51. Chapter 50
Chapter 50
Keaton
After dropping Layne and Wentworth off at home, I drove straight to Lincoln Grady Distillery headquarters. Adrenaline punched through me, keeping me from feeling the height as I took the elevator to the fourteenth floor.
As expected, Regina was in the middle of a meeting. I could see her through the glass wall of the main conference room sitting at the head of the table. Without knocking, I barged inside, drawing everyone’s attention. The entire room gaped at my blood-stained dress shirt and battered face.
The only person I had my attention on was the Dragon. “I’m out. You won.” Before she could even get a word in, I turned and marched out of the conference room, not bothering with the door.
My next stop was Aaron’s office. I leaned over his secretary’s desk and pushed the button that opened the door despite her protests. She followed me all the way into his office.
“Where is he?” I asked, when I found it empty.
“He’s n-not here,” the young woman stammered.
“I can see that. Where did he go?”
“He left. I think h-he went home.”
Strange, that he bailed in the middle of the morning. The guy practically lived in his office. What was he doing at home?
Whatever. Regina would tell him soon enough that I was out.
Not even five minutes later, I was back on the road, racing home to Layne. What had I done to deserve such a beautiful, funny, savage wife? I honestly didn’t know, but I’d do anything in the world to keep her. Even square off with her brother, who’d given me the worst headache I’d ever had and probably a damaged kidney and cracked ribs. The guy could throw a punch.
But it was worth it. Heck, I’d just deep-sixed my entire future. Even the Monroe Foundation.
And didn’t give a squat if it meant I could keep Layne safe.
I stilled. Deep-sixed my entire future.
Holy crap, I’d been so blind. It was Aaron. He had an engineering degree and knew how to make an IED. He was so scared that I would run LGD into the ground that he tried to stop me. But he wasn’t man enough to tell Regina.
Muttering an oath, I pulled off the highway and headed south. The white wrought iron gate to my parents’ property was open, and I sped down the tree-lined gravel road toward the regal three-story mansion perched on the edge of ragged cliffs.
The butler must’ve heard the roaring of my TRX, because he stepped out of the door.
“Where’s Aaron?” I asked as I climbed out and jogged up the concrete steps.
“You just missed him,” the man said, his nasally tone grating on my nerves. I’d never liked him.
“Where’d he go?”
“I don’t know, Mr. Grady.”
A phone chimed. My phone. The special alarm that went off when someone entered the code to the main gate of our property.
My heartbeat slowed. Had Layne left without my knowledge and was coming back home?
I unearthed my cell and glanced at it. One of the feeds showed someone slipping through the gate at this very moment, dressed in all black and wearing a ball cap. Was that a canister?
One thing was for sure—it wasn’t Layne. The trespasser was taller. Leggier.
And it wasn’t Wentworth either, because he lay sprawled in the drive.
My blood turned to ice. Was he . . .
I sprinted down the steps to my TRX, speed-dialing Layne’s number. It rang five times, then went to voice mail. Gravel kicked up when I stepped on the accelerator.
“Come on, come on, come on,” I muttered as I dialed again.
Same result.
Spitting a curse, I hung up. Realized I could pray. But first I had to call Bancroft.
He picked up on the second ring. “Grady, what’s up?”
“You need to send someone to my house,” I said, barreling off my parents’ property and back into traffic. “Someone just entered via the gate. It wasn’t Layne, and no one else has the code. I think it’s Aaron and someone else. My brother pulled security, and now he’s . . . face down in my driveway. No idea what happened.”
“I’m right outside Glam City, on Cougar Street. On my way.” With that, Bancroft hung up.
It’d take him a while to get through traffic, so I was on my own for now.
I shot Rhyner a voice message, grateful the guy had practically shoved his number down my throat, then stomped the accelerator through the floor. Other drivers honked at me as I overtook them like a lunatic. I all but drifted around the bends.
Right before I made it to our house, Aaron shot past me in his Porsche Cayenne. Our eyes met for a brief moment, and I just knew . Who was the person in the passenger seat? With the hood up, face turned away, I couldn’t tell. For a moment, I debated turning around and chasing after them, but what if they’d done something to Layne?
Adrenaline pumped through me when I reached the gate. I punched in the code, and while the gate opened, unearthed my SIG and performed a press check to verify a round was chambered. Then I raced onto our property and stopped right in front of the main door. The smell of burnt wood and smoke hit my nostrils when I jumped out of the TRX. Was that the smoke alarm blaring? SIG at the ready, I jogged down to Wentworth. A dart stuck in his neck.
Knowing better than messing with evidence, I left it where it was and felt for his carotid. Strong pulse.
I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God.
After positioning him in the lateral recumbent position, I searched him for firearms in case someone was still around. Came up empty. Aaron must’ve taken Wentworth’s GLOCK.
Following the muzzle of my SIG, I walked back up the drive and approached the door. Movement at my ten o’clock caught my attention.
Smoke. A lot of it. So much whirled behind the windows of the gym that I couldn’t see the machines or equipment.
Fire! My house was on fire!
I sprinted to the door and unlocked it. A thick, dark smoke cloud engulfed me. Pulling my dress shirt over my nose, I slammed the door shut behind me to avoid feeding the fire with oxygen. The entire entry hall was clouded. I could hear the crackling of flames devouring wood, but not see them. Definitely came from the kitchen. The living room, too?
“Layne!”
The alarm was so deafening that she most likely couldn’t hear me.
“Layne!” I shouted again anyway as I fought my way through the thick smoke to the stairs, staying low where it was less dense. My eyes and throat burned, and a cough worked its way up. Which lead to me inhaling even more smoke.
Eyes watering, I continued forward. Bumped into something. Couldn’t make out what through the tears. The ceiling and floors were made of wood, so were the stairs. But how had they caught on fire like that? The only plausible explanation was that Aaron and his helper had used a combustive agent. That would explain the canister the other person had carried.
I made it to the entrance of the living room, where the smoke was less dense. Flames greedily licked at the thick ceiling beams high above.
I inched inside, feeling the heat like I stood too close to a bonfire.
Crack!
One of the beams came down, and I dove to the side. It hit the floor inches from where I’d just stood, sparks spraying everywhere.
Heat seared into my left leg. I bit down on a roar.
Layne. I had to get her out of here before the entire house collapsed on top of her. Monroe had already died at my hands. Not Layne, too.
Where was my SIG? I must’ve dropped it, but couldn’t see where.
No time.
Gritting my teeth, I scrambled back to my feet. Pulled the dress shirt now not only bloodied but also riddled with small holes back over my mouth and nose, and crouch-ran to the stairs. Thank God they weren’t on fire.
My stomach tightened as I climbed the steps. They were wet, a chemical odor mixed with charred wood penetrating the fabric of my shirt. Definitely an accelerant.
Upstairs, smoke hung at the ceiling of the hallway. I sprinted to Layne’s room. The door was closed, and I burst inside.
She lay curled up on the bed with her back to me.
“Layne!” I flung myself onto the mattress, causing her to flinch.
Bleary-eyed, she turned to me. “You scared—”
“The house is on fire. We have to get out of here!”
“What?” She removed earbuds from beneath her curls.
“Fire. We need to get out.”
Her eyes bulged, a sliver of panic flitting across her face. By now she had to be smelling the smoke.
“C’mon.” I grabbed her hand, pulling her with me to the door.
We came to an abrupt halt at the top of the stairs. Flames devoured the steps, the heat almost unbearable. There was no way we could use them.
I shoved Layne back, my brain scrambling for another way out.
“The pool,” she shouted over the crackling and hissing of the fire, as if reading my thoughts.
“You want to—” My stomach heaved. She wanted to jump ? I shook my head. “No, we’re absolutely not going to jump.”
“We don’t have a choice.” Now it was her who was pulling me. “Unless you want to get barbecued.”
No, thanks.
Reluctantly, I followed her back into her room and closed the door behind us. Get a grip, Grady.
Hyping myself up some more, I opened one of the windows. And nearly hurled at the height. My head swam despite the glorious oxygen flooding my lungs. The pool was at least fifteen feet below.
“This won’t work,” Layne said. “It’s too far out. The only way we’ll make it is if we jump from the roof.”
I just stared at her. The roof ? Just the thought of having to climb that high . . . “You’re crazy if you think I’m going up there.”
“Keaton, look at me.”
Seriously, I couldn’t climb on the roof. Could think of a hundred better ways to die.
Smack.
I jerked back, my cheek stinging. “Did you just slap me?”
“Getting burned alive is going to hurt a whole lot more, so I need you to focus.” She grabbed my hands. “You can do this, okay? God is with us.”
Her dark eyes exuded a strength and calmness that penetrated my crippling fear. I nodded. “Okay, yeah. The roof it is.”
Oh man, I wasn’t sure I could hold onto my dignity here.
Layne sprinted to the bathroom, then came back with two wet towels. “Put this over your mouth and nose. It’ll help with the smoke.”
Smart woman. I grabbed a towel and tied it around the lower half of my face.
“There’s a skylight all the way at the back of the hallway.” Layne’s voice was muffled by her own towel. “Is there a ladder or anything else we can use to climb up?”
“Don’t think so.”
“Wait, there’s a dresser in Monroe’s room.” After closing the window, Layne tugged me to the door and opened it.
Black smoke slapped our faces. My eyes instantly began to water.
A loud crack, followed by an even louder crash echoed through our home. It was collapsing like a house of cards.
Layne and I palmed the wall for guidance as we stumbled down the hall until we reached the skylight. I pulled out the key to Monroe’s room and unlocked it.
The fire had eaten through the floor at the back and engulfed the bed. My chest tightened at the sight of flames ravaging Monroe’s stuffed animals.
Tearing myself away from that scene, I turned to the dresser standing right next to the door. And froze.
The other person. I knew who it was.