and I used to sleep in this room.” His voice sounded like an echo.
“I know. It’s okay.”
“All this time…”
“We don’t know what’s in those files, what’s in that box.”
“We sure as hell know these are guns.”
I said nothing. I certainly couldn’t dispute him. “That’s not really anything, though, right? You and Joe used to shoot with your dad.”
“Yeah. But we didn’t hide our guns under floorboards.”
I exhaled slowly. “If you don’t think the stuff is safe at the guesthouse, we can still leave it here.”
“And risk someone getting in here and taking it?” He shook his head. “No way.”
“Bryce, the case is closed. Your father and the other two are dead. The compound in the Caribbean is shut down. The victims were freed. It’s over. If they were looking at this cabin, they’d have already found this stuff.”
He looked above me, as if staring into some distance that wasn’t actually there in this small room.
“Bryce?”
“It’s not over, Marjorie. Not by a long shot.”
“If you’re talking about Colin and Ted Morse—”
“I’m not talking about them. At least not just about them.”
I gulped. “What are you talking about, then?”
“I can’t say any more.”
“You can’t just—”
“I made a promise. You have no idea how much I want to be able to talk to you. To anyone. But I can’t.”
“Is this why Henry and your mom are leaving?”
“We need to get out of here. I’m going to put this stuff in the trunk of my car until I figure out what to do with all of it.”
“Bryce, we have—”
“This is over. I… I didn’t mean anything I said. You should go to Paris. I want you to go.”
“Oh, no. You’re not going there again. You need some paper? Want to write me another note? Why not send an emotionless text? That’s easier these days. Do what you want. Say what you want. I don’t believe a fucking word of it now.”
“Don’t you see? I can’t protect you.”
“Who says I need protection? Exactly what are you talking about, Bryce?”
“I made a prom—”
“That ship has sailed. I’m in this now. If you think my safety’s at stake, I need to know what’s going on.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Bryce
She was right.
She was in this now, and all because I’d brought her here. Because I’d wanted her so badly and had nowhere else to go. Because I couldn’t control my need and desire—my love—for this woman.
So I’d brought her to this place—this place where I’d had so many happy memories, memories that were now stained by my father’s sickness.
Only to find more secrets—more secrets I now had to deal with.
“I’m serious,” she said. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Was this place bugged? I hadn’t given that possibility a thought when I’d come here with Marjorie. Joe and I were so careful about everywhere we went, yet I’d been completely blinded by lust. This cabin had been my father’s, so of course the FBI would be watching it.
And if they were watching it, they would have searched it.
And if they’d searched it, they’d have found…
Something wasn’t adding up.
Ted Morse was right. This was far from over.
“Bryce, come on,” she said again.
“Joe will kill me.”
“My brother? My brother’s in this? You need to be straight with me. Now.”
How could I? How could I bring her goodness and light into this dark world that had become my existence?
Thank God my mom and Henry would be safe in Florida. Now, if I could convince Marj to keep her plans to go to Paris, she’d be safe as well. The Steel ranch without Marj would be like a Colorado day without sunlight, but her safety was more important than anything.
I cleared my throat. “When are you leaving again?”
“For Paris? You just spent an hour convincing me not to go.”
“I changed my mind.”
“This is a crock,” she said. “You’re going to level with me. Right. Now.”
I said nothing.
“Fine. I’ll go to Joe, then. He’ll tell me.”
“No!” If she went to Joe, he’d know I let something slip. He’d also know about Marj and me.
“Sorry.” She stood. “I’m out of here.”
“Do you even know where we are?”
She plunked back down on the bed. “Fine. You’re in charge, but you still owe me an explanation. Quite frankly, you’re scaring the hell out of me. What exactly are you and Joe involved in?”
I sighed. “More than you can imagine.”
She took my hand and pulled me onto the bed to sit beside her. “Start talking. I’m here for you.”
Where to start? How could I put memories that had just resurfaced into words?