Hayden and Tristan creep toward the wreckage with their guns drawn.
“How the fuck do you have a Bentley and live in a shithole like this place?” Hayden, always asking the important questions.
“He’s the only one in the vehicle,” Tristan calls out. “He has a gun in his lap. Could have been the one who shot Fairbanks.”
I nod, leaning down to kiss Lilac’s temple. She’s shaking. Her breathing’s all off again.
I whisper something soft against her hair, something just for her. And when I feel her nod against my chest, I force myself to set her down next to Madison and Winter.
“Stay right here,” I murmur, cupping her face, pressing a kiss to her lips. “You don’t move unless Tristan tells you to. Got it?”
She nods again, and I don’t look away from my girl until Tristan moves to her side. I have to put my trust into him, that he’ll keep the girls safe. I watch him help the girls into Ramsey’s vehicle and only then do I turn back to the wrecked car, because we’re not done yet. The old man couldn’t have pulled this off himself.
I approach carefully, gun still raised, but something shifts in the trees behind me. Just a whisper of movement, leaves rustling where they shouldn't be.
I spin, gun trained on the treeline. Something bright flashes between a couple of tree trunks. It's white, not an animal, definitely a person.
I shoot low, aimed not to kill because I want fucking answers.
A high-pitched scream cuts through the trees, followed by hysterical wailing.
“What the fuck?” Hayden mutters, eyes narrowing. He gets there before I do, dragging a small crumpled figure out frombehind the underbrush. There’s blood, a lot of it, staining one of the guy’s pants legs.
Danny.
CALLUM
Hayden drops Danny to the ground. He’s severely injured. No way he’s running anywhere now. And instead of crying or begging, he just starts laughing. Loud. Unhinged.
“Game’s over. Show’s over,” he cackles, eyes wide, unfocused. “You fuckers win AGAIN. You always win. Because isn’t that life? Survival of the fittest? You fucking hockey players get EVERYTHiNG you want. All the time because of what you look like. That’s the only reason. I have your money. I have everything but your height and body.”
Hayden raises his gun and cocks it with a click. “Sorry you don’t have abs. I don’t know what to tell you, bro,” Hayden would be funny if I wasn’t replaying all the shit Lilac has been through because of this fucking guy. Hayden sighs, “Can I shoot this fucker in the head or what?”
“Don’t,” I snap, stepping in. “I want answers. Lilac deserves answers.”
I grab Danny by the collar and slam him against the nearest tree trunk, my forearm pinning him there as I press the barrel of my gun to the side of his neck.
“I don’t give a fuckwhyyou did this,” I growl. “But who else is in on it?”
He doesn’t answer. Just stares past me. And I know exactly where his eyes land.
Lilac.
Tristan must have seen that we have everything under control because she’s out of the vehicle and walking toward us. Tears spring up, but they’re not sad. My girl is angry. Bitter.
I shove Danny harder, then I pat him down, rough and fast to make sure we don’t have anymore surprises. I find a bloodstained switchblade in his pocket and I toss it toward the woods like it’s nothing but a toy. “Who else is in on this!?”
“You fucking killed him!” Danny screams at him, his voice raising several octaves. I must have hit a nerve. “He was going to be a distraction for me so I could sneak up on you, but you fucking murdered him.” This is really rich coming from a prick who has a collection of dead figure skaters.
Lilac starts to move closer. “Stay back there, baby,” I bark, my chest tight because I don’t want her to have to see all of this. Danny is not making it out of here alive, and if I have anything to say about it, he’s going to leave this world screaming.
“I have to know,” she says, voice shaking, but she’s so fucking strong for this.
I grit my teeth and shove Danny toward Hayden so I can move to Lilac’s side. I don’t trust this bastard not to try something, even now.
“Don’t shove him over here if I can’t fucking shoot him,” Hayden mutters, kicking his foot out at the smaller guy like a pouting child.
“The guys might not care why,” she says, voice clearer now. “But I do. Why? And was that you grabbing my hand when the lights went out during hockey practice?”
