When I pull out my phone and see that only one person is free, a scowl forms on my face. “Did I do something to hurt you?” I hiss.
“Oh, look, Tavish said he’d meet you there,” Jackson says with a grin. It’s apparent he is feasting off my misery. I have never in my life tortured my husband, so why has he chosen to torture me? I definitely never pestered him, brought a fence home that reminds him of his past failure to climb, nor made him wear a Sasquatch outfit. And still… he does this to me?
“I’d rather someone shoot me,” I decide.
Jackson just smiles at me, far too thrilled by all of this.
I sigh, resigning to my fate, but only because I know that it’ll make my husband happiest if I take someone with me… even if that someone causes me distress. Honestly, I’m not worried about leaving them here. The house’s basement is impossible to get into, which is where the bedrooms are located. It was one of Lucas’s prized houses, which means it’s mine now, and the location is quite secluded so no one but us knows where it is.
I make them promise to stay downstairs with the door locked while I’m gone. And with that, I head out to our house. When I reach it, Tavish isn’t here yet, but I notice someone sitting on the front porch petting a dog.
Paranoia rushes through me, telling me to keep driving, but there’s absolutely no way I’m going to drive off and let someone kill Cayenne and Sarge when I can do something about it. I park the car out on the road and ready my weapons.
Well aware of my risk, I start toward my house, prepared to pull my gun if I need to.
“Good evening, Mr. Sandman,” that irritatingly melodious voice says from where the man sits on the porch, mask in place to hide his face from me. “I saw your sweet dogs about to breathe their last breaths and knew I had to swoop in and save them.”
Cayenne is curled up on his lap and is sleeping so soundly she hasn’t even noticed me. Sarge has, though, and he rushes over to me, waking Cayenne who leaps off the man’s lap and bolts over to me with all the body wiggles she can muster.
“Why the fuck are you at my house?” I ask, voice sharp. It’s not all that surprising he found it. Dropping my life as the Sandman and becoming a public face with our PI office meant that I couldn’t be surprised if people found out who I was.
But most have the respect to stay out of my life… or maybe they’re smart enough to.
Not this man. Not this person who seems annoyingly amused by all of this. “I told you. I saw your dogs running loose. I think someone broke into your home. I wonder if they were looking for something precious of yours to take or kill.”
“And whose fault do you think that is? You made it look like I killed Teo,” I snarl.
“Did I? I sure don’t remember doing that. Do you think it had anything to do with sticking your nose into the whole thing with Teo Barlow? I mean… you didn’t have to go at all, did you? Your precious ‘son’ was safe at home, and yet you still willingly went. And it was all for a woman you barely know… you might say otherwise, but youwantyour old life back, Sandman. I know you do. Is it that husband of yours who is holding you back? Refusing to let you spread your wings?”
I don’t like the way he implies that it’s Jackson’s fault. It makes me fear that he’ll go after Jackson to “free” me from these shackles he seems to think I wear. “It was my own choice to pull back. Now get away from my family?—”
“All I did was save your dogs,” he says.
The porch is mostly dark, though because of the streetlight that highlights where he’s sitting, I can see enough to make him out. And when he reaches out and picks something up, I already know what it is.
“I did this for you, but if you want me to let them kill your dogs next time, to follow your son, to hunt that husband of yours, I’ll gladly let them,” he says, throwing the body in my direction as he stands. The man is about my height, but a littlebroader in the shoulders. There’s little else I can tell from his attire.
It hits the floor of the porch and he sets a foot on top of it while he leans against the railing and looks down at me.
“Are you really going to let these parasites fuck with you? You’re so much better than them. You know you could destroy them all, so tell me, why are you holding back? Why are you risking the lives of the ones you love?”
I clench my fists. “I don’t know what your interest in me is about, but the man you killed tonight wouldn’t have even beenlookingfor me if it wasn’t for your fucking stunt killing Teo Barlow and his men. The dead man lying right there was hired to kill me because ofyouractions. What do you think killing him solves?”
“It tells them that you’re not someone to be fucked with,” he says.
“Oh? And you think that’s just the end of it? You think if I kill enough people, the sound of my name will make them run? Nah. The more I kill, the more they want to kill me. Is that your goal? To piss them off so they kill me?”
“You would never die that easily,” he replies, sounding gleeful about it. Like this whole thing is a game to him. “You are unstoppable. Your name sends fear rushing through these men. You’re the one who could take control?—”
“You have some fucked-up idea of who I am and who you want me to be. But let me explain this to you in some way you can understand: I am not going to return to my previous life.”
“We’ll see about that,” he says as he steps over the dead man and starts down the steps. “It’s amazing how just one single moment can send your entire life into a spiral.”
My hand wraps around my gun, fingers tightening over it. If I shoot him in the back of the head, I’ll be done with him. Can he truly be innocent if his focus is on destroying my life, onknocking it out of the control I’ve gained? He wants me to be the man I used to be—a man I will never be again.
But Jackson has taught me how to change. He’s told me time and time again that the only ones who deserve to die are the ones who hurt innocents. Not a single person this man has killed has been innocent so far. So am I letting him rile me up? I don’t know whether he actually framed me or Raul Barlow found out about me some other way.
He’s confident I won’t shoot him. And with that confidence, he gets into a gray four-door sedan with a license plate that I’m well aware will be fake, but I memorize it anyway.
