4. Sebastion #2
“Mmm.” He grunts. “That’s what I figured. By the time power was back on, she’d already cleared out. She swiped her credit card at the airport yesterday. Now she’s here.”
As we move around a gentle bend and the house comes into view, I slow us down a little more. “You abusing her right to privacy by having access to her purchases, Castro?”
“Abusing?” He considers. “No. I could. I’ve had access for years, but after the first dozen alerts coming up on my screen that told me what she was having for dinner, I turned all that shit off. She knows I can see everything she buys, but she also knows I’m not gonna look unless I have reason to.”
I can’t make us go any slower than we already are.
Short of pulling over to the shoulder and idling across the road from Nova’s house, we’ve bought as much time as we can.
Resigned, I turn into the driveway and bounce over potholes until I bring us to a stop a mere inch behind Scarlett’s shiny rental.
Killing the engine and casting my eyes across the front of the quiet house, I nibble on my bottom lip and mull over what we should do next.
“Your sister was dealing with a prick who liked to hit and fuck with a woman’s psyche.
She was taking fists to the face, and it’s entirely possible she slept rough more than a few times.
She didn’t say a damn thing. The only reason you found out was because of that dude, Mills.
” I peel my eyes away from the closed front door and lock onto Lincoln. “That’s what you’re telling me?”
“Unfortunately.” He unsnaps his seatbelt and sets his hand on the door handle, but he doesn’t open it.
He hesitates as anger and terror pass through his expression.
Uncertainty and dread. “She’s gonna try the same again.
She was born with this giant fucking chip inside her brain that tells her to deal with her shit on her own.
” Finally, he pushes the door open and slides out.
“It’s my job to convince her otherwise.”
“Does she often travel with a single suitcase of clothes and sixty million pens?” I climb out my side and match his stride toward the porch stairs. “She allergic to guns, or…?”
He scoffs. “The pens make her feel better. She draws to work through her nerves. The fact she brought so many is half the reason I had her figured out so soon.” Before I can stride up the porch steps, he slaps a hand against my chest and stops me at the bottom.
“She ain’t allergic to guns, though. She knows how to shoot, how to do it straight, and how to hit a moving jackrabbit from a hundred feet.
” His nostrils widen. “You might remember that next time you talk about mixing bloodlines.”
Humor blooms bright and bubbly directly beneath his hand. It works its way up my throat until my lips split into a wide grin. “A girl who knows how to handle a pistol isn’t the deterrent you think it is. Babes who can pierce a man’s skull right between the eyes turn me the fuck on.”
“I can shoot, too,” he growls. “Better. Sharper. And from much farther away.” He releases me and heads up the steps.
“A little friendly fire in the yard is easily explainable, so don’t piss me off.
Now I’m going inside to convince my sister to stop being so fuckin’ stubborn.
” Exhaling an unhappy grunt, he slips a key into the front door and strides in.
“Scarlett Castro!” He booms loud enough to bring my brows high.
“I gave you all of last night and this morning to stew in your stubbornness.”
I close the front door and follow him across the living room. Through the doorway and into the hall.
He’s sniffing the air. Hunting for the womenfolk.
“I gave you space, Scar, but I know you better than you th—”
He skids to a stop at the entrance to the kitchen, his head snapping back and his breath racing out on a heavy exhale.
Curious, I come to the doorway too and find both women waiting for us.
Watching.
No need to hunt them down.
Nova hovers on one side of the counter, bouncing her hip against the edge and nursing a cup of coffee between both hands.
Meanwhile, Scarlett sits hunched over a notebook, her long mahogany hair curtaining her face in sections, while she clutches a glitter gel pen and works furious squiggles across the already-full page.
Gulping, Lincoln moves closer, softening from the take-charge wannabe and transforming back into his usual the-women-control-me self. “Scar?” His voice is raspy and tight. Gritty and tired. He pulls out a stool and settles in beside the woman who makes me think: royalty.
She looks so fuckin’ expensive. So regal and monarchical.
“Please talk to me.” He places his hand carefully on top of hers and halts her furious squiggling. “I can’t help you unless you tell me what happened.”
Nova sets her coffee on the counter with a soft snick, reaches across in silence, and leafs through Scarlett’s notebook until she finds whatever page she’s looking for. Inching back, she places a separate sheet of paper in the space between siblings.
Too curious to stay where I am, I cross the kitchen and stop beside Nova, towering over her delicate frame as I read the slip of paper upside down. “I know what you did to Roy Daniels.” Scowling, I nudge Nova aside and snatch up the paper before Lincoln can. “Your ex?”
Teary-eyed, Scarlett’s bright blues venture up to mine and search for a moment. Staring, studying, and then stopping when she can’t hold on any longer. She swallows and drops her gaze. “Yeah.”
“Who gave this to you?” Lincoln bursts up from his stool and stalks across the room. “Who fucking knows, Scarlett?”
Nova clears her throat. So fucking innocent.
So calm. “As a younger sister who had her fill of overbearing big brothers obsessed with protecting her at every turn, one who shouted about everything that made him cranky and steamrolled over anything she needed to say if he considered his opinion more important, might I suggest you sit the hell down and let her speak?”
“Nova—”
“Now,” she growls. So calm… like a tiger shark right before its teeth sink into your flesh.
Frustrated, Lincoln shoves his hand through his hair, scratching and tugging the locks until they stand high.
But I don’t see him. Not really. I see Scarlett and the tears glistening on her cheeks. “Who else knew?” I fold my arms and stake my position within this conversation before they think to toss me out. “Richard knew. I knew, because he told me.” I look Lincoln’s way. “Who’ve you told?”
“Nobody! What the fuck do you think this is? Story time? I worked that last job for Richard so the secret would stay a secret. I don’t gossip about this shit to any old dickhead in town.”