None of us wants to answer. Jansen asks what we’re all wondering, though. “He won’t be able to get into the wedding, will he?”
I want to throw the damn card away, to pretend that it isn’t another threat. “No, he won’t. Not with the security they have.”
“Unless he’s someone’s plus one,” Walker says, contradicting me.
I huff out a breath and shove open the door to my room, pulling up the data for the second phone Jansen found as the other two drag their chairs up behind me. And I immediately wish I’d looked at this sooner.
There are pictures of Clara, of us, but most of all, there are pictures of someone who never should have been in the bastard’s sights.
Red hair pulled into a tight French braid, fierce with her mask under one arm.
Laughing, cuddled close to the asshole, looking at him like he’s a goddamn king.
Half-naked in the back seat of a car, the shot obviously taken without her knowing.
Videos that I don’t have the stomach to open.
Mattie. Picture after picture, video after video of Mattie.
“Oh God,” I mutter.
Walker tosses the card onto my desk. “Where is he?” His voice is calm, but it’s the kind of calm that makes the hair on the back of my neck raise.
“That dirty fucking nasty pedophiliac prince of jackass shit-stains,” Jansen bites out.
I spin slowly to look at him, knowing that he’s not much for cursing. Walker does the same.
“What? That’s exactly what he is. That and more,” he states.
I turn back to my screen, my hands in fists. Jansen cursing isn’t what’s important right now. “Field trip?” I ask, knowing without checking the Airtags we planted exactly where that monster is right now.
The other two nod, and two minutes later, we’re in Walker’s SUV on our way to the fencing gym.
Chapter 43
Walker
I’m not generally an angry guy. But there’s something about a creep who keeps popping up like a supervirus, infecting everything and everyone he touches, that makes rage burn deep in my gut.
Bryce is a disease. And it’s time we killed him off. Maybe even literally, as the cops won’t do anything about it.
RJ snags my jacket sleeve when we get to the gym, holding me back. “Take photos. We can give them to Reed.”
“And then what? They give him a slap on the wrist like last time?”
Jansen paces beside us. “If that even. We need todosomething about him.”
“I agree,” RJ and I both say, the three of us sharing a look in the snowy, mucky parking lot.
“Trips is on board,” RJ adds. “The only one I don’t know about is Clara.”
“The letter said she didn’t want him to be an unwilling liver donor,” I say.
“Yeah, but she didn’t know he’s gone after Mattie,” RJ points out.
Jansen bounces on his toes. “So, we add him to the list. And take photos for the cops. And maybe somehow let the evil father know that his baby girl is in danger. Basically, we need to cover all our bases to get him out of the picture. It’s time for him to get the hell out of our lives.”
RJ sighs, running a hand over his face. “Which of us do you think can get in and out without him seeing us? We don’t want to spook him. If he runs, we all know he’s coming back, we just can’t guess when. And that’s not gone.”
