If my mom knew what Lynx did to my father, it would break her heart. If she knew what he did to me, he’d already be dead.
For her sake, I rock forward more.
Lynx steps back.
One more step and his ass will be on the grill of the Range, and it won’t take much to trap him there. Squeeze the fucking life out of him. I wouldn’t mind seeing his intestines come up through his mouth.
He doesn’t show a hint of remorse, and he doesn’t move sideways, out of the way, even though we both know he could.
Bravery in his shade gets you killed.
And I want him fucking dead.
I think about how good it would feel to throw those coffin nails on his corpse, his body pinned to his own car.
And imagining that, I think of Sloane, and his hands on her, watching her break the way he watched me and before then, in another life, my dad. He holds something over my family that I haven’t quite figured out yet, but he doesn’t have anything on me.
If he ever evenlookedsideways at Sloane, I’d pull his spine from his fucking back.
But I could stop it now. Make sure it never happens to her.
She’s precious. She deserves good things. And it washimon her doorstep with those fucking coffin nails. It had to be. Why else would I find him here right now? Same area the texts are from?
I snatch up the gun, put the Jeep in park, and rip open my door. The rain thunders down on me, drenching my hair, causing it to stick to my temples. I don’t bother closing the door behind me. I hold the gun up, elbow bent, and I stalk toward Lynx, still between both our vehicles. When I’m a foot away, by my driver’s side headlight, I stare down at him.
He quirks his lips side to side, and I know it’s his nervous tell even if other people don’t. For them, he puts on an excellent show. On Sundays, this man is in the front row at church. He’s donated to all kinds of charities in Virginia and probably here, in the Carolina mountains, too.
He’s the worst sort of trash, the type that pretends to be treasure.
I extend my arm, aiming the gun at his temple.
My shirt begins to cling to my body from the cold downpour and the gold chain around my neck feels heavy by my throat. I can feel every beat of my pulse from beneath it.
“Go on,” Lynx says, his voice loud in the storm. “Shoot, Storm.”
My finger is slippery on the trigger. I could call it self-defense, except for the fact I don’t live here and I can’t imagine he does either but he knows someone who owns the only house on this road, I’m sure of it. There’s also a chance he owns it himself despite his domination in VA, and that wouldn’t work in my favor. It would seem like I came to his doorstep looking for a fight. Besides, Lynx has money. It probably rivals my family’s, and they’ve already gotten me out of trouble once with that shit with Remi.
A murder charge for one of the most well-connected men on this side of the Mississippi might stretch their lawyers and their resources too thin.
But a man like Lynx Flynn doesn’t deserve to live.
I don’t say anything. I just weigh the consequences.
On the plus side, I’ll get rid of a sack of shit if I kill him. On the other hand, I might serve the rest of my life behind bars.
I’m not so sure I’d mind, to be honest.
But then I think of Sloane with whipped cream on her nose and it tilts the scale in favor of living free.
Fuck.
Get out of my head, Sloane Stevens.
I don’t lower the gun but I exhale through my nose and I keep staring at Lynx. I don’t have to kill him, but I can scare him.
Without blinking or shifting my gaze, I quick-fast tilt the gun’s aim and fire off a shot. It cracks into his windshield.Spiders the glass, a bullseye around the center, faint lines spreading from it, right in the middle. It didn’t go clean through, but it’s enough damage he’ll have to replace the entire thing.
My ears ring from the shot and I almost laugh, seeing Lynx’s head turned toward his damaged Range Rover.
