“Well, I need something to drink.” He shoved at Tyler again, who looked like he was itching for a fight, too.

He’d done some really awful things to her, like throwing her out when she was pregnant, but he’d been hurting and lashed out. Del felt a bit like she’d started it. He’d been fearful of never walking again, relying on his wife to stay with him through better or worse, in sickness and in health. Instead, she’d succumbed to his best friend. Yes, Eric had asked, but he hadn’t asked her to enjoy it so much. He hadn’t asked her to fall half in love with Tyler. He especially hadn’t asked her to get pregnant. At a time when she should have been focused on him and helping him recover, getting him past his anger at fate, she’d shoved him into a deeper pit of despair.

Clearly, he hadn’t worked through all those issues. And now, she’d brought violence to his door, then followed it up with a reminder of the breaking point in their marriage. Talk about a post-vacation letdown. He had a right to be angry—and her guilt kept piling up.

“It’s three thirty,” she pointed out, hoping to keep him on task.

“Which makes it past five o’clock somewhere.” He reached over her to grab a glass. “Wine?”

“No, thank you,” she murmured.

She noticed he didn’t ask Tyler if he wanted anything. He just slammed the cabinet door, then reached in the pantry for the liquor. Tyler leaned against the refrigerator, keeping his back covered, and watched with narrowed eyes. Suspicious eyes. They exchanged a glance. Eric was up to something; they could both feel it. Best to get what they came for, then clear this place.

“I actually just came by because I left something here a while ago for safekeeping.”

He frowned as he poured a shot of whiskey and downed it. “Before the divorce?”

This was where her explanation would get tricky. “No, after.”

Eric hesitated, thinking, pouring another shot. “You let yourself in with the spare key on the patio without my permission?” He didn’t even wait for her to confirm. “Why?”

“I’ve been working on a story, an exposé. I can’t say a lot now, but it’s really big. The person I’m writing about caught wind of my investigation. I had some of my research on a flash drive and hid it here a few weeks back, just in case. I didn’t think anyone would suspect that I’d keep anything valuable at my ex’s house. I never thought they’d hit your place. I’m really sorry.”

“You hid evidence in my house without telling me and dragged me into this shit unwittingly, but you won’t cough up who or what you’re investigating? Is that right?”

Del winced at his bitterness. “It’s safer if you don’t know.”

Eric’s dark gaze slid over to Tyler.

“But you dragged him into it? Because you trust him more or care about his safety less?”

As he tossed back the second shot and swallowed it, that question dropped between them like a bomb loaded with a ton of TNT. Either reply had the potential to turn this downright ugly. She bit her lip.

“No answer for that, huh?” Eric drawled, pouring a third shot. “How about I help you? You ran to him first because you trust him to help you, no matter how pissed he might be at you about the br—” He looked sideways at Tyler. “About Seth. How long was it before you let him back in your pussy?”

She flinched. Del thought of lying, but Eric would see through that fast, and being dishonest would only make the situation worse.

“He’s already fucked you?” Her ex-husband laughed bitterly, then sucked back his third shot of whiskey. “God, I’m a stupid ass. Of course he did. My old pal fucks anything that moves, and you itched to take him for another ride, didn’t you? You tracked him down so he could shove that big, prized cock of his right into your cunt—”

“Shut your goddamned mouth,” Tyler growled. “Now. Before I shut it myself. You begged her to have sex with me that night, just like you begged me to fuck her. We had never crossed the friend line before you suggested it. Don’t shove your baggage on us. Shit happened. If you couldn’t handle it, you shouldn’t have asked.”

Eric threw his hands in the air. “You know, you’re right. I should have realized you two were hot for each other. I should have thrown you out of my life the minute I suspected you had a hard-on for my wife.”

Before she could sputter a word, Eric charged Tyler, grabbing something from his back pocket. Handcuffs. Del tried to sputter a warning at Tyler. But with the refrigerator at his back and a wall of cabinets beside him, he had nowhere to go.

Eric hooked one cuff around Tyler’s wrist with a decisive click. Tyler punched him in the jaw with his free hand. Despite Eric’s head snapping back, he maintained focus and yanked on the cuffs. Tyler stumbled, close enough for Eric to snap the other cuff around the handle of the refrigerator, tethering Tyler in a blink.

Del gasped.

Like an animal of prey, Eric whirled on her and began stalking. A terrible smile spread across his face. At six feet two inches and with an active life, he was a wall of solid muscle. No way she could outrun or outfight him. Apprehension tightened Del’s stomach. What was he up to?

“Are you trying to intimidate me? Because this is stupid. Just let me get what I came for, then we’ll leave.”

Eric shook his head, his shaggy, dark hair moving with him. “I haven’t gotten what I let you come for. That night he fucked you—” He nodded over at Tyler. “I saw a whole other side of you, babe. I saw a very naughty vixen. You’d have given him anything that night. You’d have let him come down your throat or shove his dick up your ass—all the things I never got out of you. I saw you come for him over and over. And I had to watch you not only take pleasure but demand it. I was fucking helpless to do anything.”

“You touched me,” she reminded him.

“And you screamed his name when you came.” Bitterness streaked across his dark features, the kind she hadn’t seen since early in their split. “You put on quite a show. Do you know what that did to me?”

Del could imagine. His self-confidence had never been the best. The resulting quirks were sometimes hard to live with. But everything had been much worse after the shooting.

Eric raised a dark brow at her. “Now, we’re going to put on a show for him.”

His words sent panic thrumming through her body. She didn’t like the sound of that at all. “Don’t touch me.”

“Stay the fuck away from her,” Tyler demanded, yanking so hard on his cuffs that the refrigerator rolled a few inches across the floor.

But it wasn’t enough. With Eric squarely blocking her path to Tyler, she couldn’t get to him. Even if she could run fast enough to escape her ex-husband, she wouldn’t leave Tyler here to take his wrath. She had to stand her ground and get them both out of this.

“I’m not going to hurt you, babe. I just want to make you come while he watches.”

Eric had never been particularly good at bringing her to climax when they’d been married. And this now was nothing more than a power trip, one he wanted to take to salvage his pride. He didn’t really even want her; he just wanted to rub Tyler’s nose in her orgasm. After everything that had happened during their breakup and her pregnancy, the thought of Eric touching her again made her stomach pitch and roll.

But she wasn’t terribly surprised. In fact, she should have seen this coming. Eric had always looked for validation in everything. His lack of self-confidence sometimes drove him to take stupid risks. That’s how he’d been shot in the first place, trying to play the hero without adequate backup.

“You better not fucking touch her!” Tyler shouted, jerking against his restraints.

“What?” Eric asked, all innocence. “You don’t think it’ll be great fun to watch the woman you love get off at the hands of another man?”

“It’s not going to happen, Eric.” She crossed her arms over her chest, shooting him her sternest look.

He stalked closer, and Del had nowhere to go. She held up her hands to ward him off, but that was like hoping a butterfly net would stop a barreling semi.

“Sure, it is. I want to get my tongue on your pussy, Del. How does that sound, Tyler?” Eric tossed a triumphant glare over his shoulder at his former friend.

Hell no. She had to put a stop to this now.

Del pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. “I don’t want this, and I don’t want you, Eric. Are you planning to rape me? Really?”

He cocked a brow. “Since you basically cheated on me when I was crippled and wasn’t sure I’d ever walk again, don’t you think you owe me the chance now to prove that I can flip your switch as much as he does?”

After throwing her out because she was pregnant? After divorcing her in nothing flat, despite the fact that she’d taken care of him for months? His insecurity and feelings of inadequacy had been understandable, given how fast and hard she’d fallen for Tyler that night, but he’d pushed them together, and she couldn’t change it now. Her bigger question was, why the hell hadn’t he gotten over it in the last two years?

“It’s not like you want me back,” she pointed out. “Our marriage fell apart in six short weeks. It’s over. You’re not going to make me come, and I’m not going to let you try.” She focused on her phone for a second, then sent him a warning. “Come a step closer, and I’ll call nine-one-one.”

That only made Eric laugh. “Which one of my friends will respond to the call? You think they’re going to help the adultering whore who broke my heart and the traitor who knocked her up?”

His words sank in and made her feel all kinds of sick, but Eric was right. No one who responded to her distress call would believe her or lift a finger to help her.

“Don’t even think about it,” Tyler growled.

He yanked on his cuff again, but there was no way he was getting free. The handle of the refrigerator was built seamlessly into the unit and made of solid steel, as were the cuffs. He cursed, then turned to riffle through the nearby drawers for the cooking knives. They were empty, and he struggled to tear them out of the cabinets, to no avail. She realized now that the counter had been cleared of the blender and other heavy knickknacks Tyler might have thrown or used as weapons. When he wrenched open the cabinet above, all the glasses had been removed. Eric sent his former friend a terrible smile.

Del’s stomach plummeted, cramped. Eric had clearly put some thought into this plan. God, now she was actually terrified. How far would fury and insecurity push her ex-husband?

An awful feeling of vulnerability set in. Panic. After the shooting, Del had quickly learned that, when angry, Eric was capable of hideous insults that he may or may not regret later. Now that he was healthy and mobile again, she suspected he was capable of much worse than hurtful words. And that he was bent on some sort of revenge.

“If I ever meant anything to you, please don’t touch me.” Del heard the pleading note in her voice, and as much as she hated to show weakness, she hoped it penetrated the thick shell of his rage.

It didn’t. He just came closer and gripped her wrist, tugging on it to drag her to him. “It’s because you meant something to me that I’m not giving up.”

Bullshit. This was about Eric’s pride, about hurting Tyler. About losing out. Whatever love he’d felt for her had died long ago.

“You look so pretty, Del. I’ve missed you.” He wrapped his free arm around her waist and ground his erection against her stomach, tried to nuzzle her neck.

Apprehension soaring, she pushed at him. “Eric, don’t.”

“Get your hands off of her, you motherfucker!” Tyler shouted, yanking again on the handcuffs. The refrigerator rattled across the hardwood floor. Blood trickled down his wrist.

Del’s heart lurched in her throat. Tyler was going to hurt himself getting free. And given the fury thundering across his face, he would kill Eric—and enjoy every minute of it. If Carlson became DA and got wind of the fact that Tyler was trying to help her, the corrupt bastard would make sure that Tyler went down hard. Being convicted of murdering a cop never came with an easy sentence.

“Calm down, Tyler.” Her voice shook. As frightened as she was, panicking wasn’t going to help either of them. She had to keep him from doing his worst.

“Fuck that!” He strained against the cuffs. But the two feet separating him from Eric might as well have been a chasm.

“Relax, babe,” Eric murmured in her ear, spreading kisses across her jaw, heading toward her mouth. “I just want to kiss you, make you feel good.”

No, he just wanted to flaunt her to Tyler.

She shivered. Familiarity mixed with her fear. A huge part of her was furious, even felt betrayed all over again . . . but even now, guilt clung like frost to a window. On the surface, her marriage had ended because Eric hadn’t been able to handle the sexual favor he’d asked of his wife and his best friend. But deep down, they’d divorced because she had been more in love with Tyler than her own husband after that night—and Eric had known it. It would be easy to lay all the blame at his feet—but not entirely fair. She’d played her role.

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