56. Lincoln
56
LINCOLN
I raced into the house, skidding to a stop as I looked around. Cope’s place was too damned big. And with the staccato pattern of darkness and moonlight, there were too many places for someone who wanted to do harm to hide. I didn’t have the first idea where to start looking. But then I realized it didn’t matter. I just had to get to Arden.
She was all that mattered.
I started toward the steps, picking up to a jog. But then I heard it. Voices.
Stilling at the bottom of the steps, I strained to listen.
“I’m not going to kill my son, no matter how much of a disappointment he is. But I will kill you.”
Each word was like a blow from a heavyweight champ wearing brass knuckles. Because I knew the owner of that voice, the wielder of that cruelty and vitriol.
My father.
Everything swirled in a mixture of confusion and fury. My father was here. Threatening Arden. None of it made sense. I knew he hated me. But enough to kill the woman I loved?
A soft growl sounded next to me, and I glanced down to see Brutus. My fingers latched onto his collar instantly, holding him back. Not until it was time.
I kept my grip on Brutus but began creeping up the stairs, straining to hear every word.
The sound of Arden’s voice was a sweet relief, but the words she spoke nearly brought me to my knees. “You killed my parents.”
My father scoffed. “ I have never killed anyone. Did I touch a weapon all those years ago? No. Have I used this gun in my hand? It’s only for protection. I’m a man with jealous enemies, after all.”
“You pulled the strings. That makes you just as guilty,” Arden snapped.
“Does it, though?” he cooed. “I’m just a man who likes to make sure the job is done right . Likes to see the blood of his enemies pour from their veins. The life drain from their eyes.”
“And what did my parents ever do to you? My father didn’t want to keep going with your sick game? So what?” Arden’s voice trembled with fury or fear, maybe a mix of both. I wasn’t sure.
“Such a promising colleague, with an impressive legal brain and a gift for finding all sorts of loopholes in the law. You can imagine my disappointment when he suddenly decided to end our association. I’m afraid he ultimately proved to be nothing more than a weak waste of space. He wanted to be a part of my world and run in the circles of the true elite, but he wasn’t willing to pay the price. Wanted the prize but never the payment.”
I reached the top of the stairs, pressing myself against the wall to keep Brutus and me hidden. Hugging the corner, I could just see around the wall, and the image cast in the moonlight had fury burning through my veins.
Part of my brain recognized my father, his back to me, a gun gripped in his hand. But at the same time, he was completely unrecognizable, a monster of nightmares. And those nightmares were Arden’s .
“He paid the price,” Arden rasped. “He would’ve paid anything. He just didn’t want to keep throwing cases.”
I couldn’t see her, not yet. I just needed to take another step or two without getting my father’s attention.
He made a tsking sound as he cocked his head to one side. “Now, Sheridan. My clients trust me to fix things for them to secure a certain outcome. The trade of a stock with insider knowledge. A child gaining admission to the appropriate university when their grades aren’t quite up to snuff. The tipping of a case one way or the other for completely justifiable reasons. How are they going to trust that a judge who suddenly grows a conscience will keep his mouth shut?”
I climbed one step then another, trying to keep a hold of Brutus’s collar. But the moment I reached the second to last stair, I only had eyes for Arden. Her already-blood-spattered dress had a couple of tears in it now, and someone had her in a tight grip, a knife pressed to her neck.
My body jerked slightly as I recognized who had Arden. Farah. I flipped through my memories, trying to remember everything I could about the woman. An artist from New York who’d come to Sparrow Falls seeking new inspiration and a change of pace. Not exactly someone I could see teaming up with my dad.
But the New York tie… That was something. And maybe Farah wasn’t an artist at all. I’d never seen her create pieces that required technical skill. Had never heard her discuss her friends’ creations with any deep knowledge. Maybe it had all been a lie. A facade.
“He would’ve stayed silent,” Arden whispered. “To keep my mom and me safe. He would’ve kept your dirty secrets.”
My father laughed at that as if she’d told him some hilarious joke. “But your mother already knew, didn’t she? Why else would she have offered me money the way she did that night? She knew your father had betrayed me. He stole from me in a way. And I can’t stand for that.”
What he couldn’t stand for was anyone having power over him. Anything that could cost him even a sliver of his kingdom.
“How does it feel, Farah?” Arden ground out. “Knowing you’ll take the fall for this greedy prick? ”
Farah gripped Arden’s hair harder, giving her a good shake. “I don’t take the fall for anyone . I line up the dominoes for someone else’s demise.”
“Not this time,” Arden rasped. “He’s lying to you. He knows they won’t believe Hannah did this on her own. Cutting the power takes planning, and Hannah’s been in lockup.”
Farah’s gaze snapped to my father as if a flicker of doubt were creeping in. “Don’t even think about screwing me, Philip.”
He held up a hand in an attempt to placate her. “That’s not how I work. And why would I want to sacrifice my greatest weapon? How many enemies’ lives have you infiltrated for me? How many secrets have you stolen?”
Like a child preening at his words, Farah’s whole demeanor softened. “We do have the most fun together, don’t we?”
My father’s head turned slightly, just enough for me to see the sick smile spreading across his face. “We do.” His gaze flicked to Arden. “I have to say, I’ve grown a little attached to you. All the hours I’ve put into finding you. The artists’ age-progression renderings. The investigator following every lead. But it wasn’t until you moved that money that I found you.”
Confusion lit in Arden’s eyes. “Money?”
“All that money your parents left you, just sitting in the bank, and you never once touched it. But four months ago, you moved it from one bank to another and logged in from your home computer.”
The color drained from Arden’s face. “You tracked me from a computer.”
“Well, I didn’t. I have people for that. A well-placed network. It didn’t take me long to get Clarissa—I’m sorry, I mean Farah —in place here. I needed to know if you remembered more than my voice and those damn shoes.”
“Talk about a boring assignment,” Farah muttered. “‘Watch her. See if you think she’s remembering anything new.’”
“You were so determined to survive, I honestly thought about letting you live, just to keep things interesting. But then you had to get involved with Lincoln. ”
Hearing my name on my father’s lips had sickness roiling in my gut. In that moment, I would’ve carved his blood from my veins if I’d had a knife. I wanted to burn out any pieces of him in me.
Arden’s jaw clenched, her fists along with it.
My father tapped his fingers against his thigh. “What were the chances? You ending up with a foster brother on that godforsaken hockey team? Kismet. Destiny. But I couldn’t let you get close to my son. Risk that you would somehow recognize me from a photo or video. Hear my voice and send me straight to prison.”
“My brother,” Arden growled.
My dad cocked his head in confusion.
Arden’s fingers dug into Farah’s forearm. “Not my foster brother. My brother .”
My father’s head fell back in laughter. “So attached to that fake family of yours. It’s such a shame they’ll lose you.” His gaze hardened as he looked at Farah. “Do it.”
I didn’t wait. There was no time, no perfect moment. I released Brutus and charged around the corner, going straight for my dad, knowing that Brutus would see Arden in danger and go for her.
I hit him with all the force and power I could muster, but my father twisted at the last moment, avoiding the worst of my tackle.
A shriek of pain sounded, distracting me for a moment. Just long enough to register Brutus’s teeth sinking into Farah’s calf. Enough time for my father to clock me with the butt of his gun.
I stumbled back a few steps, trying to get my bearings.
Arden’s fist lashed out, connecting with Farah’s cheek in a brutal blow. Brutus didn’t miss his opportunity. He leapt in the air, his teeth sinking into Farah’s arm. The sound that came out of her this time was more animal than human. Her fingers released the knife as if all the tendons holding them in tension had been severed. And maybe they had.
Arden kicked the blade away as Farah fell to the floor, screaming in pain. “ Halten! ” Arden yelled to Brutus who promptly sat on Farah, using his full weight to pin her to the floor, his teeth lightly pressing against her neck .
It was all I could see before my father surged forward. I circled him as sirens pierced the air, my hands moving into a guard position as if that would protect me from a bullet.
My father let a slew of curses free as his eyes, so similar to mine, lit with rage. That fury was unlike anything I’d ever seen. As if that cold mask had finally been pulled.
“I should’ve known you would be my ruin,” he sneered.
“That’s on you, old man. You’re the one who poisons everything you touch.”
My father’s lip curled in a half snarl. “You know, I wanted to give you a chance to come to your senses. Just needed to strip everything from you first so you’d come crawling back, begging for scraps like the mongrel you are.”
I rolled to the balls of my feet. “You should know by now that I’ll never come begging for anything from you. I’d starve before I took a single scrap from your tainted table.”
My father grinned, the motion twisted just like he was. “Give your mother my best.”
And then, he fired.
Everything swirled: the moments, the sounds, the images in front of me.
Some part of my brain was aware of law enforcement calling out from below. Another caught hold of a scream behind me. But it all came apart as some force hit me from the side, taking me to the floor as another shot sounded.
I hit the carpet and hardwood with enough force to knock the air clean out of me. And then all I could see was Arden. Her mahogany hair a tangle around us, her beautiful eyes wide with shock.
My father screamed in pain as it sounded like some deputies took him to the floor. But all I could see was Arden.
“Cowboy,” she whispered.
“Vicious.” I rolled us so she was beneath me. “Are you okay? Are you—?” Everything stilled, the barked orders around me turning to nothing but a faint buzz. Because there was blood on Arden’s dress—way more than had been there before. And it was pooling on her belly, spreading across the fabric.
“Help!” I screamed the word, desperate for someone who could stop this from happening.
“Pressure,” Trace clipped. “Pressure on the wound.”
My hands moved without thought as I leaned my weight onto Arden. “Why?” I croaked, my eyes filling, tears falling and mixing with all that blood.
“Because I love you.”
And then I lost those eyes, the ones that had held me hostage. The ones that had saved me. They were gone, and there wasn’t anything I could do to stop it.