And he got it, he did.
“It’s okay, Betsy. I’m not mad at you. I understand why you did it.”
What he didn’t understand is why Forrest Robins was trying to set him up.
“Did Forrest tell you why he would want to frame me for his brother’s murder?” he asked her.
She shook her head. “No. He just told me to go to Fringe and get close to you. I wasn’t sure how I was ever going to get you interested in me. I have a problem with loud noises. I can’t stand people touching me, because most of the people who have touched me in my life have hurt me. I had no clue what I was doing. But then, I got to know you. And you didn’t hurt me, you took care of me, and I actually liked it when you touched me. Forrest left soon after that first night I went to the club. It wasn’t until the night you asked for my phone number that he returned. He wanted results.” She spat out the word.
“I had no clue what he had planned. I was so torn. I had to do what he wanted because of my boys. But I couldn’t stand the thought of him using you. So when we got home, I asked him what he expected me to do. He pressed me against the wall, his hand around my throat and I knew it wouldn’t take much for him to kill me. He’s been toying with me all this time. I think it’s been fun for him, torturing me.”
She ran her hands up and down her arms. “He shoved me out of the room. But he didn’t close the door properly. I could hear him talking to his enforcer about framing you for his brother’s death. Something about the old man wanting to know who killed the senator and getting him off his back.”
“His father?” Duke asked.
“Yes. There’s some reason Forrest wants his father to think that you killed the senator.”
“Maybe the old man just wants someone to blame,” Duke guessed.
“But why me?” Ink asked.
“Because of the photos the cops have and your weak alibi?” Duke suggested.
“Photos?” she asked.
“We were keeping an eye on the senator,” he told her. “There are photos of some of us outside his place. But none of the photos were of me and the cops have cleared us all.”
She frowned. “But if your alibi is weak, he could have been trying to plant evidence and frame you. That makes sense with what I overheard.”
“Fuck,” Ink swore.
“What if there were photos and the cops didn’t get hold of them but somehow Forrest did? Or he could doctor them,” Duke guessed.
“I’ve found the kids,” Brody suddenly said. “Got the school they’re enrolled in. What do you want me to do?”
Betsy stiffened in his arms. “You found them? Really?”
Brody sent her a smile. “I did.”
“Thank God,” she muttered on a small sob.
Ink thought through his options. “I’ll contact Matthieu. Send him to get them.”
Matthieu Clarkson was someone Ink had known for years. He’d been in the French Special Forces. He was deadly, well-trained. And he owed Ink a favor.
She took a deep breath. “But what about whoever is watching them?”
“Don’t worry, Matthieu will get them out safely.”
She clenched her hands in his shirt. “You promise? Because if someone tries to get to them and he finds out, if he stops them, he’ll hurt Royal and Baron.”
“Betsy, you need to trust me. Trust me to keep them safe and you.”
“I’m not important. They are. You are.”
“That shit is going to stop right now,” he growled at her. “You are important as well. You have worth.”
She just shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks.