“I’m good…just watch my parents. Emily. Maggie. Who the fuck knows who they’ll be coming for next. No one goes anywhere alone.”
No doubt, their goal was sending a message.
A message of fear.
It was the message they’d been perpetrating all along.
My teeth grated.
No more.
Rage pulsed through his expression, our thoughts mirroring the other. “This has to end. All of it.”
“It will,” I promised him. “We just have to get to the trial.”
When we did, this would end.
On a slight nod, he backed away and lifted his chin. “Anything goes amiss? Call. I’ll be here.”
“I know.”
Turning on his heel, he jogged around the front of the car and slipped into the driver’s seat. Rhys rolled down the back-passenger window, poked his head out, and slapped his hand on the roof. “Be safe, brother. You need the cavalry, holler, this boy right here is in the mood to do a little ass-kickin’.”
“No fightin’ for you, cowboy,” Mel tossed out, yanking him back inside.
Royce backed out, shooting me a glance of warning while Rhys’ razzing voice still carried to my ears. “No fightin’. No lovin’. No drinkin’. What good are you? That’s it. You’re fired.”
“You wish, cowboy. This band would fall apart without me,” Mel punted back.
“Cowboy? How many times do I have to tell you, darlin’? It’s stallion, baby. Stallion.”
“That’s it, you’re walkin’ home. Royce, toss his ass out right here. I can’t take another minute.”
It was still a tumble of teasing controversy as the car shifted into drive, and I stood there watching until they made it to the end of the long drive and turned left onto the two-lane road.
Second the silence hit, my attention scanned, searching the shadows.
Watching.
Waiting.
Hands itching with the thirst for revenge. To expose it all. Right then and there.
When nothing moved but the leaves on the rustling trees, I blew out a sigh and headed back inside the quiet house.
Most of the lights had been cut. Mr. Marin had turned in about an hour before, curling up at his wife’s side.
I sent up a silent promise that I wouldn’t fail them this time.
After I locked every lock on the door and rechecked to make sure they were secure, I moved through the living room and into the kitchen, dipping out onto the back porch, doing the same inspection as out front.
Silence echoed back.
Nerves on edge, I scanned one more time before I retreated back into the house and deadbolted the lock behind me.
Under the strain of it, I sank down onto a chair at the kitchen table and dropped my head into my hands, rubbing at my hair like it would conjure a solution.
A true way to fix this without breaking more in the end.
My chest tightened when I heard the delicate footsteps coming down the second set of stairs that led into the kitchen.
Could feel her presence rush me.
Violets and grace and the girl.
She stopped at the bottom of the steps, her face barely visible in the lapping, jumping shadows.
Energy surged.
Chills lifted.
A shaft of electricity struck in the air.
Slowly, I pushed to standing.
The atmosphere sizzled.
My breaths hardened while my heart careened out of control.
I moved her way.
A storm hovered over me.
Thunder and greed.
I felt her harsh inhalation, the girl sucking me down into the well of her lungs.
She stood at the foot of the staircase, wisps of black hair falling over her shoulders, those eyes strikes of lightning in the night.
Those plush lips parted, and her chin quivered.
Hand shaking, I reached up and traced the tremor. Like it might be possible to hold it in my hand.
“I’m scared, Richard. So scared.” Violet whispered the admission. Breaching the subject we’d been skirting all day.
Giving me her truth.
I cupped one side of her gorgeous face, thumb brushing across the defined angle of her trembling jaw. “I’m scared, too. Scared of what I’m willing to do to protect you.”
Her throat bobbed when she swallowed, and she lifted her hand, fingertips grazing the healing wound between my eyes.
A silent confession zinged between us.
Acknowledgement that none of this had been random.
She blinked up at me, and her tongue darted out to wet those full, pink lips. “I didn’t see anything, Richard. But I heard. My mama always taught me to listen with my heart…and I heard it, Richard. I heard the wickedness. I heard the evil. He said…”
I inched forward. Possession gripping me in its storm. I tipped up her chin, staring down at her through the dim, bleary light.
“What did he say?”
She choked, barely able to press out the words, “He said not to go diggin’ up graves. That I’d never know when I might fall in.”
What the fuck?
I’d expected some veiled warning for me.
Panic seized me. My chest constricted in a bluster of rage. Tongue the lash of a blade. “What graves? What the fuck was he saying? Who?”
Her head shook, her own panic vibrating through her being, and she was clutching me by the shirt.