Page 83 of The Bad Brother
I wouldn’t put it past Ethan.
Killing Orton Redford wouldn’t even be the worst thing he’s ever done.
“Dead?” Knowing exactly where I’m going, Colt shakes his head. “No—but he’s not okay either.” Slowing the truck to a stop, Colt shifts into park and kills the engine before looking at me. “He’s in bad shape, Jen—really bad shape. He’s got some pretty bad burns on his arms like he was trying to put out the fire when he was attacked. Whoever it was that went after your truck stabbed him enough times to make it pretty clear they were aiming to kill him for his trouble. Reese and Billy are with him now. They’re trying to stabilize him enough for surgery.”
Reese, Colt’s deputy—the one who busted Ethan’s dickhead friends for drunk driving a few weeks ago, on their way back over the bridge—is Red’s daughter.
“Look—” Colt shakes his head because he’s looking right at me. Can see the look on my face. Knows what I’m thinking. “I need you to let me do my job.” That’s why I’mhere. Because he knows me. What I would’ve done if I’d found out what happened without a babysitter. “Whoever did this?—”
“Ethan.” I say my brother’s name out loud. What we’re both thinking. What we both know for a fact but can’t prove. “It was Ethan.”
MY PAGER GOES OFF, THE LOUD,frantic beep of it pulling me out of sleep in an instant.
Eyes flying open on an immediate hit of adrenalin, I look over to Jensen’s side of the bed.
He’s gone.
So is his phone.
Puzzled and maybe a little hurt, I look at my nightstand.
No water glass full of wildflowers.
No note.
You don’t have time for this, Sloane.
Get your head in the game.
Right.
Snatching my pager off the nightstand, I get my second hit of adrenaline forthe day.
BLUE TEAM
That’s me.
Throwing the covers back, I jump out of bed and hit the ground running. No time for a shower, I throw on a pair of leggings and a T-shirt—something easy to take off in a hurry—and shove my feet into a pair of sneakers, clutching a pair of socks in my hand as I fly down the stairs. Gathering my bag and my car keys, I stop long enough to make sure I have my cell phone before I head for the door.
Sure that Jensen is downstairs and that I can shout a quick goodbye on my way out, I throw my front door open to find Cade leaning against the wall, next to Jensen’s front door. When he hears me his head pops up, showing me a very different version of the perpetually smirking Cade I’ve come to know.
This Cade is grim.
Tired.
And he has a baseball bat.
Seeing this version of him stops me in my tracks.
Because this is a version I’ve never met.
This is the Cade that went to prison for murder.
“What are you doing here?” My gaze instantly flies to Jensen’s front door. It’s closed tight. “Where’s Jensen?”
“With my brother, taking care of something,” Cade answers me evasively. “Where are you going?”
“To the hospital,” I tell him, holding up the pager in my hand as proof before I move through the door and turn to close it behind me. “Tell Jen?—"
