And if Rees laid a single hand on her, there wouldn’t be a courtroom in the world big enough to contain what I’d do next.
I printed photos from Rees’s file and scanned every inch of his tattoos. A snake slithered up his left forearm, a trio of demons clawing out of his other one. No clear Pagan or Wiccan ties, though the collar tattoo under his eye backed my guess he’d joined “The Collars” inside. No signs he’dtaken an interest in art, history, religion—or cursed scrolls. The warden said Rees spent his time lifting weights and fighting, nothing more.
Aside from a few visits from a shady lawyer named “Stilts,” Rees hadn’t had a single visitor during his sentence—not even Sunny. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. I didn’t want to know how my body would react if she’d gone to see him.
I’d already called Darby and told him to find Rees, whatever it took. I also pulled in the big guns—the Steele brothers from Steele Shadows Security. We’d all run ops together back in the day. They were family. Ruthless, well-funded family.
Gunner would hit the dealerships near the prison and ask about any blue sedans sold recently. Axel and Max Blackwell were tracking Rees’s last known cell. Gage—true to form—was already hitting the ground, old-school style.
I’d called Rees’s parole officer three times. No answer. No surprise. Those check-ins were a joke. I’d also left messages for Briana Morgan and called her firm, Harold and Associates, to confirm she was actually investigating the scroll heist. Still nothing. I didn’t know why she was dodging me, but I planned to find out.
First, though—I had to check on Sunny.
31
JAGG
It was just past nine o’clock in the evening when I turned onto county road 3228. A pair of glowing taillights in the distance caught my attention. The vehicle appeared to be stopped, halfway in the ditch. Considering only Sunny lived down that road, the stranded motorist was either her, Kenzo Rees himself, or someone looking for her.
I lowered my right hand to my holster, wanting nothing more than to come face to face with the gang-banging bastard sitting behind the steering wheel of a blue sedan.
My headlights bounced off the bumper of a 1972 Chevy.
I rolled to a stop and climbed out of my Jeep, my headlights illuminating Sunny, and all her wild hair, twisting her neck to see who was coming. She was flat on her back, half her body under the front of her truck, her head next to a flat tire.
I walked up, glanced at the tire, then took a moment to soak in the view. Wearing a pair of cut-off jean shorts and a V-neck T-shirt that readGirl Power,Sunny avoided eye contact and continued doing whatever she was doing—correction:trying to do.She had a flashlight propped on arock, illuminating under the truck. Her hair was a frizzed mess around her head, speckled with grass and dead leaves. I was pretty sure something was crawling in it, but considering I could practicallyfeelher vile mood, I decided to keep that to myself. A smattering of dirt stuck to her sweaty forehead, making me wonder how long she’d been stranded. Regardless, one thing was obvious, Sunny Harper had absolutely no clue what she was doing. I’d be amused if not for the fact that I was angry that she obviously hadn’t stayed at home as I’d instructed her the evening before.
Anger aside, something about seeing such a strong woman vulnerable did it for me—along with everything else that was Sunny.
“What seems to be the problem here, Miss Harper?” I said, a tug playing on the corner of my lips.
I could feel her eye roll more than I could see it.
“Oh, you know, just decided to have a quick looksee under my truck.” She huffed out a breath. “I’m trying to change my damn tire.Obviously.”
“Are you? Because by the looks of it, you’re trying to change the axle.”
Her body stilled.
A moment ticked by and I would have paid my next paycheck to see the expression on her face.
“What were you doing leaving your house?” I demanded.
“Getting a salad.”
“I told you not to go out. Where did you go?”
“Gino’s.”
I grit my teeth and shook my head. Right in the middle of town. The woman didn’t listen and was going to get herself hurt.Again.
“Three things, Sunny,” I growled. “Three things I havean issue with right now. One, who leaves their house for asalad?Two, I told you to stay out of public and away from people until everything blows over, and on top of that, the doctor told you to be resting. And three, how is that screwdriver in your hand going to help you change your damn tire?”
She looked at the screwdriver, a second passed, then released a hefty sigh. She set the tool on the ground, craned her neck to get a better view of me and met my gaze with a fire of her own.
“One, have you ever had Gino’s Flaming Farro salad? It’s Italian perfection. Artichokes, peppers, onions, cherry tomatoes, cucumbers over a bed of farro—a gluten free Italian grain for your information, because I’m assuming your fridge holds nothing more than boxes of bacon and cases of beer. PBR if I had to guess…”
Ouch.
