“You make one more move like that and I’ll bleed you out real slow.”
“What? Too personal?” Trevor asks, but his teeth chatter.
“Sheriff McCoy. What’s his role in all of this?”
My stomach rolls as my father’s image invades my mind.
“What’s in it for me?”
“That remains to be seen,” Ryker replies, that dead calm, cold tone that should terrify Trevor.
“How about we talk about you.” Trevor hums under his breath. “Say something again.”
“You’re wasting time you don’t have.”
Trevor zeroes in. “I know that voice. I know exactly what I’m hearing.”
Ryker stands up, looming over Trevor with the knife fisted tight. “Answer the question. Sheriff McCoy. What’s his role?”
“Do they know?” Trevor asks.
Nobody answers.
“Does your girl know?”
What is going on? I go completely still.
Then Trevor slowly grins. “You’ve got a brother, don’t you?”
My breath catches.
No one speaks.
On the screen, one of the masked men takes a step toward Trevor, but Ryker says, “Hold.”
Trevor’s head tilts. His smile grows in his battered face. “Yeah, you do.”
The room around me seems to sharpen and blur at the same time. My heart beats harder, not because I understand what Trevor means, but because of what I don’t understand. Where is he going with this?
Trevor exhales through his nose. “Same build,” he says. “Same voice.”
One of the guards grabs the front of Trevor’s shirt. “Name him.”
Trevor winces, but he’s too pleased with himself now to care.
“Can’t say I know the name. Never met him proper.” His gaze shifts toward wherever Ryker is standing. “But your people ought to worry less about me and more about what kind of blood you’re running around with.”
I’m clutching my chest again, the pulse in my ears loud.
The man holding Trevor slams him back into the support post. Trevor grunts.
Ryker’s voice comes through again, dangerously calm. “Alright. You want to talk? Talk.”
Trevor’s eyes half close. “You seemed familiar but something was missing. The neck tattoo.”
“How do you know him?” One of the guards asks.
Trevor laughs again, and this time there is real malice threaded through it. “Now that sounds like a family problem.”
