Chapter 78

The roilingin Kayla’s stomach had nothing to do with the volumes of smoke she’d inhaled, the lacerations on her feet, the worry she carried for her mother, or the gruesome scene before her.

This sickness went deeper. It tried to debilitate her, and had nearly succeeded.

Mason Wade had killed Sybil and Elsie. Executed them.

For her.

She lifted a fist and pressed it against her mouth in a feeble attempt to hold back the bile. Her other hand reached for the square of pink paper.

“Don’t,” Ash warned in a low voice. “Evidence.”

Zeke’s attention snapped to his brother. “We’re well beyond that. Right, bro?” His eyes shifted to Kayla and back. “Family first.”

If she didn’t already love Liv’s fiancé, his inclusion of her into the Blackwell clan would have clinched the deal. Words of gratitude lodged in her suddenly thick throat. The Blackwells were known throughout Steele Ridge for eschewing society, preferring their own company, and for being slow to trust strangers.

It was partly because the nature of their business required them to tiptoe over the legal line. Sometimes they vaulted over it. The greater reason they kept things tight-knit was genetics. While still in the womb, they were taught to put family before all else, no matter the consequences.

Realizing how quiet Ash had become, Kayla joined her gaze with the brothers’ as they waited for him to fight a silent war in his mind.

A selfish piece of her heart shriveled when he didn’t immediately agree with Zeke. But she batted away the emotion. She knew what it meant when your career pulled you in an opposite direction from your heart. Both didn’t always align, but both made her—them—whole.

For Ash, setting aside the lawful way to handle this situation to protect her—and as a result, Jillian and HCVS—must have felt like severing an appendage.

“It’s all right, Ash.” She wrapped a hand around his hard bicep, felt his thundering pulse beneath her fingertips. “I’ll find a way to explain what happened to the authorities.” She reached for a note of humor. “Digging clients out of disaster zones is kind of my lane. Today, I’m the client.”

His face turned stormy. “You think I’m capable of walking away?”

“It would be hard, but I know how important justice is to you.”

“You are the most frustrating, most dangerous”—he raked a hand through his hair—“most . . .”

“Selfless?” Rohan offered.

“Loyal?” Zeke added.

“Yes,” he ground out. “Fuck y’all, yes.” He turned to her, leveled on her an uncompromising look. “All I’m interested in is protecting you”—without looking, he pointed in his brothers’ direction—“and those asshats.”

Rohan lifted a brow.

Zeke grinned, then frowned, then wiped all emotion off his face.

“That’s it,” Ash continued. “Got it?”

Emotion squeezed her chest like an ever-tightening tourniquet. A smile wobbled. “Got it.” She kissed him softly on the mouth, then glanced at the remnants of her once-beloved aunties.

“Just heard from Cruz and Phin,” Zeke said. “They found the two mercs.”

“Are they headed back this way?” Ash asked.

“Their throats were slit.”

Ash and Zeke shared a weighty glance.

“Mason?” Kayla asked.

“He gets my vote,” Rohan said.

“We need to make this look like a burglary gone bad,” Ash said. “Clean up all evidence to the contrary. Including the dead bodies.”

“Agreed,” Zeke said.

Kayla realized that Ash’s internal monologue hadn’t been a war between his FBI duties and protecting her. He’d been plotting how to get them all out of this mess. She hugged his arm, then stepped toward Sybil.

“First, I need to . . . ” She reached for the pink barrier.

“It won’t be pretty,” Ash said.

“I know.”

“It could have a lasting, negative effect.”

Nightmares, mental flashes, sweats, panic attacks.

She’d already considered the consequences. None of them could hold a candle to wiping away the haunting image of Vicky dying in front of her. Tonight, she would erase one terror and replace it with a lesser one. “I understand.”

“Make it quick. We’re running out of time.”

She plucked the paper off Sybil’s forehead. Her stomach clenched at the familiar round, dark hole. Swallowing, she turned away and took a step toward Elsie’s side of the macabre scene.

“Kayla,” Rohan cautioned, “please reconsider.”

Sirens echoed in the distance. Jillian had either succeeded or someone on the opposite ridge had noticed the orange glow against the night sky. Kayla hoped it was the former.

She paused. “What’s one more?”

“It won’t be one more. It’s a new horror all its own.”

Kayla frowned, her gaze jumping from one brother to the next, trying to divine their thoughts.

Zeke sighed. “The two wounds you’ve seen were entry wounds.” He pointed at Elsie. “That’s an exit wound.”

Shifting her stance, she forced herself to look at the back of Sybil’s head and nearly lost what little food she had in her stomach. The wound was gaping, messy, nothing like the near perfect hole on her face.

“How did?—?”

Mason had used one bullet to kill them both. Now she understood why he’d tied the sash around their necks. To ensure a clean shot, through one head and the next.

Kayla maneuvered around until she faced Elsie’s body. Held in place more by blood than glue, the pink square barely did its job of covering the wound. Her determination wavered, then she thought about what Elsie had done to Jillian and her reason for killing Vicky.

She ripped off the sticky note.