Chapter Fourteen
Iheld Roan’s words in my ears on the ride to the farm the next day. I don’t remember the excuse I gave the guys to get away. It was all a fog, and Cairo and the guys were distracted dissecting every word Roan said at the party the night before.
None of them were too pleased at Roan’s promise to back off if they chose the Crows and Bedlam 2.0. He reminded them the best way to control the masses was to give them the illusion of choice and control. Look at the entire American government system.
Roan was an interesting guy with thought processes that I’d bet would dizzy me trying to figure out, but he struck the first serious strike against the Crows. I’d go so far to say he won the war. The Bedlam Boys were not good guys, and this experience would not reform them or make them nicer.
That said, they also weren’t drug dealers, rapists, boy toys, or roving campus for random people to beat up just because. If someone was out there trying to make a case for the Crows, I wished I was there to see him sweat and stumble over his argument.
The sun had set by the time Frankie’s fill-in dropped me off. It was her day off and she was entitled to a fun, relaxing night with her kids. It was me destined for nightmares.
I walked past the creaking farm sign, wishing I came earlier. It was eight o’clock. Four hours before the Letter Man was supposed to arrive. Plenty of time for me to set myself up to lie in wait.
I went inside the barn, set up a few hay bales, and picked up my bow. It was an odd feeling having it in my hands. I expected it to be tainted. That every time I closed on the wood, Scott Cavendish would pop in my mind.
No. All I saw was Gran and Ivy. Long summer days practicing while they cheered me on. Gran correcting my stance. Ivy tickling me so I’d miss and send it sailing through the trees.
I chose archery because it’s about patience—and being badass. Finding your stance. Feeling your shot. Breathing, aiming, focusing, and letting nothing steal your center.
Archery was my calm place. With a bow in my hand, I was always strong enough to prove them wrong.
I stayed inside the barn, practicing my shot, reading on my phone, and eating handfuls of the snacks tucked in my bag.
Jeremyflashed on my screen forty-five minutes in.
“Hello?”
“Everything,” he growled. “I want to know everything about them, where they’re staying, and how to get to them now!”
I flinched, drawing the phone away. Not that I blamed him. Paris told me earlier that they shouted the guy out of his own house screaming brother-fucker. Coke-peddler, manwhore, and rapist were the words du jour gifted Gael, Jonah, and Bentley.
They locked themselves in their rooms and called the cops to bust up the party. She said the officers brought the Crows in too over the huge quantities of controlled substances sitting in bowls all over the place.
Jeremy Ellis was not having a good day.
“Is your brother okay?” I asked.
His tone sharpened. “Why are you asking about him? Everything Banks said was bullshit. He planted that stuff on my phone. I never—”
“Whoa, slow down. I promise it was an innocent question.”
“He’s fine,” he snapped. “Roan was smart getting him out of the way, so he couldn’t say who those texts were really for. Now we have to be smart.”
We.
“Where are they staying? I see the lights on at St. James’s place. Are they all there or just him?”
“I—”
“Doesn’t matter, we need him too,” Jeremy said mostly to himself. “Banks and St. James are fucking. Alright, tonight you’ll get us into the mansion, de Souza. Once we have him, Roan will come running. Then—”
“I’m going to stop you there,” I said, sitting against the hay bale. “I’m out of town tonight, so I won’t be able to get you in anywhere. Even if I could, I won’t be a part of this.”
“We have a fucking deal!”
“For me to give you verifiable information in connection with construction or fighting your development in my town. That’s it. I’m not obligated to become an accessory in the revenge plot I hear brewing in your head. Don’t throw the contract at me again. I’m prelaw, Ellis. I know what it says.”
“But Banks—”
“I know what he did and I know how I’d feel if it was me. That’s why I won’t help you. You should not make decisions right now. Cool down, and then call me.”
I ended the call and silenced my phone to the others. This wasn’t about Jeremy’s vendetta.
It was about mine.
The clock ticked down to nine. Ten. Eleven.
Dusting off my hands, I checked outside one last time. No one had arrived or approached the house. Once you got to the trees, you had cover. Otherwise, it was clear sightlines on the twelve acres of farm.
I’ll go inside and stand with my back facing the fireplace. I’ll have them if they come through the front door or from the back. If they attack me, I defend myself.
A simple plan without holes—except when I considered the possibility all they wanted to do was talk.
The question invaded my mind on the walk across the green.
If the death of Axel Verlice changed things and now they were willing to tell me the truth, how would the night end? Do I hope to get him to the police station with a bow and arrow at his back? Do I entertain the thought of killing him, and ending his threat to my life once and for all?
I climbed the porch steps. If I find out his name and who he is, I’ll let him go. The police can mull over the dilemma of killing him in a shootout instead of—
Pausing, I lit on a small, black envelope lying where the welcome mat used to be. When did he leave this? He couldn’t have come while I was in the barn, so it must’ve been sometime before then and after Jeremy and I drove away from the farm.
I picked it off the porch.
Did you really think you could fool me, bitch?
I’ll give it to you, you had me going for a second. That just makes the betrayal worse.
You’re not who I thought you were.
You’re a fake. A mistake. A waste.
Damaged garbage left in the discard bin, and you’re too stupid to know it.
I bet you still don’t know who’s on the other side of this door.
I read the note once, twice, five times, palms slickening with each one.
Did I think I could fool him? What did that mean? Did he know about Verlice?
How?
Doesn’t matter. I dropped the note, leveling my bow. I didn’t know who was on the other side of this door, but I was going to find out.
“This ends tonight.”
Grabbing the knob, I let the door swing open. It parted a crack and stopped.
“Hmm.”
Planting my feet on the wood, I kicked it in, running inside.
“Hmmm!”
Bella screamed at me—eyes bulging and wetness soaking her gag. She thrashed in the chair she was tied to, banging the legs on the rotted living room floor.
“Hmm!”
Snap.
A tiny missile streaked across my vision. The arrow sunk in Bella’s chest, and it wasn’t mine.
“Bella!” I ran to her, dropping my bow and arrow at her feet. “Oh, Bella, no. No, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Her head dropped to her chest, the light fading from her eyes.
“No!” I screamed. My lung ripped with sobs.
It was a trap. A trap that I sprung.
The Letter Man found out I didn’t kill Axel, and my friend paid the price as promised.
“No, p-please. Bella, no. It’s my fault. This is all my fault.”
I scrabbled at her zip ties. She couldn’t be dead. I’d get her to the hospital. I’d call—
Eeeee.
A door creaking open pierced my mania. The Letter Man was here. He came to watch the final moments with Jennifer, and now my destruction.
A polished black shoe stepped over the threshold.
Snatching up my bow, I whipped around, a keening wail breaking the silence, and released my arrow.
It stuck in the wood—centimeters from his face.
“Ouch.” He stepped out of the shadows, and every beautiful inch of Cairo Sharpe revealed. “Not the welcome I was hoping for.”