“I didn’t ask for proof, honey. I asked what you did.”
“You can’t accuse her of anything,” Avery protested.
“I certainly can.” Jenkins leaned forward, his gaze intent. “I accuse you both.”
“Of what?” Avery snapped.
“Of being shifters.”
I froze. I dared not look at Avery, dared not look away from Jenkins. I swallowed, hating myself for showing that much weakness.
“Shifters?” Avery asked, his tone deadly.
“Dragons.” Jenkins sat back, his fingers tapping once again. “Fess up. You both are dragons, and you killed Carter, then burned his corpse. Don’t play innocent with me, children.”
Jenkins’s shape suddenly blurred. Reptilian eyes gleamed from a dragon’s face, a muzzle filled with sharp teeth. A split second later, Jenkins, in his human form, grinned.
“How’d you know?” Avery asked, his tone awed.
“Come on,” Jenkins snapped, impatient. “You kids may be blind, but I know a fellow dragon when I see one. Let’s stop the games. Who killed Carter?”
“I did,” I replied. “It was part self-defense, part challenge. I dropped him into a canyon in the mountains, then burned his body.”
Jenkins slapped the table with his open palm. “Now that’s all I needed to know. Why’d you make it so difficult?”
“Because you’re a cop?” I answered, shrugging. “You’ll want to toss my ass in jail?”
He snorted. “What jail can hold a dragon? No, honey. Your brother was an honest to goodness bad guy, and the world is better off without him. And you got your revenge? Yes? For your old man’s death?”
“I did indeed.”
“That’s what matters.”
Avery looked long at me, then at Jenkins. “You’re not going to arrest her?”
“Do I want Jacy dropping me into a canyon and burning my body? No thanks. My report will say I’ve no idea where Carter went and demand the feds find him.” He smirked. “I’m just a small-town cop, what do I know?”
I burst into laughter as Avery grinned and shook his head. “Ignorance is bliss.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Jenkins lifted his coffee cup with a wink.
The doorbell rang. Max went off in a torrent of barking.
I looked at Avery, who glanced at Jenkins with his brows up. “Expecting someone?”
“Not me,” Jenkins replied, sipping his coffee.
“At least it isn’t Carter,” Avery said, standing.
I followed him into the TV room in time to see Declan, Max barking up a storm, beside him, charging for the door. My first instinct was to yell,don’t open it!
The new lock broke just before he reached it.
As though in slow motion, history repeated itself. A man, armed with a gun, kicked the door open and stepped inside. For a moment, I swore I saw Carter, his mocking grin in place, lift the weapon and aim it at me.
The man wasn’t Carter.
He was Ian.
