Ruthless Regret (Ruthless Games Duology #2)

Chapter 29

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

ZAIN

The words slip out, cold and sharp, my eyes locking onto the guy coming toward us. It has to be the boyfriend. The one I forced her to dump.

“What are you talking about? Your wife ?” Emotions play across the guy’s face. Confusion, Disbelief. Anger. It’s all there, plain as day. “Ashley, what the hell is going on?”

I turn my attention back to Ashley. Her face is pale, eyes wide. She’s frozen in place, caught between us. The situation is messy, complicated, caused by me, but I can’t back down now.

“You didn’t tell him?”

“This isn’t the time or the place.” Her voice is tight.

The boyfriend— ex boyfriend— steps forward, attempting to put himself between Ashley and me. “I think you need to leave.”

I don’t move. “I can’t do that. Not until she hears me out.”

“She’s not going anywhere with you.” He moves closer. Too close. Right into my space, and instincts honed from years in a dangerous environment take over.

“You need to back off.” My voice is low, sharp, and full of warning.

“Or what?”

My lip curls, but before I can do or say anything, Peter is there. He places a hand on my shoulder.

“This isn’t helping anyone. Scott, it’s not up to you what Ashley decides to do. It’s her choice.” He frowns at me, and the message is clear. I told you to wait in the car .

But I couldn’t sit out there any longer without knowing what was happening inside. “Ashley, we need to talk. It’s important.”

She shakes her head. “Whatever you have to say, you can say it right here.”

I weigh my options. She’s stubborn as fuck, and pissed with me. She’s not going to go anywhere with me without a good reason. I’d rather not air all this in front of people I don’t know well enough to trust, but if it’s what it takes …

“Fine. You’re in danger. I think you might have seen something more, and you’ve buried it. I think that whoever is behind all this is going to come after you to keep it buried.”

Her eyes narrow. “You have some nerve coming here and talking about danger after what you put me through.”

“What’s he talking about?” Scott interrupts.

I ignore him, keeping my attention firmly on Ashley. “I know you’re angry, but?—”

“ Angry? Angry doesn’t even begin to cover it. You blackmailed me, manipulated me, used me as fucking bait! And now you have the audacity to show up here talking about working together?”

“I didn’t use you as bait.”

She laughs, the sound humorless and shrill. “You expect me to believe that?”

“I know I made mistakes,” I say through gritted teeth. “But this is bigger than?—”

“Than what, Zain? Your revenge? Your ego ?”

One of her friends steps forward. “Maybe we should all calm down and?—”

“No!”

At least I’m not the only one she’s talking over.

“I’m done being calm. I’m done letting everyone else tell me what I should do.” She turns back to me, eyes blazing. “Get out! Now!”

“Not until you hear me out.”

“There’s nothing you can say that I want to hear.” She storms down the hallway. I follow, ignoring the protests around me.

When I enter the kitchen, my gaze falls onto the table. Scattered across it are sheets of paper, all covered in highlighter markers.

“What’s this?” I reach for one of the sheets.

She lunges forward, trying to snatch it away, but she’s not fast enough. I scan the highlighted portions, holding out my other hand to ward her off.

"Witnesses describe a figure near the scene who does not match Ryder's description ..."

"Detective Holson reportedly had doubts about the swift conviction ..."

"Inconsistencies in forensic evidence were largely dismissed ..."

“You’ve already been investigating.” I look up.

She flushes, and looks away. “It’s none of your business.”

“It’s all my fucking business. This is what I’ve been trying to tell you. There’s more going on here than anyone realized.”

“Just because I’ve been looking into things, it doesn’t mean I trust you or want your help.”

Peter clears his throat. “Perhaps we should all take a moment to?—”

“Stay out of it,” Ashley and I say in unison, our eyes locked in a heated glare.

“Ash,” one of her friends says. “Maybe you should hear him out?”

“No,” Scott interjects. “This guy shows up, claims to be her husband, and then threatens her life. We should be calling the police.”

I ignore them all, and reach out to touch her cheek, drawing her face back around so I can see her eyes. “You know there’s more to this story.” I force myself to speak softly. “These articles prove it. But what I’ve found goes even deeper. There are things you don’t know.”

“And I’m just supposed to believe you, am I? Because you haven’t lied to me at all to get what you want.”

“I don’t expect you to trust me, Firecracker, but you can trust the evidence. Trust your own instincts.”

For a moment, I’m sure I see uncertainty in her eyes. But then her jaw sets.

“Get out. I don’t want your help, and I don’t want to see you again. Not now. Not ever.”

Okay, so apparently being logical and understanding isn’t working. Fuck it.

“Unless you can drag me out of here yourself, I’m not going.” I toss her a smirk.

Her eyes flash.

“You have no right.”

“Section 3, point 4. I release all autonomy over to Zain Ryder. For fourteen months from the date of signing, he has full control over ? — ”

She slaps me. I drop the sheet of paper, and catch her wrist before she hits me again.

“Feel better now?”

“I hate you.”

“You can hate me all you like, but you still need to understand?—”

“ Understand? You want me to understand. Fine. Let’s talk about understanding, Zain. Do you understand what it’s like to have your life torn apart? To be forced into a marriage because someone hates you that much?”

“Ashley.” It’s the other friend trying to stem her tirade this time. Ashley holds up a hand.

“No, I want to hear what he has to say about understanding.” Her eyes are spitting fire at me. “Do you understand what it’s like to be used as bait? To feel like your life is worthless to someone beyond that? To go from having sex with someone and thinking you’ve reached an understanding, only for it to become clear it was just a means to an end?”

I curl my fingers, nails biting into my palm. “Do you understand what it’s like to be accused of murder? Of going from planning what you want to do with your life to losing everything? To go from being able to get up and do whatever you want every day to living in an eight by ten cell? You think you’ve been living in fear, Ashley? You have no fucking idea what it’s like living with the knowledge that every minute might be your last because you pissed off the wrong person. So yeah, I do understand.” She has the decency to blush and look away. “I know I’ve done things that hurt you, that made you feel less than human?—”

“Things?” Her laugh is bitter. “You’ve done things ? Is that what you’re calling it?”

“I’m trying to make it right. It’s more than what you’re fucking doing!” My shout echoes around the room.

“Make it right?” Scott interrupts again, and the thought of silencing him for good crosses my mind. “How the hell do you make something like that right?”

I make the conscious decision to ignore him, and force myself to calm down, to let go of the anger and focus on what’s important. “Fighting about the things we’ve both done is getting us nowhere. I need your help, Ashley.”

“My help.” Her voice is flat. “Why would I help you?”

“Not for me. For Jason. For Louisa. For the truth we deserve to know.”

“Don’t you dare try and guilt me into doing what you want. I don’t care what evidence you think you have. I don’t care about your apologies, not that you’ve actually apologized for anything you’ve done. I want you out of my house.”

“Ashley,” Peter speaks up, voice calm. “I know you have every reason to distrust Zain at the moment, but perhaps you should hear what he’s found.”

“No.”

I take a step closer to her. “You’re already investigating.” I gesture to the papers on the table. “You know there’s more to this story. Don’t let your anger with me cloud your thinking.”

“I don’t need you here to carry on researching.”

“Maybe not, but you need the information I have, and I need what you have. Whether you like it or not, we might both be targets. We’re safer working together than apart.”

Her internal struggle plays out over her face. The desire for answers warring with her hatred of me.

When she finally speaks, her voice is tight with barely contained emotion. “You have five minutes. Five minutes to convince me that whatever you’ve found is worth the risk of spending more time with you. After that, if I’m not satisfied, you leave. For good. Deal?”

I nod. Five minutes is all I’ll need. “Deal.”