, reaching for the black hoodie with the Heisler Security logo embroidered into the breast.

When she pulled it on, the smell of him surrounded her, making her smile. The material fell almost to her knees, completely shapeless on her smaller frame; she imagined it resembled some kind of weird little black dress, but at least it covered her unmentionables.

By the time she got to the door, she was breathless, sweating, and exhausted.

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