Chapter Thirteen #2
Jessa was already moving. Noah and Roman followed without hesitation as Deacon headed for the front door. He didn’t wait. He swung it open just as Corbin pulled to a stop near the porch.
Deacon drew his gun and leveled it. “Step out of the truck. Now.”
Corbin opened the door carefully and climbed out, lifting both hands into the air. “Easy,” he said. “I’m not here to start anything.”
Roman’s weapon came up. Noah’s followed. Jessa stepped out beside Deacon, her gun steady in her grip, expression cold and focused.
They stood shoulder to shoulder on the porch, weapons trained on Corbin as he stood in the gravel below them with his hands raised.
Deacon didn’t lower his aim. “You picked the wrong place to drop in unannounced.”
Corbin swallowed hard, eyes flicking between the barrels pointed his way. “I came to talk,” he said. “That’s all.”
Deacon didn’t believe him for a second.
Corbin glanced at the line of guns trained on him and let out a cautious laugh. “Wow,” he said. “Didn’t realize I rated this much attention.”
No one lowered a weapon.
“I’m not the one who wants you dead,” Corbin added quickly. “Or her. Or any of you.”
Deacon kept his gun steady. He didn’t feel even a flicker of reassurance.
“Funny,” Deacon said. “Because it sure doesn’t look that way. Where’ve you been? And why haven’t you answered your phone?”
Corbin’s mouth tightened. “I’ve been lying low, trying to avoid Wynn and any shit he might try to pull me into. As for my phone, I didn’t have it. Wynn took it.”
Roman’s eyes narrowed. “When?”
“Yesterday,” Corbin said. “When I was in the truck with him. He wasn’t exactly in a sharing mood but muttered some nonsense about not wanting to be tracked.” He paused. “I’ve been using a burner until I can get another phone.”
Jessa shifted beside Deacon, tension sharp in her posture.
“Wynn’s gone off the deep end,” Corbin continued. “I mean really gone. The grief, the obsession, the paranoia. He’s not thinking straight anymore.”
Deacon studied him hard. “And you expect us to believe you just wandered over here to give us a warning?”
Corbin shrugged, hands still raised. “Believe it or not, yeah.”
Deacon wasn’t sure he did. “Was Wynn the one who shot at us?”
Corbin hesitated. Just long enough to matter. “I’m not sure,” he finally said. “But if you want my honest opinion, my money’s still on Shade.”
“That’s convenient,” Deacon grumbled.
Corbin ignored the tone. “I heard about what happened at the cemetery. Lauren’s grave. That kind of move feels like Shade. Petty. Vindictive. Trying to erase evidence.”
Jessa stiffened beside Deacon. Roman’s expression went cold, dangerous.
Corbin shifted his weight and glanced between them. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about the grave. About your mom.”
Roman’s mouth curved in a humorless smile. “Funny how you always show up right after the damage is done.”
Corbin winced. “That’s not fair.”
“No,” Roman shot back, voice sharp. “What’s not fair is my mother’s grave being desecrated while people like you stand around offering condolences.”
The words landed hard. Even Corbin didn’t have a reply for that.
Corbin let out a laugh, shaking his head as if Roman’s words hadn’t landed at all. “Guess you must be pretty scared,” he said, eyes sliding to Jessa. “Whole lot of muscle and firepower just to babysit you.”
Deacon felt the shift instantly. The jab was deliberate. Corbin was poking, trying to get a reaction.
Jessa didn’t rise to it, but Roman did.
“My sister’s more than capable of kicking any ass that needs kicking, including yours,” Roman snarled. “She doesn’t need a damn army to protect her.”
Corbin smirked. “Didn’t say she did.”
Roman stepped forward, weapon still trained on him. “Cut the crap. You didn’t come out here for a social visit or a welfare check. So why are you really here?”
The smirk slipped. The humor drained out of it, replaced by something tighter. “I think Shade’s about to set me up,” he grumbled. “Make it look like I’m the one who trashed Lauren’s grave.”
Deacon kept his expression neutral, even as his instincts stirred. This felt like a crack worth testing.
“You’re late on that worry,” Deacon said, and he launched into the lie. “The body wasn’t destroyed. The fire didn’t do the damage they wanted it to.”
Corbin blinked. “What?”
“We should still be able to get evidence from it,” Deacon continued. “Proof of how she was murdered. Once we have that, it’s only a matter of time before we ID who did it.”
Silence stretched.
Corbin’s eyes darted, quick and sharp. Alarm flared there before he managed to clamp it down. His breathing changed. Faster.
“That’s not what I heard,” Corbin said carefully.
Deacon shrugged. “Then you heard wrong.”
Corbin swallowed, his gaze flicking past Deacon and then back again. Whatever he had expected from the desecration, it clearly was not this.
And for the first time since he’d arrived, Deacon was convinced Corbin was afraid. But of what?
He didn’t get a chance to give that any thought because the security system beeped again. Ranger came to his feet with a deep bark that set Deacon’s nerves on edge. The dog rarely reacted unless something was truly off.
Deacon glanced past Corbin toward the road. Nothing. No vehicle. No movement. Just trees and still air.
Everyone felt it. The shift. Jessa tightened beside him. Roman angled slightly, weapon tracking the tree line. Noah scanned the perimeter, focused and silent.
Deacon opened his mouth to warn them to move.
Just as the crack of a gunshot split the air.