Chapter 18
Emma
“Hey,” Kennedy greets as she steps into the house and slips off her boots. She looks exhausted—something I can more than understand since I was privy to her and Bradyn’s conversation this morning about everything that needed to be done today. Their to-do list put all of mine to shame.
Meanwhile, I’m in nearly the exact same spot I was in this morning. Though I did scrub every inch of this place and bake three kinds of cookies before settling down with my Bible and a cup of hot tea. “Hey. Good day?”
She surveys the house, then inhales deeply. “From the look and smell of things, it’s about to be one. You didn’t have to clean. Or cook. You’re our guest, Emma.”
“I know, but I’m going crazy over here, and it seemed like the only way to regain some of my sanity.
I’m a big stress cleaner.” I set my Bible aside and get to my feet to stretch.
Thankfully, they’d gone to my place and grabbed a few of my things.
Though not enough to alert any suspicion should people be sent there to look for me. “Oddly, it helps me relax.”
“Fair enough.” Kennedy smiles and hangs her baseball cap on a hook near the front door. “Bradyn will be in shortly. Elliot stopped him and said he had some news, so they went to their office.”
“News? Is everything okay?” Did something else come up? I haven’t spoken to Dylan since our conversation yesterday, when he told me that my birth mother had been killed and promised to help me find answers.
No matter how many times I told him I didn’t want them at the risk of his life, he wouldn’t listen. I assumed he wasn’t coming around because he’s been busy. But—did something happen? Surely he wouldn’t have made a move without telling me, right?
“Everything’s fine.” She retrieves a glass from the cabinet and starts to fill it with water; instead, she turns off the water, sets the glass on the counter, and turns to me. She chews on her bottom lip and places a hand on her hip.
“What happened, Kennedy?” I ask again, already imagining one horrible scenario after the other.
“Dylan and Tucker have been in New Jersey all day.”
“New Jersey?” I cross my arms. “Why?”
She hesitates just a moment. “To meet with Harlow Slater.”
“Harlow Slater,” I repeat the name. “Wait, as in Heath Slater? I’m assuming the same last name isn’t a coincidence.”
“It’s not,” she says. “Harlow is his mother. She and Felicity were close friends, and the boys thought they could get some answers from her since Tucker hacked into a text thread between them.”
My face grows cold, my stomach plummeting. “Then what’s the news? Is everything okay?” All I can picture is Heath attacking Dylan. Of him falling back and Heath standing over his body, only it’s not Heath I see—it’s a snake. Just like the one tattooed on his face.
“I’m sure they’re fine, okay? Bradyn probably had to go because they were checking in. They do that sometimes, all gather for the check-in. If it were an emergency, he would’ve looked a lot more worried.”
“So he looked worried?”
“No. I mean, a little concerned, but that’s just Bradyn. He worries until he doesn’t have to.”
“Kennedy—”
“Emma, it’ll be fine. Okay? I didn’t want to worry you, but I thought you should know just in case.”
“Just in case something goes wrong and they get themselves killed.” I shake my head. “I begged him to leave it alone.”
“Let’s just hold off and see what Bradyn has to say, okay? He’ll be in any minute.”
I clench my fists and fight the urge to track Bradyn down myself. Surely we would’ve all gotten the call if it were something more serious, right? They wouldn’t leave all of us in the dark.
Still, something is wrong. I know it is. I uncross my arms and clench both hands into fists.
Lord, please let them be okay. Please let them be okay, I repeat.
How could they walk into a den of vipers like that and not have something go wrong? Gio is a bad man…but Heath Slater is so much worse. Thankfully, I don’t have to wait much longer because the front door opens and Bradyn strolls in.
“Are they okay?” I blurt.
He glances over at Kennedy, who shrugs. “She deserved to know. You know it, and I know it.”
Bradyn sighs. “I know. I told Dylan to tell you,” he adds to me.
I cross my arms. “Yeah, well, Dylan doesn’t have the greatest communication skills. What happened?”
“There was a shooting at the café they met Harlow Slater at.”
“A shooting?” I choke on the word and have to reach out to steady myself on the wall behind me. “Are they—did they—”
“They’re both fine,” he says quickly. “Harlow Slater was hit, but the bullet missed anything vital and went straight through. She’s been in the hospital all day, and they’ve been dealing with local PD.”
They’re okay. I take a deep breath, but the helpless twisting in my gut remains.
“Who shot her?” Kennedy asks.
“We don’t know. But Dylan and Tucker are staying with her for protection until she’s able to leave the hospital.”
“Then what?” I demand. “If she was the target, they’ll just keep coming after her.” I think about Felicity. I may not have known her well, but that didn’t keep me from crying most of the night, thinking about the little time I had with her.
How unfair it was that she was killed all because she helped me.
Will Harlow meet the same fate? And why?
How many more people have to die before this is all over? Ice water in my veins, I redirect my attention to the conversation.
“We’re not sure who pulled the trigger yet.”
“But you have your suspicions,” I say.
Bradyn nods. “Both Gio and Heath have motive to want her dead if she helped Felicity in the way we think she did.”
“Helped her with what?”
Bradyn crosses his arms and leans back against the door. “She told Dylan and Tucker that she wanted to see her husband’s legacy crumble. That she and Felicity had that in common. She also helped organize your escape with the boutique manager.”
I press a fist to my chest, just above my heart. “She’s okay?”
He nods. “For now.”
“When will they be back?”
Bradyn shrugs. “I’m not sure about that either. Tucker said as soon as possible, but they have to wait until she can be released from the hospital.”
“They’re at risk just being there,” I say.
“They are, but that’s the job.”
“Except the job was finding me, not stopping two major crime families. I’m right here. The job is done.” My heart is pounding. Head spinning. He’s going to get himself killed. Someone else is going to die for me before this is all over.
Is that why Dylan is doing it? Because it’s a risk? I shove the thought aside even as it crosses my mind. No. He wouldn’t be risking his brothers this way. Even if he doesn’t value his own life, he values theirs.
“You know Dylan. He’s not going to let this go until the threat is over.”
I look up at Bradyn. “Then make him stop. You’re in charge, right? You’re the one who officially runs the team.”
“Emma—”
“Tell him to stop. That it’s not worth his life.”
“He doesn’t see it that way.”
“He doesn’t have to. If you order him to—”
“Emma. We don’t operate that way. Yes, I started the company. Yes, I technically run it, but we all work together. We all decide which missions we take, and I’m not going to tell him to not risk everything for your safety when I did the exact same thing to protect Kennedy.”
I glance over at Kennedy now, who’s been silent during our exchange.
“That was different,” I insist.
“No,” Bradyn replies. “It really wasn’t.”
“Yes. You two were together.”
Bradyn’s expression softens just a bit. “You might not be in a relationship anymore, but make no mistake—my brother never stopped loving you, Emma. Even if I did try to convince him that we couldn’t be involved in this, he’d go do it alone.
He’s not backing down from this. Not until the threat is eliminated—or he is. ”
Tears fill my eyes, and I wrap both arms around myself. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“What do you think the future looks like for us?” I ask as I tilt my face up to stare at the stars.
Dylan’s arm is around my shoulders as I lean against him on the porch swing while we wait for my mom to come pick me up. “What do you want it to look like?” he asks.
I turn my head to look at him. “I asked you first.”
He grins. “But I want everything you want, Emma Franklin. Which means you already know what I want.”
I smile, my heart fluttering in my chest just like it always does whenever he says ridiculously adorable things. Which happens relatively frequently. Even at seventeen, I know what I want.
I know exactly how I want the rest of my life to go.
“Let me think,” I say as I sit up and tap my finger to my chin. “I want a cat. And a dog. Maybe some chickens.”
He laughs. “All doable.”
“And I want wildflowers everywhere. A house surrounded by them.”
His smile widens. “Again, doable.”
“And I want you. Forever. A family. I want to teach our children the way your mother taught you guys, and I want to raise them with you.”
Dylan leans in and presses his lips to my forehead. My skin sizzles where his lips linger. “I can give you all of that and so much more.”
“Good.” I smile, my entire world right here on this swing with me.
“I love you, Emma.”
“I love you too, Dylan.” As he pulls away, I lay my head against his shoulder again, soaking in every second of this moment. It doesn’t matter that we’re young. Dylan and I were made for each other. Both of us placed in each other’s lives by God.
And I’ll spend every day of my life thanking Him for that.
With Ash curled up beside me and my Bible open in my lap, I wipe tears from my eyes as the memory of that peaceful night lingers in my mind. We were so young—so na?ve to believe that we had a future ahead of us.
Yet here I sit at three o’clock in the morning, propped up against the headboard, chasing sleep that continues to outrun me.
I’ve cried until my eyes hurt, prayed until I had no words left, and now I sit here, staring at the wall, wishing that I could at least talk to him. But since Tucker told me that Gio and Heath could be monitoring my cell phone and email, I have to avoid using either.
Groaning, I set my Bible aside and lay back in the bed. Ash yawns and stretches before moving toward the foot of the bed and curling up again.
“Lord, why is this happening to me?” I whisper aloud to the empty room.
I’ve never been much for confrontation. It just never felt worth it to me. By the time a situation has escalated to the point of an argument, both sides are typically so rooted in their reason for the argument that there’s no chance of trying to rationally get a point across.
But I’d welcome a confrontation with Dylan right now because it means he’d be here to fight. Maybe if he were, I could convince him that he needs to let the authorities handle this so that he can stay safe.
Maybe I could convince him that my life means nothing if he’s not in it—even from a distance. That him being killed would be worse than any fate Gio or Heath Slater have in store for me.
Would he care then?
If he knew that losing him would cost me everything?