Page 60 of Wicked Truths
Tears spill down her cheeks, and despite everything inside me screaming to keep my distance, my heart breaks for this girl who seems so lost. But I need answers.
“Amara.” My voice drops to a dangerous whisper. “What do you know?”
“I...I just overheard someone mention it,” shelies again.
“No you didn’t.” My frustration flares like wildfire. “Tell me the truth. You were asking questions in the pool and now you're fishing. Now fucking tell me what is going on.”
She blinks back more tears. “I–I’m being blackmailed. I have to get information about you.”
“By whom?”
Her head shakes violently as if willing herself to forget. “I don’t know. It’s on my…”
“On your what?”
“On a website I use for—” She hiccups back a sob and wipes her cheeks frantically with trembling fingers. “The person found me on it and I…”
“Someone is blackmailing you to get information on me.”
She nods slowly, another single tear tracks down her cheek.
“I’m sorry.”
“Show me.”
“What?” Her eyes widen in disbelief.
“The app.” My voice hardens as urgency fuels me now. “If you’re telling me the truth I can find out who this person is.”
“I can’t,” she whispers, fear lacing her words.
“You can and you will.”
“But you’ll see me in lingerie,” she protests weakly.
I arch an eyebrow.
“I’ve seen you in a bikini, Amara.” My grip tightens slightly as desire mixes with protectiveness in a dangerous cocktail. “Now show me.”
I follow Amara to her room, stepping inside the pastel colored space.
She keeps it tidy. That I like. I can’t stand messiness, whether it be in my view or in my life.
She strides to her laptop, her gaze meeting mine as she powers it up.
“How long has it been going on?”
She shrugs her shoulders. “Before my birthday—” She thinks a little more. “About a month before.”
“And you never thought to come to me?” That hurts after everything I do for her.
She loads a picture on the screen and shows me.
“If you didn’t kill me.” She points at a man on the website. “He was never going to allow his dirty secret to get out.”
I look at a picture of Amara sitting with Mayor Anderson and grind my teeth at seeing his hand squeezing the top of her thigh.
“I’m so sorry.”
