Chapter Five

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Everything inside Kit went still. A temporary reaction. Quickly followed by an avalanche of emotions. At the top of that emotional barrage was a sickening dread that she had been right about her brother.

Even after seeing that text on the burner, Kit had hoped she was wrong. But this sounded like a confirmation that she'd dreaded.

She resisted the urge to have her nephew read out the texts and instead focused on something that was even more important. "Brandon, I want you to lock your door and stay inside your apartment. If you have a security system, turn it on."

"You think I could be in danger?" he asked, suddenly sounding much younger than his nineteen years.

"I just don't want you to take any chances," she settled for saying. "I'm on the way there now."

Kit glanced at Jace to see if he was going to give her any argument about that. He groaned, but it wasn't an objection. It was resignation that they had no choice but to go there. Then, he motioned toward his dash monitor. "Put in the address to Brandon's apartment in my GPS."

"I'll see you in about fifteen minutes," she added to Brandon.

Kit ended the call and entered the address that she took from her phone while Jace used his hands free to send a text to Angel to let him know about the change of plans.

"Thank you," she told him after Jace made the turn that would take them in the right direction. To Brandon's apartment on the north side of the city.

"Don't thank me yet," Jace was quick to reply. "You know your brother could have left those phones for Brandon to find, figuring he'd call you and that you'd come running right over to see them and to check on your nephew. This could be a trap."

"Yes, that has occurred to me."

Kit sighed. And worried. Mercy, she worried.

Not for herself but for Brandon.

"I hate to think Trevor could use his own son like this, but at this point, I have to admit my brother could be capable of anything." She paused. "Or else someone is making Trevor look guilty."

Jace glanced at her—and their surroundings. Obviously, he was dealing with his own worries, and that included them being attacked along the way to Brandon's apartment.

"You mean your father or Marvin," Jace provided. "Roy," he added, and a whirling multicolored circle popped up on his dash monitor along with the map on the GPS. "Do a probability run on current assignment, Katherine Barclay. Calculate stats for persons of interest in her file. Who's most likely to be the perpetrator of the two attempts to harm her?"

"Roy?" she questioned.

"It's an AI security app that Ruby's techs created. It's installed on my phone and vehicles."

"Handy," she muttered. "Why is it called Roy?" But then she waved it off. "From the original Blade Runner movie. It used to be your favorite."

"Still is," he answered. Jace did another of those sweeping glances around them. "FYI, these phones that your nephew found probably can't be used as evidence against Trevor."

She made a weary sound of agreement because that had already occurred to her. It was the chain of custody glitch again. Brandon had removed the phones instead of calling in the cops. Probably because he hadn't been thinking of criminal charges and such. He'd likely just been surprised when he'd seen the phone and then had wanted to know what was on them.

Apparently, what was on them had been very bad for him to call her.

Still, she wished the wannabe cop part of Brandon had kicked in, and he'd realized that touching and removing the phones wasn't a good idea. Of course, he'd had no actual police training, and he'd likely just reacted at the shock of seeing them. Specifically, seeing what was on them.

"Stats for the case file of Katherine Barclay," Roy said. His voice wasn't robotic sounding but rather a replication of the character from the movie. "Probability that Ramsey Barclay is the perpetrator is seventy-four percent."

"Ramsey," Jace muttered. Not actually a question, but the AI app treated it as if it'd been one.

"Correct," Roy responded, "with the second highest probability being Marvin Shoemaker. Third is Trevor Barclay. Fourth is Brandon Barclay."

"Brandon?" Jace and she said in unison. And those were questions.

"Correct," the app repeated. "Both Brandon and his mother, Deanna Barclay, have the same probability statistic."

That didn't cause the tightness in her chest to ease up. "I can't see either Brandon or his mother involved in his," she said to Jace. "Deanna is the silver spoon, garden club type. She frets when she chips a fingernail."

She stopped, recalling some photos she'd seen of Deanna. Ones taken before she married Trevor.

"Though Deanna was apparently a champion archer," Kit explained. "And she excelled at other sports like competitive swimming and cross country."

Not that being sports-minded proved anything, though it did indicate the woman had a competitive streak and the discipline it took to excel.

"And as for Brandon," Kit added. "There's a lot of tension between Brandon and Trevor."

"Yet, he went to his father's office," Jace pointed out.

He had indeed done that. For something he needed for college, he'd said. Since it was July and the new semester would start next month, that meshed with Brandon having to do some kind of paperwork. But why would it have been in Trevor's office? These days, most of the forms were done online.

"I agree with Roy on this," she added a moment later. "My father is still the best candidate for the two attacks."

Jace made a sound of agreement. "So, why are you just now seeing what your father is? And, yeah, I know you said you didn't see him do anything outright illegal, but you're smart, and you would have known he was dirty. Why stay in his pocket all this time?"

Oh, they were going here. Here, to a place she'd avoided going for, well, nearly two decades.

Considering they were now less than ten minutes from arriving at Brandon's apartment, this was probably the worst timing in the history of bad timings. However, she went ahead and spelled it out for him, knowing that Jace wasn't going to like what she was about to say.

"To use an old movie cliché, my father made me an offer I couldn't refuse," Kit said.

Jace cursed. "No amount of money was worth that."

"I agree. And the offer wasn't money." She paused. Had to. "The offer was you . At least part of it was."

As she'd expected, that earned her a puzzled look from Jace. It didn't last long. Jace was smart, and she watched as he mentally filled in the blanks.

Yeah, they were going here all right.

"Are you saying…" He started but then stopped and cursed. It took him a couple of seconds to rein in his anger. "Are you saying your father blackmailed you by threatening me?"

Kit could sugarcoat this, but since the box was already open, she didn't bother. Besides, Jace would soon figure it all out.

"Yes," she verified. "You and your foster brothers, Angel and Presley." She gathered her breath. "He could have ruined all three of you."

Jace's grip tightened to white knuckles on the steering wheel, and he shot some glares at her. Brief glares because even now, he was in the protector mode. Even now, he was watching out for her.

Kit liked to think she'd watched out for him back then.

"My father can be a dangerous man," she went on. "And he doesn't play nice. I'd watched him destroy my mother because of an affair she had when I was fourteen. He turned her family against her, ruined her financially, bankrupted her business, and hounded both her and her lover until she ended her life."

"You didn't need to sacrifice yourself for me. I wouldn't have ended my life no matter what he did to me," Jace started through a very tight jaw.

"I know, but again, it wasn't just you. It was Angel and Presley. And me," she had to add. "Because my father didn't come out and say it, but he would have done to me what he did to my mother. I was a coward, and I gave in. I got our marriage annulled and ended things with you."

Or rather she'd attempted to end things.

But there'd been those hookups with Jace, and they'd happened any and every time that they'd crossed paths. Probably not this time though. She was the job now. And Jace wasn't likely to forgive her anytime soon for not having the courage to stand up to her father.

"Do you remember that day I went to you to give you back my engagement and wedding rings," she went on.

Jace gave her a flat stare to let her know he did indeed remember it. Of course, he had. That meeting had shattered them both, but Jace had no doubt taken the brunt of the shattering since he hadn't known this wasn't about her feelings for him.

But rather what her father had demanded.

"Ramsey had one of his hired muscle guys follow me," Kit spelled out. "He recorded the meeting so my father could be sure I'd truly broken off things with you."

Jace couldn't quite maintain that flat look. Probably because he was remembering her handing back the engagement ring and the wedding band. They hadn't been from a high-end store. Nor had they been expensive. But it had ripped her to pieces to take them off and hand them to Jace.

The words had done some heart-ripping, too.

It's over. I don't love you, and our marriage was a mistake. Please don't try to contact me ever again .

With that, she'd walked away. Kit had made it all the way back to her car before she had broken down and cried. And cried.

And cried.

Several days later, she'd received a small package from Jace. There'd been no note, only the gold wedding band that she'd bought him on the day of their elopement. He was returning it to her. That had brought on yet more tears and a finality that it was truly over. Her father had won, and Jace and his foster brothers weren't going to be subjected to hell and back. Well, not from Ramsey anyway. They had likely made some trips to hell during their time in military and police force.

"What did you do with my rings?" she asked because it was something Kit had always wanted to know. During the dark moments, she'd envisioned then at the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico.

Jace shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"No," she heard herself say. But it did matter. Why exactly, she didn't know other than she liked the idea of Jace hanging onto a little piece of what had once been their life.

She certainly had.

His ring was in her jewelry box, and on tough days, she had taken it out and put it on her own finger. A keepsake she'd kept from Ramsey because had he known about it, he would have found a way to destroy it.

"You're telling me this now," Jace stated several seconds later. "Because…why? Angel, Presley, and I are with Maverick Ops, and you thought we were out of your father's reach?"

"That was part of it. I doubt even the mighty Ramsey Barclay wants to go up against Ruby Maverick. But there was also that attack. Marvin's attack," Kit clarified. "My father was watching from the window. I saw him, and he wasn't doing anything to stop Marvin from hurting that woman. That's when I knew I had to do something. And because you and your foster brothers were safe, I could do that something by testifying."

Jace stayed quiet for several long moments. "So, you're setting yourself up for Ramsey to come after you full throttle."

She was, and while Kit definitely wasn't looking forward to this showdown, she also hadn't seen a way around it. She'd walked the narrow, cowardly way for nineteen years, and it was time for that to end.

"You…" Jace started but stopped again. He groaned and hit his fist on the steering wheel. One hit, that was all, and then he settled and nailed his attention to the road ahead as he took the exit to Brandon's. "This conversation isn't over," he issued like a warning.

She hadn't thought it was, but it had to go on the back burner because Jace turned into the parking lot of Brandon's apartment complex. Not an affluent part of the city, but the units all looked well-maintained.

"No security gates," Jace muttered.

"There isn't, but I believe this is a safe neighborhood. And it fits Brandon's budget. Since he turned eighteen, he's been working part-time and living off what his grandmother left him. He didn't want to take money from his parents."

And that led her back to her earlier question of why had Brandon gone to his father's office. Soon, she'd want to find out, but for now, she just needed to make sure Brandon was safe and to see what was on those phones.

"It's number 211," she said, tipping her head to the center unit on the second floor.

To access the apartment, they'd have to go up a flight of stairs or take the elevator to the landing. After that, they'd have to walk, out in the open, past four other apartments to get to Brandon's.

Kit checked to make sure Brandon's door was closed. It was. And she didn't see him at the windows that faced the parking lot. Good. He was staying out of sight.

Jace parked in a visitor's spot, and since there wasn't a second one next to him, Angel circled around and pulled into a loading zone about thirty feet away. She reached for the door handle, but Jace slid his hand over hers to stop her from getting out.

Her body, and her mind, reacted to that touch.

The reaction was the norm, and Jace could definitely light some fires with just a touch. Or a look. Heck, just by breathing. But that wasn't a heated look he gave her. It was a reminder of the danger.

"Wait until Angel comes over," Jace instructed.

She looked up and saw that Angel was already out of his van and was heading their way. Unlike Jace, there was no Viking warrior vibe from him. Not with that black hair, deep brown eyes, and tats on his heavily muscled arms. He looked tall, dark, and very dangerous, more like a mafia hitman.

Once Angel made it to the SUV, he went to the passenger's side and opened her door. "Kit," he greeted, and despite that whole mafia hitman feel, there was a touch of warmth to it.

She was about to greet him in return, but then she caught a blur of movement from the corner of her eye. Motion coming from the second floor.

Kit snapped in that direction, and she saw something she definitely didn't want to see.

A person wearing a ski mask.

The person ran straight toward Brandon's apartment, stopped at the door and took aim at the window to the right it.

And he fired into the glass.

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