They all ran out into the silent night after Nari promised everyone she’d text with updates on Trudy.
Jethro reached his truck, nodded at a serious Wolfe, and then barreled away from the hospital. How screwed up was his brother that he’d quite possibly poisoned several children just to force Jethro and Gemma into a vulnerable position? There would be no taking Fletcher in this time when Jethro found him.
He drove at frantic speeds across icy roads, sliding several times and nearly taking out more than one power pole. The closer he drew to his burned-out apartment, the more he felt his brother.
Wouldhe be too late?
Jethro parked outside the chain-link fence and climbed over, approaching from behind the building. He angled around the side to avoid the debris from the fire, rapidly maneuvering toward the only accessible door.
Awoman screamed.
Hisheart stopped.
Gemma. Falling back on training, he twisted the knob and stepped inside what used to be his garage. An old brown van had been parked sideways, and he let it cover him as he trod silently toward it, moving around the side just in time to see Fletcher plunge a knife into Gemma’s side.
Roaring, Jethro rushed toward Fletcher, his hands already up.
Fletcher turned, surprise on his face, and slashed toward him with the bloody blade.
The knife cut into Jethro’s arm, but he didn’t feel a thing. Fury and something else, somethingprimal, roared through him. He charged his brother, lifting him and bashing him against the metal wall. Fletcher grunted and brought the hilt of the knife down on Jethro’s shoulder, fracturinghis clavicle.
There was no pain.
Jethro dropped and punched Fletcher hard enough to hear his jaw crack. Fletcher hit back in a flurry of fists, adding his knees to maximize the damage. He got in several cuts with the knife, one into Jethro’s hip. His brother had always loved a knife. Jethro grunted with the hits, acknowledged the pain, and sent it spiraling away. Then Fletcher caught him with a punch to the gut and Jethro bent over as Fletcher kicked him beneath the chin.
Jethro fell back, his shoulders on the cement, and barreled over to roll to his feet. He stopped Fletcher’s advance with the weapon by kicking him in the nuts.
Fletcher backed away, his eyes wide and his cheeks puffed out.
Jethro tried to determine Gemma’s status, but she lay on her side, blood seeping from her sweater to the ground. “Leave now, Fletcher. Let’s do this another day.”
Fletcher inched to the side, his body between Jethro and Gemma. “No. Maybe I had the wrong idea last time, and this is what makes it perfect. You weren’t there. Perhaps you should’ve been there and we could’ve watched Mother die together.” He tossed the knife to his other hand. “Yeah. Perfect.”
Jethro’s temper blew. He had to get to Gemma and cover that wound. “Leave now, Fletcher. Or I am going to bloody kill you.” He edged to the side, trying to see her, but Fletcher kept pace with him, a maniacal smile on his familiar face. “Get out of my way,” Jethro yelled, darting forward only to have Fletcher pivot with the knife and cut himacross the arm.
Blood spurted from Jethro and he shook out his hand, making sure it still functioned. “What the bloody hell is wrong with you?” he bellowed, furious and shocked. The hurt still dug deep at his brother’s betrayal, tormenting every nerve he had.
Fletcher chuckled and wiped blood off his face. “You’re looking in a mirror, Brother.” His knife hand stayed loose and ready to strike.
“No,” Jethro said, not even realizing he’d kept a slight hope that he’d be able to save Fletcher. It was too late. He also couldn’t let Fletcher drag this on any longer while Gemma bled out. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.”
Fletcher paused. “Oh, this is going to help me plenty.” He glanced at blood on the cement near his foot. “She’s going to die the way Mother should have, Jet.”
Gemma stirred. “Jethro?”
“No,” Fletcher screamed. “She needs to be out.To be silent!”
Jethro lunged just as Fletcher shot forward with the knife. Jethro dodged to the side, kicking at Fletcher’s wrist. The knife flew up. In one smooth motion, Jethro regained his footing, snatched the blade out of the air, and flipped it around in his hand. Without pausing, he struck.
The blade slid into Fletcher’s body as if it had been forged to do just that.
Jethro stabbed up beneath the breastbone several times, yanked the knife out, and shoved it full force through his brother’s throat as he gasped hislast breaths.
Fletcher hadn’t hit the floor before Jethro was skidding on his knees across the bloody concrete to reach his woman.
“Gemma?” Jethro gingerly turned her over, his breath returning on a sharp gasp. “How bad?” Her white sweater was red on one side, fully saturated with blood.
Her head lolled onher shoulders.
