“Who the fuck did then? Who’s messing with you?”
“I don’t know. We’re trying to figure that out.”
“You and Landon. That’s why he’s staying nearby.” It’s not a question, but she’s clearly waiting for an answer.
I run my hand over my face, trying to find the words to explain.
“Fuck this,” she snaps, and jerks her closet door open. She grabs a bag and starts packing her clothes. “I’m leaving.”
“You can’t?—”
Wrong thing to say. “Don’t fucking tell me what I can do!” she shouts. “You’re not my goddamn boss. Clearly, you’ve decided it’s none of my business. Fine. But I’m not getting caught in the middle of something when I don’t even know what it is.”
“Stop it!” I grab her wrist as she’s shoving more clothes into her bag and for a moment I wonder if I’m the next one she’s going to swing on. That glint in her eye says she’s thinking about it. Lowering my voice, I look her in the eye. “I’ll tell you everything. It’s a long story and not a fuckingeasy one, okay? Give me a second to think.” My chest expands with a sigh. “And get a drink.”
After a moment of consideration, she nods, and I let go of her. “Make us both one. I’ll get dressed.”
I can’t see a way to explain things without revealing why they’re targeting me in the first place. Which means telling her I’m a murderer, a former vigilante who got my wife killed. She’s never going to look at me the same.
CHAPTER 17
SILVER
This day has been a rollercoaster,and I have a suspicion that the biggest drop is still to come. I’m not sure how to feel. I was feeling good and optimistic about Grady’s response to my demands, and ridiculously happy with what I thought was Lee’s gift. I couldn’t wait for him to get home and see me wearing it. Disappointment battles with anger now that I know it wasn’t from him. It was a weapon aimed at him. One that hit the mark.
As much as I need to know what’s going on, I’m half terrified of what Lee’s going to tell me. All I can think about as I change into some leggings and a sweatshirt is the horror in his expression when he saw me in his wife’s dress. His dead wife’s dress. God, no wonder.
He perches on the edge of the couch, a glass of bourbon in his hand. The bottle and another glass wait on the coffeetable. I grab a cold Coke from the fridge and take a seat in the chair across from him. Neither of us speak while I mix my drink and sit back.
His dark eyes land on mine. “I would never hurt you.”
His vehement statement catches me off guard. “I know that.”
He runs a hand over his beard. “Just remember it.”
“Lee, whatever it is, you can tell me. It’s okay.”
He spits out the words like they taste bad. “Someone started texting me about Isla, anonymously. Messages that claim to know where she is. Landon is a hacker who’s been helping me try to figure out who it is. We haven’t had any luck so far.”
“Where she is?” I ask softly. “I thought she was killed years ago. Are you telling me she’s alive?” Celia said there was no death certificate. Shit, was she right?
“No.” He shakes his head emphatically. “She’s not alive, but her body was never found. They’re claiming they can tell me where her remains are.” He swallows the rest of his drink and looks at me. “But they want me to kill someone in return.”
Oh fuck. So many questions slam into my brain at once that it takes me a moment to choose. “Why…why would they think you’d be willing to kill someone?”
He scrutinizes my face as he replies. “Because it wouldn’t be the first time.”
My stomach hits the floor. This is why he assured me he’d never hurt me, because I’m learning what he’s done, whathe’s capable of. He must’ve killed the man who murdered his wife. “Lacey told me the man who killed Isla was never caught. That he’s still missing.”
“He’s not missing but he’ll never be found.”
I take a big swallow of my own drink. He stares at me, his eyes pleading with me not to run away while I let the information sink in. I’m sure he expects me to be shocked, but that’s not how I feel. Anyone can kill if they’re put in a situation where they’re pushed too far, in self-defense, in rage, or for justice. “You killed your wife’s murderer. Did you really think I’d be afraid of you because of that? Or that I’d even disapprove?”
“I don’t know,” he confesses.
“I’m not afraid of you. I’m only glad you didn’t get caught.” There’s so much I don’t understand. “So, you knew who killed her, and then found them before the cops could? But that doesn’t mean you’d kill for some anonymous asshole. Why would they assume that you’d do that, even to find her remains? And who do they want you to kill?” All the questions in my head stream out.
He refills his drink and sits back. “When Isla went missing, I knew it was my fault. I wasn’t sure who got to her, but I’d just retired from a network that hunted human traffickers. There are multiple organized groups of sex traffickers who sell women and children all across the US. A few underground groups exist who fight back against them to rescue victims and take out the perpetrators. I worked for one of those groups.” His gaze locks on mine. “As an exterminator.”
