For now, they’re safe.” He places his empty glass on the coffee table. “You should get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a big day.”
I nod, not turning from my tormented reflection in the glass as he walks from the room.
My headache returns full force. My stomach wants to revolt.
I need answers, goddamnit.
I have to know if Benji is involved. If he has anything to do with Abi’s death or this afternoon’s shooting.
I have to fucking know.
The longer I stand here without a clue, without fucking grounding, the more I picture my brother doing stupid, unforgivable shit.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” I snarl. “Jesus. Fucking. Christ.”
I cock my fist, needing to punch something. Anything.
I need answers. Not in the morning. Not when Benji’s ready.
Fucking now.
I slam my glass down on the coffee table and stalk for the far hall. I open door after door, finding Tobias sleeping, then spare room after spare room before hitting the jackpot.
I don’t have to see my brother through the darkness to know he’s here. The familiar stuttered snore says it all and Layla’s quiet breaths are an unwelcomed accompaniment, as I pad forward to stop beside the bed.
He’s barely visible. There’s only the red glow from the bedside clock to give the faint perception of where he is. But it’s him. I know this man almost better than I know myself. At least, I thought I did.
The pound of my chest increases as I watch him sleep. He’s saved my life a million times. He’s all I’ve ever had. And now he could be everything that brings me undone.
He’s unsettled while he rests.
Twitchy.
Something’s playing on his mind, and I’m certain it could get us both killed.
He grunts. Groans. Snores some more. The restlessness adds fuel to my paranoia, ratchets my pulse, and feeds the pain in my temples.
All my adult life I’ve attempted to make up for needing his protection as a child. I’ve tried to repay him for the beatings he took on my behalf. I gave up income and a career and grounding.
But if he’s helping Robert… If he’s assisting in the murder of innocent women…
I pull the gun from the back of my jeans, my hand trembling as I guide the barrel to rest against the side of his throat.
He’s guilty. Of what I’m not sure. But he’s guilty of something.
I press the barrel harder, digging it into his neck.
His breathing shudders.
Chokes.
He stiffens. His eyes open.
“It’s me,” I growl, keeping my voice low. “It’s time to start talking.”
“Jesus,” he hisses. “Are you insane? You’ll wake—”
“If your snoring didn’t wake her, this won’t either. So, start talking, otherwise Torian is going to get involved, and I have the distinct impression you’re not going to want that to happen.”
He falls quiet, confirming my suspicions, fucking nailing them to the wall.
“Did you kill her?” I squeeze the gun in my sweating palm. “Did you kill Abi?”
“No,” he snarls.
It’s fucking bullshit.
“What about the woman attacked today? Were you involved?”
“What woman? What fucking attack?”
I scoff a breathy laugh. “Don’t play dumb. I swear to God, it’s only out of loyalty and your marriage to his sister that Torian isn’t all over your ass right now. He’ll see through the blinders soon enough.”
“Get that fucking gun away from me, Luca.”
I dig the barrel harder. “Then fucking talk.”
There’s a rustle of bedsheets. A squeak of mattress springs. A murmured, “Daddy?”
My stomach dives.
Stella is in here. In the bed. Near the pointed gun of a man influenced by alcohol.
“It’s okay, baby,” Benji whispers. “Go back to sleep.”
I lower to my knees, sinking into the darkness as my gun remains in place.
For long moments, there’s no movement. No noise. Then the slightest whimper of sleep breaches the air, the sound feminine and young.
“Get out of here,” he seethes. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
“No. We do this now.”
“Jesus, Luc.” There’s a tremble in his voice. “I didn’t hurt those women.”
I don’t believe him. I fucking don’t.
God knows I want to. I’d give anything to build a life here with Penny. To settle down and find some sort of normal. But every time I gain footing, he pulls the rug out from beneath me. “You’ve got two seconds to start—”
“I’m cheating on her,” he whispers.
I snap rigid, mindlessly blinking for long moments. I don’t understand. What he confessed doesn’t make sense. “What did you say?”
“I’m cheating on Layla. There’s another woman. That’s what I’ve been keeping from you. That’s why I’ve been distant.”
No.
He wouldn’t be that stupid.
He couldn’t.
Cheating on Torian’s sister is a