The guys took their sweet time to arrive. Shayla was a bundle of nerves that even Luke’s massaging touch couldn’t iron out. She kept peppering him with her insecurities, terrified that his plan would backfire and that she’d be worse off than before. Luke assured her that wouldn’t be the case, and did his best to ease her troubled mind.
It didn’t help much.
Naomi wasn’t doing much better, and it broke Shayla’s heart. The woman was enthusiastic about helping Shayla out, and getting her revenge on Anthony, but it was all too clear to everyone just how sick the thought of coming clean to the whole world made Naomi. She had as much to lose as the rest of them, Shayla realized. Before, Naomi could have quietly gone through her time in rehab and reentered the world with her reputation untarnished, save for among the few who knew her at KTMA. She could have moved, started again. The mistakes she had made weren’t tied inextricably to her name the way they would be with Shayla if that video aired.
At least, they hadn’t been.
But Naomi was taking a huge chance, one that Shayla would not be quick to dismiss. She was potentially sacrificing her future happiness in order for Shayla to have a shot at her own, and for Anthony to get his just desserts. Shayla had never seen someone be so strong. She only hoped she would have the opportunity to pay Naomi back.
It was like the three of them were in the trenches together. Though the engines of the Reapers revved menacingly in the distance, they buckled down with their heads together and worked out a plan that might very well save them. Or be the death of them.
Shayla wasn’t ignorant to the fact that there was a real possibility of their plan backfiring. They might be able to do some damage to their opponents, but would it be enough in the end? It was no longer a question of who got to hurt who more. One side of the war had to be demolished. They could take no prisoners. They could sign no peace treaties. And there were no points left to tally.
Shayla greeted Pierce and Bernard at the front of the building with a nervous smile, Luke standing behind her reassuringly. He smiled and shook the hands of the men who’d made him famous, and they beamed at the man who’d given them their big breaks. While Pierce and Bernard hadn’t been given the same accolades that Shayla had for their work on the Trojan MC featurette, they’d certainly had their name tossed around in a few influential circles.
The air in Naomi’s room was tense as they set up. She had changed into a light floral sundress and a blue cardigan that brought out the color of her eyes. She’d also insisted on spending half an hour in the bathroom doing her makeup and hair. She said she’d rather die before going on television looking like she did.
Shayla smiled at that. It was heartbreaking to her that a woman as strong and goal oriented, with such a fierce drive, could be taken in by Anthony Blake. She understood it, though. She hadn't, at first. She’d resented Naomi, really, though she could barely admit it to herself.
If Naomi had never fallen under Anthony’s spell, then Shayla would have never wound up beside him at that desk. But there were problems with this resentment that went far beyond just being wildly unfair. She would have never met Luke, if it weren’t for Naomi. She might have seen him in passing, sure, if the story had still gone the same way. But she wouldn’t have gone for dinner with him, and she most certainly wouldn’t have agreed to spend any more time with him than necessary. Shayla wondered how many times in life she’d been the blockade to her own happiness. Her attempt with Luke couldn’t have been the first time.
Finally looking like her old self, Naomi resumed her seat by the window and beckoned for Shayla to join her. She’d gone lighter on the makeup, Shayla saw, probably anticipating that she’d need to look at least a little bit pathetic for anyone to take her seriously. That was fair enough.
Pierce got into position with the camera and talked them through the best angles for them to go through with their faces and bodies to appeal best to the camera. They listened with rapt attention, and for the first time Shayla felt like she was an equal to Naomi. She was meant for this kind of work. She felt a kinship with the woman across from her, both from Anthony and the camera. In both areas, Naomi was more experienced. Shayla hoped that she’d only ever get more experience with one.
When the camera began to roll, Shayla smiled at Naomi and they began to chat. They talked like old friends, not like interviewer and interviewee. The conversation was informal and comfortable, both of them clearly at ease even though the subject matter made them both wildly uncomfortable.
Naomi detailed everything that had happened during her relationship with Anthony. The way his manipulation came disguised as love. The way he acted like his mental and physical blows were meant as kisses. She recanted it with the same detail and clarity as she had the first time with Shayla, but both of them had had more time to steel themselves against the emotional turmoil of the subject matter.
When Naomi began to talk about her addiction was the first time her hands began to shake. Shayla wasn’t sure whether it was from withdrawals or from pain, but when her own hands began to tremble at the thought of how she might have shared the same fate, she knew. What a horrible thing, to have lost control of yourself to another person, but to the wrong person. People lost control of themselves all the time. That’s what love was, wasn’t it? But when you loved someone, you had better hope to god that they were worthy of it. Because only the people you love had the potential to harm you like Naomi had been hurt.
That was one area, at least, Anthony could never hurt Shayla. It was some bitter comfort, but it came at the cost of sadness for her friend. Because Naomi had loved Anthony; that much was clear. And the anger she felt now at him was mixed in with so much anger at herself, and Shayla could almost feel the sting of betrayal as if it poked at her the same. She couldn’t imagine Luke doing anything like that to her. She couldn’t imagine having to face the reality that the person she loved would bring her such harm on purpose, never mind at all.
Realizing in the middle of an interview—with a woman who was doing her best not to cry on film—that she loved Luke Cinder was inconvenient.
Shayla tried not to let Naomi’s words drone out as she turned the thought over in her mind, testing it like a smooth stone she’d picked up from the water’s edge. It fit there, in her palm, as if it had been made to rest in the depression between her thumb and the side of her hand.
Naomi was talking about the later stages of her addiction now. Anthony had even controlled when she went into rehab. He hadn’t put her there himself, of course. That would have been too kind. But when he was finished playing with her, presumably bored that she was so easy to control (Naomi’s words, not Shayla’s) he’d dropped her like a stone.
Naomi’s family had been there to pick up the pieces, even though she’d pushed them away before. Without them, she said, she didn’t know what she would have done. What she would have become.
Shayla tried to focus. Her eyes swam with tears of her own. So many of them were for Naomi, but she had enough of her own reasons to cry. The two cried together, as dignified as they could. They passed tissues between themselves and kept talking. It hurt like hell, but it was going to be damn good TV. They both knew it.
They were reaching the end of the story, but it was by no means over. Shayla could practically see the way the teasers would use short clips of this moment to pull viewers in, to keep them engaged even if they felt their attention wandering from the emotional spectacle.
But Anthony had help securing his victim, and he had provided help in return, the voiceover would say.
Teary-eyed, Naomi straightened. “He got my drugs from the Reapers MC. In return, he helped them gain a foothold with higher paying clients.” She dabbed at her eyes for dramatic effect. “They’d been looking for a way to move up from street drugs to more profitable endeavors. Prescription drugs were the way to go.”
“But Naomi,” Shayla said, her brow furrowed. “Anthony told everyone you were in rehab for cocaine.”
Naomi smiled wryly. “All the better to stop people asking questions. Cocaine is a lot easier to get than prescription drugs for someone who hasn’t been to the doctor in over a year.”
Finally, it was time for the clincher. This was the powerful moment that would have hearts breaking and hearts burning across the country. “Aren’t you afraid of retaliation from telling me your story today?” Shayla asked. “From Anthony, or from the Reapers?”
Naomi straightened, exuding pure, elegant poise. “I’m terrified,” she said. Shayla was too. “But I know that by telling my story I might be able to help save someone else.” She paused, wringing her hands together but looking at Shayla with a determined expression. “Even if something bad happens to me because of this, if I save just one person, that will be worth it.”
Shayla felt that sentence resonate in her bones. Because she had, and Naomi knew that. Shayla had never respected anyone more in her life, and she vowed to do everything she could to keep Naomi safe.
***
It was time. After her emotional encounter with Naomi, Shayla no longer felt any trepidation for her date with Anthony. She had nothing left to feel. She’d cried all her tears. Worried all her worries. Everything was in the hands of fate now. She’d told Pierce and Bernard to get the video back to editing and show it to Amy as soon as they could. They’d listened to her like soldiers receiving life or death orders, even though their commanding officer had streaks of mascara down her face and kept wiping at her leaking nose.
Luke had taken her home and made love to her after that. He’d never been so gentle, so sweet. It seemed like the actual lovemaking was merely a side note to the intimacy of their embrace. They kissed lazily and stroked each other’s bare skin for what felt like hours. And when they’d surfaced, the old Shayla had been stripped away and stowed somewhere safe under the covers, where Anthony Blake and his inevitable dick-titude couldn’t get to it.
Only Luke would get that side of her now. Her sweetness and ability to be pushed around had been chafing at her ever since she’d first come into contact with Anthony Blake. It was about time she did something about it, anyway.
If Luke had his way, Shayla wouldn't have to go within ten feet of that slimy shit for brains. She’d had to be firm with him, too, making sure he knew that she would be okay. She was war hardened. Battle hungry. Ready for her final confrontation with the thorn in her side. Anthony would do everything in his power to make sure the wound he inflicted on her would fester, but it would never be enough—not now that she had a weapon of her own to take him down with.
There wouldn’t be any others. Naomi had paid the ultimate price to ensure that, and Shayla had tasted enough of Anthony’s medicine to help Naomi reach her goal. This was Naomi’s fight more than it was Shayla, and she was acutely aware of that as she dressed and whispered quiet affirmations to herself.
It was going to be okay. Even if everything went belly up, they would be taking Anthony and the shady rivals of Luke’s down with them. They would be avenging Rose and Holly, who had no way on their own to cut the Reapers and make it hurt. They would be getting justice for Luke, hopefully helping swing back opinion in his favor.
Shayla had been boiling mad when he told her about what Raven did. There was soon to be a battle on the air waves. Since they’d gotten in their own footage so quick, though, Shayla was unsure if Raven’s interview would ever air. After all, the station would have to distance itself from Anthony. How could it not? Even if everything Raven said about Luke was true, the fact was that it would mean more to the public what Anthony had done. There would be an outcry if it looked like they were ignoring the complaints against him.
Even if another station interviewed Raven down the line about Luke, would it matter? She was a known Reapers MC member. She was firmly intertwined in everything that Anthony had done. They’d been seen together. Her credibility would be shot to hell.
The only thing that Anthony or Raven would have left was the video of Luke and Shayla. They could still release it, undoubtedly. But everyone would know where it had come from. It would work more against Anthony and Raven than for them. It might still damage Shayla, but that was a chance she was willing to take.
And besides, there was one more surprise up Shayla’s sleeve that would hopefully tie the whole package up with a little bow.
Shayla showered and dressed, doing up her hair and makeup as if she were really going on a date. Luke hated it. He would have had her show up in sweats and a baggy hoodie if it were up to him. But again, Shayla reminded him that this was her battle now. He would get his own soon enough, but she would face this the way she felt was best.
Reluctantly, Luke accepted her admonitions. Even though he watched her with hard eyes as she blow dried and curled her hair.
She arrived at Anthony’s front door at exactly ten fifteen p.m. It was the time she’d chosen, stating that she’d rather skip the dinner part of their evening and get down to business. He’d agreed, though he’d stated that he would still be getting his end out of it. She wouldn’t get to tap out early just because it was late. His text told her that she’d be in for a long night.
He had no idea that he was the one who’d be in for the long night.
Anthony’s house was larger than Shayla’s, but a similar color. She mentally noted that she’d have to get hers painted soon. It looked fine enough from the outside, but she wouldn’t have put it past him to have a dungeon just through the front door.
He didn’t, as it turned out. He opened the door and sneered at her, looking her up and down in the warm light thrown off by the lightbulb above the porch steps. “I’m glad you could make it.” He looked around her, nervously. Satisfied that she was alone, he opened the door fully and gestured for her to enter. She had to brush past him to do so, and reminded herself that it would be over soon enough. Only a little bit longer in this hell, so close to Anthony that she could smell the reek of cologne on him, and she’d be free.
He seemed to take an exorbitant amount of pleasure from watching her try to sneak by him without brushing him whatsoever. It didn’t work, of course. He was determined not to let it. Shayla resented that fact, and it only proved to her—if she hadn’t known—how twisted he was. He reveled in her discomfort.
“I was a little bit surprised that you didn’t want to let me woo you first,” Anthony stated, his voice far too close behind her. “I can be quite charming.”
His words sent goosebumps down Shayla’s back, and not in a good way. She scowled, even though he couldn’t see it. Perhaps especially since he couldn’t see it. She didn’t like knowing how much pleasure he was getting out of this.
“Well I figured we know each other well enough. No need for a wooing.”
He laughed.
Shayla stopped in his living room, a large and comely space that was sparsely but tastefully decorated. It had paintings on the wall that she could tell were the real thing. No prints in this palace. She wondered how much money the Reapers had put into his pocket. By the looks of his home, certainly more than a few pennies.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He came around in front of her, gazing down at her with dark and beady eyes. “I love bringing women here. After seeing my place, they’re only too happy to let me see theirs. If you catch my drift.”
She couldn’t have caught his drift any better if she’d been a major league baseball player. She tried to suppress a grimace, but Anthony caught it.
“I love seeing you so disgusted,” he said. “It’s going to make it all the more worth it when you’re writhing below me in ecstasy later.”
That made Shayla laugh. “You can’t actually think I’m going to be enjoying any of tonight’s proceedings?” she questioned.
He reached out and cupped her chin in his hand. His skin was cold, like a reptile’s. “I’ve seen it before, Shayla.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “The mind makes promises of hatred that the body just can’t cash.” He released her and let his gaze drop down lower. “I can see already that you came looking your best for me. It was probably subconscious, but don't worry if it wasn’t.” He winked. “I wouldn’t blame you.”
According to what she’d heard from Naomi, he would actually. Since he had a hard time getting aroused unless he was in complete, dictatorial control, that would have been Shayla’s next move had she not had a plan—get in control herself. The thought made her want to gag, but it was an option. Sure, it wouldn’t be fun pretending to want to screw Anthony’s brains out, but if Naomi hadn’t been mistaken then they’d never actually make it to the screwing part.
He was a psychopath. A smart one, too. But he’d messed with the wrong people.
“Can you get me a drink?” Shayla said, making sure he could hear the shake in her voice. “I’m feeling a little nervous.”
His eyes lit up like it was Christmas. “Of course, my dear.” He smirked. “I’ll only be a moment. Go ahead and sit down.”
She’d planned on it anyway, but thanked him as if it hadn’t occurred to her. He couldn’t have been as smart as she originally gave him credit for if he thought she was going to actually drink anything he prepared for her.
But Anthony was thinking with his dick now. And it would be his downfall.
Shayla checked the time on her phone. She was cutting it close, but thankfully she hadn’t missed her moment. She sent off a quick text and settled in front of the TV, pressing the power button on the remote so that it came to life. She searched through the channels until she found what she wanted.
The creaking of hinges from the front door made Shayla smile.