With a sickeningjerk, he drags the blade deeper. Vanderberg groans through clenched teeth, the sound laced with agony.
Brooks keeps going, voice like fire. “You think you’re a god? Some untouchable bastard who gets to decide who lives and who dies?” Another savage twist of the blade. “Why the hell did you kill Hayes? That man wouldn’t have said a damn word. He followed the rules. But you killed him anyway.”
Another wrench of the knife, and Brooks has torn open most of his abdomen. Behind me, I hear shuffling and I turn to find Asher, frozen, biting down on his lip so hard it’s white, his eyes wide and fixed on Brooks.
Vanderberg tries to speak, but nothing comes out—just a sick, bubbling gurgle. Brooks leans in, voice shaking with fury. “You touched Connor. You laid your hands on Layne. Youdaredto go after my wife.” His voice cracks, then sharpens into a growl. “You talk aboutdeals?”
Brooks drives the knife higher, then plunges his hand into the open cavity of Vanderberg’s stomach. Blood squelches between his fingers. “My son will grow up without a mother—because ofyou. And I’m supposed to call it even because you had the decency toreturn her body?” He yanks his hand out, intestines following, slick and grotesque in the dim light.
“Don’t hold your breath,” Brooks mutters coldly.
And then, he straightens. Turns his back without sparing another look. Calm. Hollow.
“I hope youenjoywhatever’s left of your miserable life, asshole,” he says, and walks away.
Forty-Four
Sometimeduringthenight,Kyler slips next to me. His trembling fingers wander over my waist and he pulls me toward him. His entire body’s shaking.
I turn in his arms. “Hey,” I whisper, voice hoarse. “You okay?”
A smile spreads on his lips. “Hmhm. Just adrenaline leaving my body,” he mumbles and presses his lips to my mouth.
“What did you do?” I frown at him, but I can’t see his face clearly in the dark. It’s mostly his silhouette that’s lit up by the moon.
“He’s dead, Layne.” He buries his face in my shoulder.
“What are you talking about?” Who on earth is dead? What has he done?
“Vanderberg,” he says, and my whole body relaxes. “Brooks…” His voice trails off.
“I don’t think I want to know exactly what Brooks did, but it’s okay, Ky.” I breathe out deeply. “That he’s dead, I mean. And that Brooks did it.”
He presses his lips to mine and I open for him. Immediately, he deepens the kiss and moans. “Do you know how long I’ve dreamed of this?” he whispers against my mouth.
“Of what?” Killing Vanderberg? I pull back a little.
“Coming home to you. Snuggling up against your warm body, holding you in my arms.” He presses his nose into my shirt and slowly his breathing deepens. Until he falls asleep. I close my eyes and enjoy the feeling of having him in my arms.
“You ready, Shorts?” Kyler lingers awkwardly in the kitchen while Rebel calmly eats her bowl of cornflakes.
“For what?” she mumbles around a spoonful of cereal, glancing up at him with curious eyes.
Kyler rubs a hand down his face, a flicker of hesitation in his features. “Remember what I promised yesterday? That we’d do something special for your dad today? To say goodbye properly?”
My ears perk up. What promise? What plan? But the second Kyler finishes speaking, Rebel straightens up, eyes wide with anticipation.
“You did,” she says quietly, hope blooming on her face.
“I arranged something.” A small, proud smile tugs at his mouth.
“You arranged something?” I echo, narrowing my eyes at him.
He only nods in response.
Within minutes, Rebel’s scraped the last bite from her bowl, rinsed it, and slipped it into the dishwasher. “Can we go now? I even cleaned up.” She beams at me, those big brown eyes full of excitement. I glance at Kyler, completely in the dark here, but he gives a subtle nod. That’s all Rebel needs—she shoots off toward the hallway like a rocket.
“Easy, Shorts,” he calls after her with a chuckle, before turning to me. He lifts my chin with two fingers and looks into my eyes. “Can we take your car? I rode the bike last night.”
