Her breath came faster. “Push up the sleeve on your right arm.”
“Why? Because you want definite proof that I’m the monster who ripped your world apart?” Bayne demanded.
Yes.
But…
Footsteps. Slow. And…a tapping. Slow, dragging steps and then a tap…
The second door on the back of the van was opened.
A man stood there, one hand gripping a black cane. Tall, but with his shoulders hunched forward just a bit. A hard face. Handsome but brutally cold. A face that looked far too much like an older version of Cass’s face.
Gray streaks drifted through the man’s dark hair. Lines darted from the corners of his eyes. And cold, hard fury showed on his face. “I’m that monster, sweetheart,” the man told her. “I’m the one who gave the orders for the attack that night. Bayne wanted to play my game. Had to, after my other partner was eliminated.”
Cass sucked in a breath. “You should be dead.”
“Yes, well, for a while, felt like I was. Had to teach myself how to walk again after that shit you pulled. Shooting a man in the back…that’s a real coward move.”
“You were riding away. You were going over the edge of that cliff. You should be dead.”
The man—Winston Striker—smiled. “And yet, here we are.” One hand gripped the edge of his cane. The other reached inside his coat and pulled out a gun. He pointed the weapon straight at Agnes. “I’m assuming the driver is one of yours? When I saw him on the security feed, I knew he didn’t look like my talented tattoo artist.”
“You assume correctly,” Nash snarled. He wasn’t in the driver’s seat any longer. He was about two feet away, with his weapon pointed right at Winston. “Lower the gun,” Nash ordered. “You are not killing my sister.”
“Of course, I am. She’s been on my kill list for years. Bayne should have eliminated her that night in Texas. I’d killed my redhead, and it was his turn. He wanted in the game, wanted to take my brother’s place after Cass eliminated his own father.”
Wait, wait, wait. He was saying that Cass’s father had been in on the killings? And that Bayne had come after Agnes because Winston had already murdered a redhead before Bayne had targeted her? Agnes slanted a quick, worried glance at Cass. The only emotion showing on his face was fury. Blazing fury.
“How many times do I have to say…” Bayne rasped. “I thought she was going to die?”
“The game isn’t about what you think will happen,” Winston fired right back. “It’s about getting the job done.”
What a sick, twisted bastard. “You’re seriously saying this was all just a game to you? You picked different people, then got matches for them?—”
“They’re called twins, FBI Agent Quinn. Our victims needed to be perfect matches. Fit with the theme, you know.” Winston’s lips thinned.
“Your theme. Right. The stupid two-headed cobra.” Bayne hadn’t showed her his right arm. Not yet. Her heart drummed in her chest. “Lift up your sleeve!”
Bayne shoved up his right sleeve.
And it was there. Right there. The tattoo that had haunted her nightmares for years. The exact same mark. The exact same design. The swirling snake that had come for her and destroyed so much on that one brutal night.
“Your boyfriend bled out much faster than I thought he would,” Bayne admitted with zero remorse. “He was purely for bonus points, you get that. You were the main goal. A redhead. Any redhead would have worked that night. But then I saw you. A redhead with blue eyes. A rare combination. Kinda like finding a four-leaf clover.”
Fuck yourself and your four-leaf clover. “You just picked people because of how they looked? Their hair color? Their eyes? Their?—”
“No, FBI Agent Quinn,” Winston cut in. “We killed people because of how they looked. It’s called having a target. Succeeding in your mission.”
“You didn’t succeed with me.” She was worried because Cass had gone so eerily silent. Silent, but she could feel his rage thickening in the air around them.
“I’m about to succeed,” Bayne promised. “This has been a very long time coming.”
“Why?” Agnes snapped. “Why has it been so long? Why didn’t you come for me sooner? If you wanted me dead, I was there all along.” She’d wanted the bastard to come for her so that she could destroy him. Her fingers were so tight around the gun she had hidden in her sling.
Bayne laughed. “Not like you’re the only one I had to kill. You had to wait your turn.”
Sick bastard?—
