Chapter 45
forty-five
. . .
LANE
Two days later, Sutton woke up, and I made damn sure I was the first person she saw.
I’d pulled all the strings I could to secure her a private suite, which thankfully came with a couch and a bathroom.
When my family came up to the hospital after the incident, Mama brought us both clothes and toiletries.
I hadn’t left Sutton since she’d come out of surgery.
Instead, I slept on the sofa that was not wide enough for my big body.
My brothers had started to call me a creep and tease me that Sutton wouldn’t want me anymore when she learned about the constant vigil I kept at her side, but I flipped them off and ignored them.
This woman was my life. My heart and soul.
I refused to let her out of my sight. Now that I knew she’d come out of this on the other side, I was never letting her go again.
It was because of this vigil, because of my unwavering attention on her face, waiting for the moment she’d open those pretty amber eyes, that I was leaning over her the second she did.
They blinked slowly, sluggishly, parting only to slam shut again—likely thanks to the harsh lighting in these rooms.
Finally, though, they opened all the way, and I grinned, entirely unashamed of the tears falling down my face.
“Sunny,” I breathed, cupping her face in my hands, careful with her broken cheekbone.
“L-Lane,” she croaked.
“God, baby, you scared me.”
“I…” she cleared her throat slightly, and I reached over to the nearby bed tray for the cup of water I kept full and fresh, positioning the straw at her lips so she could take a drink. “What happened?”
“You were in a car accident. The doctor will go over everything with you, but all that matters is you’re going to be okay.”
Sutton gasped, as though my words triggered something, and her frail hand reached for my arm, latching onto it tightly.
“Addie?” she whispered. “She…she…”
“Shh,” I soothed, bending to press a kiss to her forehead. “I know all about what Addie did.”
“She was going to kill me.”
“She can’t hurt you now.”
Unfortunately, she survived the car accident.
But fortunately, the evidence Trey and I had gathered against her and Johns was more than enough to ensure both would be spending a significant amount of time behind bars.
Addie was here in the hospital, on a different floor in a different wing, with round the clock security and handcuffs securing her to her bed.
Once she’d recuperated enough, she would stand trial.
Plus, we’d managed to track down Nick Boyd, who’d been more than happy to give up everything he had on the pair in exchange for leniency with his own charges.
After our show down on the side of the road, Johns had gone underground, but Trey was working tirelessly to locate him. The man wasn’t that smart; he’d slip up eventually.
“Are you sure?” Sutton asked.
“Positive. No one will ever hurt you again.”
Sutton nodded and squeezed her eyes shut, tears leaking free. I gently brushed them away with my thumb.
“I was so scared,” she whispered. “In that car with Addie.”
“I can’t even imagine. But listen, we don’t have to talk about this right now, okay? The most important thing is your recovery. There will be time to discuss all of this later.”
She blinked up at me, tears clinging to her lashes and making them all spiky. “I love you,” she said.
I grinned, though my throat was clogged with emotion. Fuck, there was a time when I thought I’d never hear those words again.
“I love you too.”
The next day, though I was loath to leave her side, I put Trey in charge of Sutton’s safety. He’d located Johns, and I needed to bring him in—or take him out. It was a toss-up.
He surprised me by descending on her hospital room with board games, Aspen and Reagan in tow, intent on cheering her up with some wholesome fun. I left her with a lingering kiss and promise that I’d be back soon.
I asked Finn and West to meet me at my house. I had a job to do, and I needed someone to watch my back. There weren’t any people in the biz better than the twins.
This was strictly off books. Although, even if it wasn’t, there was no way in hell I would trust anyone in my department to help me.
I was struggling to trust any of them lately, and once this whole mess was settled, I’d be taking a good hard look at my staff, making sure no one who had aided Johns remained.
Finn, West, and I gathered around my kitchen island, the twins eyeing me warily.
“Is this the part where you finally kill us for tormenting you for years?”
I choked on a laugh at how close to the mark West’s comment had struck.
Not them, though. I loved my family. I would kill for them, would do everything in my power to make sure no harm came to them.
I hoped they felt the same.
“I have something I have to take care of,” I started.
“Sheriff’s business?”
“Nah,” I said. “Well…yes, but no.”
“You’re not making any sense,” Finn said.
“I should be acting on behalf of the department, but no. For me, this is personal.”
“This is about Sutton, isn’t it?” West asked.
I nodded. “If you’re going to come with me, to help me take care of this…problem, there’s something you should know.”
They glanced at each other, shared the type of quick, wordless exchange they’d been having their entire lives, then faced me again and nodded.
“It goes without saying that none of this leaves this room.”
“If it goes without saying, then why did you say it?” West quipped.
I glared, and he raised his hands in surrender.
“First, you need to know that the night of her twentieth birthday, Sutton was raped.”
Their faces adopted identical expressions of horror, but they didn’t ask questions, simply kept their mouths shut while I explained everything.
Our brief but all-consuming relationship. The rape and its aftermath. How she pushed me away. How she’d been strong-armed into signing the settlement offer that meant the rich prick wouldn’t face jail time.
“Why didn’t you fight for her?” Finn asked.
Having no good answer for that, I shrugged. “I was a dumb kid. It doesn’t matter now anyway, does it?”
“I suppose not,” he mused.
Continuing my story, I told them about Ryan. About how I couldn’t stand the thought of him returning to normalcy, of him getting to live the rest of his life in relative peace without suffering the consequences of what he’d done.
“I have a really bad feeling about where this is going,” West said.
“I killed him,” I confirmed, instantly experiencing discordant sensations of relief and dread. Though they were my brothers, and I trusted them implicitly, I’d spent sixteen years holding onto this secret. Sharing the burden with other people now was equal parts cathartic and terrifying.
Both of their mouths popped open, and West inhaled like he was about to start asking questions, but I held up a hand.
“We’re not discussing particulars, so don’t ask. The less you guys know, the better.”
“Fair,” Finn said. “What does this have to do with this ‘job’ you need to do?”
I shot him an imploring look. West caught on only a fraction of a second before Finn, their eyes widening comically as my intentions sank in.
“You want to take him out.”
“I want to talk to him. But…I can’t guarantee things won’t go sideways. If I lay eyes on him and fucking lose it, I’m telling you not to be surprised.”
West rolled his eyes. “You say that like you’re the first person to kill a bad guy.”
“Hell, I did it a few months ago,” Finn supplied.
I shook my head. These stupid fucks.
“I really do want to just talk to him, then arrest his ass.”
“Okay, sure,” Finn said, getting up from the stool, West following suit. “Let’s go talk then.”
Happy they were on board without very little fanfare, we hopped in my truck and headed out of town.
The location Trey sent me was deep in the foothills of the mountains, roughly an hour away from my house.
I wasn’t in any hurry, though. I knew that little rat wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon if he could avoid it.
He’d bedded down like a fucking bear in hibernation, certain no one would ever be able to find him out here, so far off the grid.
Most people probably wouldn’t have been able to track him down.
But most people didn’t have the skills and tenacity of Trey Lawless.
We didn’t speak. The twins were content to follow my lead, but every once in a while, the silence was broken by West muttering to himself or making noises of disbelief.
At one point, he leaned forward, head between the front seats, and hissed, “I can’t fucking believe Sheriff Hardass is a killer. Can you fucking believe that?”
“You’ve killed people too,” I reminded him.
“For the government.”
“Not Finny,” I grinned, and the offended twin socked me in the arm. “But you didn’t have to come.”
“It’s not that,” West said. “I’m just having trouble believing it is all.”
“I am the way I am because of that,” I admitted. “I’ve done the worst thing imaginable, and from that day forward, I vowed never to go to that dark place again.”
“Except now,” Finn pointed out unhelpfully.
I glared at him in the rearview. “I told you, I just want to talk to him.”
“Then what are we here for?”
“Back up. I’m going to need to bring him in, but I don’t trust anyone in the department right now. And I definitely don’t trust myself.”
“Ohhhh,” West said. “You want us to keep you on the straight and narrow. Got it.”
Honestly, I didn’t know what I wanted. I had no clue how this confrontation would play out, but if I decided to kill this fucker in an act of rage, I wanted people around me I could trust.
What seemed like ages later, we arrived at our destination.
Instead of pulling into the driveway of the remote cabin, I parked up the road, and we went on foot.
I didn’t want to give him the opportunity to escape into the woods.
The last thing I felt like doing was going on a wild goose chase through the wilderness.
All I wanted was to get this over with so I could get back to Sutton.
The cabin was nothing special, probably only big enough for an open concept kitchen-living room, bedroom, and small bath. I experienced a flash of deja vu, the entire thing reminding me of the cabin owned by the Prom Night Arsonist, and the place they’d taken Crew to kill him a few years back.
But if anyone died today, it would not be me or the twins.
Directing West around back to be sure there wasn’t a rear entrance, Finn and I approached the front.
Our footfalls were heavy as we climbed the steps to the porch that ran the front of the structure. My knock on the door reverberated through the otherwise quiet woods.
I sensed movement inside, and a beat later, the little sheer curtain at the window twitched to the side. Johns and I made eye contact, and I could sense the panic on his part, his fight or flight response kicking in.
Flight won out, and he turned on his heel, racing through the house.
Confident West had things covered at the back, I went inside and walked calmly through the space, toward the sounds of a struggle.
West and Johns were tussling on the ground outside the back steps, rolling around in the snow. Finally, West got the upper hand, restraining Johns’ arms behind his back and hauling him to his feet.
When I could finally look the man in the eye, I said, “Hello, Johns. I think it’s time you and I had a talk.”