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“No. We were looking for evidence against her family.”

“Evidence?” Finn repeated in confusion. “What evidence?”

“Another long story.” Bryce waved a vague hand toward the rusty vehicle behind her. “Anyway, we managed to find what we were looking for, or least I guess it’s what we were looking for, and then someone snuck up and took shots at us.”

“What the hell?” With long strides, Finn was abruptly standing in front of her, his breath hissing between his clenched teeth as he caught sight of the blood splattered across her face and coating her neck. “You’re injured.”

“It’s a flesh wound,” she assured him, relieved he couldn’t see the egg-size lump on the back of her head. It was possible she was suffering from a concussion after being knocked out. A worry for later. “I’ll be fine.”

“Not if it gets infected,” he growled, his voice rough. As if he was angered by the thought she’d been hurt. “A one hundred percent likelihood if you don’t get it cleaned and stitched up. Immediately.”

“We find Livia and then I will happily get scrubbed and stitched.” She impulsively reached out to grab his hand. “She’s in danger, Finn. Someone wants her dead.”

Livia reluctantly dropped the gun and turned to face Adrian Benoit. He was wearing his usual black slacks and white shirt, but they were splattered with mud and torn in several places. There was even mud in his dark hair that was mussed from the wind, and specks sprinkled over his grim face.

She should have been shocked to see him standing in the doorway pointing a gun at her. This was a man she’d known her entire life. A man who pretended that she was a member of his family. And even if he’d never been affectionate, he hadn’t actively hated her. But she wasn’t shocked.

Instead, she was resigned.

She glanced toward Helene, who was cowering on the floor next to the bookshelves. Her head was bowed and her hair had fallen forward to hide her face, but any sympathy that Livia had felt was destroyed by her cowardly refusal to stand up to her family.

“Did you know he was out there shooting at me?”

“He told me I had to stop you from leaving if you returned to the Willows,” the woman whimpered. “I had no choice.”

Livia made a sound of disgust, turning back to her uncle. “I knew it was you out there. You were the one who shot Bryce. Where is she?”

“Dead.”

Horror exploded through Livia at the blunt revelation, along with an instinctive urge to launch herself toward the bastard and beat him bloody. If he’d truly killed Bryce, then …

No. Livia balled her hands into tight fists. This man had spent years weaving lies to protect the Benoit name. The disappearance of the chauffeur, her mother’s death, even the failing family business. She wasn’t sure he’d ever told the truth in his miserable life. She wasn’t going to let herself lose hope. Not until she could see Bryce with her own eyes.

Until then, it was her job to make sure that Adrian and Helene paid for their crimes.

“You’ve lost your mind,” she rasped. “Bryce is a deputy. You’re going to jail for this.”

“No one will find her. But don’t worry.” Adrian stepped forward, his expression grim. “You’ll soon be joining her.”

Livia tilted her chin, even as her stomach twisted with dread. She might have been able to overpower her aunt, but there was no way she could physically wrestle the gun away from Adrian. Not before he could shoot her.

Time for another distraction. She had to keep him talking long enough to get to the French doors. There was a tiny chance she could dart outside and make her escape before he could put a bullet through her heart.

“How did you know we were in the swamp?” She asked the question that had been troubling her since she realized they’d been followed.

Adrian shrugged. “I have a trail camera that alerts me if anyone is trespassing in that area. No one is supposed to be there. Especially you.” His jaw muscles bulged, as if he was clenching his teeth. “But you never listen, do you? Always poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Livia tossed her hair, folding her arms over her chest as she took a step backward.

“I’m not surprised you’re involved in this, Adrian. You were always Grandfather’s spineless toady.”

Surprisingly, he flushed at her accusation, as if she’d struck a nerve. “My only involvement is cleaning up other people’s messes. The story of my life.”

He sounded like a whiny brat, as if threatening his niece with a gun was just another annoying task.

“What did you do to my mother?” she abruptly demanded, inching another step back. If she was going to die, she could at least get some answers first.

Adrian frowned. “Nothing.”