Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 77120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
I lean back in the chair and rub a hand over my face. “Yeah, I know.”
“So?” he asks, stepping inside now. “What gives?”
I let out a long breath. “I feel bad, Brad. Really bad. I’ve dumped a ton of stuff on you the last few months, and you haven’t said a damned word about it.”
He shrugs like it’s nothing. “It’s fine. You’ve had a lot going on.”
I shake my head. “Still. It’s not fair. Not with everything you’re dealing with. Uncle Joe… Your dad’s fighting cancer, and I’ve been sitting here letting you carry most of the load.”
He goes quiet for a second, staring at the floor. “The docs say he’s doing great. But sometimes his face tells another story. I’d rather be here than watching him pretend he’s okay when he’s not. Chemo, man… It’s rough, even on the strongest man I know.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Sometimes it’s easier to be here, engrossed in work. And you have your own shit going on.”
“I get that,” I say quietly. “But that’s still not an excuse for me to check out.”
“You didn’t check out,” he says. “You’ve been showing up.”
He’s not wrong. My body’s been present, but my head’s been spinning.
“I don’t want to let you down,” I say.
Bradley exhales through his nose and looks up at me. “If you don’t walk out of this office in the next five minutes, I’m going to drag you out by your collar.”
I almost laugh. Almost.
“You’ve got this?” I ask.
“Go,” he says. “Be the best man. Be a brother. We can save the world on Monday.”
I nod, standing up slowly. “Thanks, Brad. Really.”
“Just don’t forget your speech,” he calls as I head for the door. “And don’t make it weird.”
No promises.
Six months earlier…
Jason holds a man in a headlock. He’s wearing a brown UPS uniform, and his nose is bloody. He’s struggling to break free from Jason’s grip.
He elbows Jason right in the gut and breaks free of the headlock, lunging toward Angie.
Oh, hell no.
Not my sister, you derelict.
Rage hurls through me, and I act on instinct.
My pistol is strapped to my ankle. Yeah, I carry. Damned good thing, too.
I charge. Jason straightens himself just in time to duck a swing from the man, grab his wrist, and slam his forearm against the doorframe. He cries out in pain and raises a leg, bringing his foot down on Jason’s instep. Jason lets go but lands an uppercut right to the man’s jaw.
His eyes roll back in his head, and he slowly slinks to the floor.
I pat down his uniform and pull out a gun from his pocket.
“Holy shit, Jason, you were right. He was about to shoot us.” I hold the gun in front of me. “How did you know?”
Jason points to the street. “The car. I recognized it from the night I was scoping Ralph’s apartment. This guy must be his muscle, the guy who kept him informed while he was in the hospital.”
“Yes, I saw him once disguised as a nurse,” Angie says. “He must be the guy that Ralph hired to beat him up.”
“And I bet he orchestrated the deaths of the Chapman brothers, too,” Jason says.
Angie raises an eyebrow. “What?”
Jason rubs the back of his neck. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you. I think Ralph had them killed as well. Steve Chapman, his old friend from school. This guy”—he gestures to the unconscious man on Angie’s front stoop—“must have been able to hack my search history on my computer or my phone or something, because I was looking for information about Lindsay, and after I finally got Steve’s number, I called, and he had just died an hour before I called.”
Angie gulps. “My God.”
“But you said there were two brothers,” Tabitha says, walking up from behind Angie and out onto the porch. “What happened to the other one?”
“He was found dead early this morning,” Angie says. “Gray Eyes over here figured out that he had been helping me, despite the fact that his brother had just died. So he had him killed, too.”
“Holy shit,” Tabitha says.
Jason nods. “Steve had a prior brain injury, and Tom had some preexisting heart condition. Their deaths were easily explained away.” His lip trembles. “Just like Lindsay’s was.”
Slow clapping.
“Very good, Dr. Lansing.”
What the…?
Another man, a bloody gash on his forehead, and—
In a flash, he’s got a knife at Angie’s throat.
“Ralph, don’t!” Jason cries out.
He presses the knife against Angie’s neck. “Don’t move, Lansing, or your tight little girlfriend gets her pretty little throat slit.”
“Why are you doing this?” Jason asks. “Lindsay’s gone. It’s over.”
Ralph shrugs. “It’s over when I decide it’s over. How the hell could she choose you over me? You’re a fake, Lansing. Poor doctor can’t do surgery, can’t even teach anymore.”
Slowly I walk forward. I’m still holding the UPS guy’s gun.