“I’m just so terribly sorry,” Julia finally finished, her voice thick with sincerity.
Water welled in Sabrina’s eyes, but she dashed her tears away with the back of her hand. “Just help us find whoever set up my brother and Knox. Help us put the bastard behind bars.”
Julia gave a determined dip of her chin. “I don’t care for plenty of things. Orange marmalade, the month of March, and going to the dentist to name a few. But there’s one thing I absolutely hate. And that’s a traitor.” Her jaw hardened. “I won’t stop until the person behind this is held accountable.”
Britt smiled as he crossed his arms over his chest. Like whiskey in a teacup, Julia O’Toole was as pretty as a picture on the outside but tough and take-no-prisoners on the inside.
“How did Keplar approach you?” Julia turned to Knox. “To be his asset, I mean. How did he convince you to gather evidence against the cartel?”
Knox sat in the overstuffed armchair in the corner. Julia’s question had him running knobby-knuckled fingers through his hair. The gesture made the cowlick they’d both inherited from their father stand up straight.
“The cartel’s main lieutenant, the second highest-ranking member of the gang, was in the cell next to us. Cooper and I were chummy with the guy.” He glanced around the room and grimaced at the idea of admitting he’d happily rubbed elbows with a man who’d undoubtedly left a trail of death and destruction in his wake. “You get to know your neighbors in prison,” he said by way of explanation, his tone apologetic. “And having them as friends rather than enemies is preferred.”
“No one here will judge you for what you had to do to stay alive in prison,” Britt assured him quietly.
Knox met his eyes. Britt made sure the truth of his heart was reflected in his unwavering gaze.
He was sad about Knox's path and choices. He felt guilty for being the reason Knox had taken that path and made those choices. But he had never, not once, been mad at Knox. And he had never, not once, judged his brother.
There but for the grace of God go I…
It was something their father had liked to say.
Britt remembered well the time he and his father walked through White Point Garden when he’d been…what? Five? Maybe six years old? They’d stumbled across a man abandoned by all that was good and true. The poor soul had been crumbled at the foot of an old Civil War-era canon, his body slack, his face angled downward and obscured beneath a scraggly beard.
Britt recalled the sallowness of the man’s skin. Recalled the way the man’s clothes, stiff and tattered, had clung to his thin frame with a reluctant grip.
He hadn’t known what it was at the time; he’d been too young. But as an adult, he knew that what he’d smelled that day was the acrid scent of liquor, so much booze it’d stung his nostrils. And yet even that had been overpowered by the tang of unwashed flesh, stale urine, and disease.
When he closed his eyes, he could still see the man’s hands, so weathered and creased. They had been on the ground, palms upturned in a gesture that had seemed to ask for nothing and that had expected even less.
“Ew.”He’d tugged on his father's hand and pointed.“He’s yucky, Daddy.”
“No, son,”his father had countered.“There but for the grace of God go I.”
When Britt had asked his father to explain, his dad had squatted until they were at eye level. Then his father had told Britt that sometimes terrible things happened to good people, and sometimes when those terrible things happened to good people, those good people had no one to help them.
“When your mother died, I wanted to crawl into a bottle of alcohol and never come out,”his father had said.“But I had you to take care of. I had your brother. And when I was drowning my sorrows with poison, I had friends who picked me up and dried me out and took me to meetings that made me see what I had to live for.”
His father had gestured toward the man slumped against the cannon.“Don’t ever judge people who are struggling and suffering, son. Those people were children once, too. They were someone’s sons or daughters. They arestillthe sons and daughters of society, and it’s only through the luck of the draw that weallaren’t here sprawled against the foot of a monument. Don’t judge people because you have no idea what battles they’ve faced, what private losses they’ve suffered, what unseen enemies they’ve fought. Don’t judge this man because you have no idea what has brought him to this place of silence and cold metal, a place no one would ever want to call home.”
And then Britt had gone with his father to the closest convenience store, where they had purchased a sandwich, a bag of chips, and a cold Coke. And he had looked upon that man with no judgment when they delivered the meal. Instead, he’d only looked with a sense of sadness that had weighed more heavily upon his young chest than the lead cannon balls stacked next to the monument.
Somehow, he must have conveyed all this with a look because Knox’s shoulders relaxed. The shadow that had fallen across his brother’s face vanished.
“Keplar promised us an early release and witness protection after the job was done, a sweet setup in some far-flung locale with babes in bikinis and all the umbrella drinks we could stomach. All we had to do was secure a spot inside the lieutenant’s organization and then gather the evidence Keplar needed to bring the whole kit and caboodle down. So Cooper and I got even chummier with Ricky—that’s the lieutenant’s name,” Knox clarified. “We convinced him we would be assets to the cartel if he’d put in a word of recommendation. And the rest, as they say, is history.”
Julia nodded. “I think I’m almost up to speed. But there’s one more thing I need to understand.”
“Shoot,” Knox said amiably, but Britt could see the exhaustion in his brother’s face. The long days, the death of his partner, and all the running and hiding were catching up with him. Knox needed sleep. Theyallneeded sleep. But first…Agent Julia O’Toole needed answers.
“How did the two of you get away?” She tilted her head between Knox and Sabrina. “You said three men burst into Mr. Greenlee’s house, bragging about how you and Cooper had been outed by someone inside the joint operation. And when they found Sabrina there visiting, they decided to put off executing the two of you so they could…” She swallowed convulsively. “Do what they did. So how did you get away?”
Knox and Sabrina exchanged a look.
It was another look Britt knew well. The look shared between two people who’d survived terrible trauma together. That look said,We know. We stand as witness. And now we must testify.
Britt curled his fingers around the stone lip of the hearth, readying himself to hear the part of the story Knox and Sabrina had glossed over during the original telling. The Black Knights had been so focused on the next steps that no one had thought to ask about the initial step that had saved Knox and Sabrina’s lives.
