“So, what’s the plan?” Onyx asks. “You gonna arrest him, or just keep watchin’ him until he manages to kill her?” Although he doesn’t raise his voice, there’s a sharpness in it.
Morgan doesn’t flinch. “We’ll do what we can. This helps us, but not enough yet.”
He nods once at me, then turns and heads back to his car. The brothers part for him without a word. Jasper watches him go, then lights a cigarette and says something to one of the prospects I can’t hear.
I turn to Onyx, remembering what he told me about the club having eyes on Brennan’s house. “Are you still watching his property?”
He shakes his head sadly. “No. Now you’re stayin’ the clubhouse we called it off. Damn it!”
The cold finally settles into my bones. I’m still standing in wet jeans. My jacket’s soaked through as well. I didn’t notice until now. I sink onto the edge of a stone step that’s somehow still solid. Onyx crouches next to me without saying anything. He’s quiet, like he’s plotting some kind of revenge that he’s not comfortable talking about yet. I’d be lying if I said that didn’t worry me.
Looking at the blackened doorway, the red streak on the wall behind the busted frame, I think about the first time my grandfather let me paint the front door myself. The color was too bright, and it clashed with everything, but he didn’t care.
There’s no fixing this. Even if the bones are still standing, the damage runs too deep. It’s all soaked through, charred, and unrecognizable.
Jasper’s talking with a few of them. Someone’s brought another pot of coffee from the clubhouse. It all happens just far enough away that I can’t hear what they’re saying.
I sit on a stump with the box I rescued on my knee. I turn the latch and open the lid. Everything I packed is still there, more or less. I’m thankful to at least have my birth certificate and other important documents.
Onyx squats down across from me, going through the rest of what we managed to grab before he dragged me out. My journal, some clothing, a tin box filled with all my tiny childhood toys that I vowed to keep forever, and a couple of framed photographs from the mantel. He just looks at each thing in turn, folds the wet clothing for me, and doesn’t say a thing. Having him close is making this whole situation bearable.
I reach for the photo. It’s of me and my grandfather. His arm is around my shoulder. The glass is smashed and the photograph wet from the attempts to put out the fire. My hand shakes as I set it aside to dry.
“I don’t think I can fix this,” I say quietly.
“I know,” he says. “And I’m sorry things had to be this way. I would’ve done anything to keep this from happening. We should have kept watch on that asshole.”
I look at the photo again. It’s starting to wrinkle as it dries. The edges are softening, and there’s a small burn mark near the top corner.
“Did you know my grandfather built this cabin with his own two hands?”
“Yeah, I did know that. My old man helped him build it back in the day. He said the two of them fought like cats and dogs about how to lay the foundation.”
I give him a tired smile. “My grandfather never told me those stories. But I was his only heir. That means the only thing of value he had to bequeath, he gave to me. This place, this land, this house was mine. And now it’s gone. What’s left fits in a bag.”
“I know what this place meant,” Onyx says quietly. “If you want me to build it back, I will, Em. We can make it look just the way it used to in honor of your grandfather.”
There is something so bittersweet about his offer. It makes me want to cry, rejoice, and maybe even consider it one day. But mostly, it makes me want to hug the guy who made the offer. So, I throw my arms around his neck and don’t let go for a nice long time.
Chapter 15
Onyx
As we walk up the path to the back gate, it’s early morning and the sun’s not all the way up yet. The clubhouse is quiet because everyone who wasn’t out trying to save my cabin last night is still sleeping. We grab a quick shower and climb into bed as well. I could easily go without sleeping, but I want to ensure Emily gets some sleep, so I crash out with her for a bit.
We get about three hours of sleep before Jasper sends word that Detective Morgan is on his way. I’m becoming less enamored of that fucker by the damn day. His job was to dig up actionable information on Brennan and make the charges stick. I don’t know what went wrong, but I’m eager to fucking find out.
Emily sits on an old couch in the bar area, clutching a cup of coffee. She hasn’t said much since last night. Frisky is sitting in her lap, making biscuits on her leg. I don’t know how she stands it. I adore that fuckin’ cat of hers, but that biscuit thing would drive me nuts.
I’m standing by the bar, forcing down my own cup of coffee. Jasper’s pacing slowly behind me. He fuckin’ hates waiting with the fire of a thousand suns. He keeps checking his phone. I can tell he’s trying to calm down. He’s just doing a shit job of it.
Morgan shows up just after eight. He’s wearing the same plain clothes he was wearing at Emily’s cabin earlier, along with the same flat expression. I try not to mean mug him when he walks past.
We go back to the meeting room. I bring Emily because she deserves to hear things that relate to her own safety. Morgan doesn’t waste time. The second the door shuts behind him, he starts talking.
“Brennan’s jumped bail entirely. We tracked his phone and found he ditched it along with his laptop and his vehicle in an industrial lot off the highway. He just disappeared off the face of the Earth.”
Emily’s eyes lift, and her lips press into a thin line. She doesn’t speak, but I know she wants to point out that he didn’t disappear. He came and burned her house to the ground.
