24. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Brooke snuck out of Clint's bed before he woke up the next morning. The last thing she needed was for Talia to go searching for either Brooke or Clint and find Brooke not in her bed. They didn't want to give the little girl any more false hope than she already had.

Brooke had enough false hope for the both of them, anyway.

Even though last night should have been considered a mistake, it didn't feel like one.

But it also didn't feel like the closure she thought it would be.

If anything, it just made things worse.

It just reaffirmed everything. It was real. Mutual.

Dear God, he told her he loved her.

Then she said it back.

So no, they weren't in a bad place anymore. Things were amicable—she hoped—but maybe that was worse.

A clean breakup because it was simply a matter of wrong place, wrong time, and not him cheating with a movie extra.

The house was still quiet when she made her way downstairs and brewed a cup of tea. Then she opened the back patio and sat in the red Adirondack chair, curling her knees up to her chest. She'd put on some sweats and one of Clint's hoodies that she found hanging up on the coat rack. It smelled like him.

Musky and earthy. Manly and woodsy. With just a hint of hops, or maybe that was barley?

Whatever it was, putting on his hoodie turned out to be a bad idea in hindsight. It just made her sadder.

She hadn't even taken her first sip of her steaming tea before the first tear fell, turning the light gray of the sweater a darker shade.

She didn't want to leave.

She loved it here. Loved everything about the island, about the property and the people that lived here. It was heaven. A little slice of hippy heaven plunked in the middle of the Puget Sound, just minutes from metropolitan Seattle.

But she couldn't bring her chaotic world to the island.

They worked very hard to protect their way of life here. To protect their peace and their privacy.

It was mayhem since news of her being alive surfaced. Locals were getting angry with Clint and his brothers, saying news stations were harassing them. The ferry was even more backed up with longer sailing waits than ever before. And apparently Hattie Granger's cat almost got run over by someone who'd simply come to the island to take a picture for their Instagram of them standing on the very rock where Clint found Brooke. Not that they really had any clue which rock, but people were attention whores and would make shit up for likes and clicks.

The guilt was real, and it was painful.

This family had already been through so much, they didn't need this drama, too.

They deserved drama-free for the rest of their days.

Inhaling the fresh morning air, she took in her picturesque surroundings one more time. The rolling hillside behind the houses with tall grass and wildflowers all bedazzled in dew. The sun was just starting to peek over the trees, and when it hit a dew drop or two, they glittered like cut gems.

She would miss this, too.

She would miss everything.

"You sure you're ready to leave?" came a familiar voice that made her smile .

She craned her neck around to see Rocco standing in the doorway. He wore a white T-shirt and khaki shorts.

"No," she said plainly. "But it's the right thing to do. Have you spoken with your lawyers?"

He grunted and nodded as he took a seat beside her in the other chair. "Yep. They're making the amendments. If you die first and I get your inheritance, fine and dandy. Then if I die, all the money will go to the wildlife center."

"Good. And if you die, then I die, all my money will go to the wildlife center, too."

"Perfect. Either way, if we die, the animals get the money, not that piece of shit in prison or any of his mongrel family."

"We're part of that mongrel family," she said gently.

"He was a fucking sperm donor, and that's it. He was never a dad to us, you know that. These guys here, these men are what real fathers look like. They listen to their children. They spend time with their children. They actually fucking love their children. Fletcher saw us as burdens. As mouths to feed. We were nothing but unwanted dependents."

Brooke gingerly sipped her tea. She didn't disagree, she just didn't want to talk about their dad any longer.

Noises in the house meant someone else was up.

"I want pancakes again, please, daddy," Talia said.

"I think there are still some in the fridge," Clint said before yawning.

Brooke's heart did a heavy thump against her ribcage at the sound of his voice.

He poked his head around the corner a second later. "Good morning."

"'Morning," Rocco said, stretching his arms above his head so his T-shirt rose enough to reveal the bottom of his abdomen.

Clint's gaze found Brooke's. It was endlessly warm, and woke up every butterfly in her belly. "Good morning."

She swallowed. "'Morning."

"Coffee?" he asked Rocco.

"Please." Rocco followed him into the kitchen, but Brooke wasn't alone for long.

Talia joined her. And she didn't even ask before she climbed into Brooke's lap, forcing Brooke to move her mug of hot tea. "I don't want you to leave," Talia said, giving Brooke a big pout.

"I know, sweetheart," Brooke said, trailing her hand down Talia's hair. "But I need to go. Me being here is bringing way too much attention to the island, to your family, and to you. You got hit by a car, honey. A car that was here because of me."

"It was an accident," she protested. "I could have been hit by a car any day."

Brooke, taken aback by the little girl's grip with reality, looked into Talia's eyes in order to drive the pint home. "I know, but the parking lot was fuller than usual. And that car was here for me. Had I not been here, that car wouldn't have been here and you wouldn't have gotten hit."

Tears flooded her blue eyes. "I hate this. It isn't fair."

A thick ball formed in Brooke's throat as she continued to stroke the little girl's head, pulling her tighter into her embrace until Talia's head rested against Brooke's chest. "I know, angel. I know. This doesn't have to mean goodbye forever. You can call me anytime. Day or night, and I will answer. You need something? I'm your gal. You want to complain about your dad and how he's being such a dad? You call me and just vent. Let it all out."

"You can stay here and I can complain to you, too, you know?"

"I wish I could. But it's not safe. Not for you, anyway."

Talia sniffled, and when Brooke glanced down, she saw Talia's dark gray droplets had mixed with Brooke's on her hoodie. "When do you leave?" Talia asked.

"Inez, my assistant, is coming to get me at four o'clock." Last night when she told Clint that she was leaving, he texted his brothers and they all agreed to let the kids play hooky from school and hang out with Brooke for the day. "So we have all day together. Whatever you want to do. You've got me for at least seven hours."

"It's still not long enough."

Brooke pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I know, honey. Not for me, either."

Clint didn't make a sound, but he didn't have to. She felt him. Felt his heated stare, his intensity ... his love.

She glanced to the sliding door where Clint stood just in the frame, watching Brooke with his daughter. His expression grew more and more strained until she hiccuped a sob and looked away. He must have peeled away, too, because when she glanced back, he was gone.

She squeezed Talia even tighter and pressed another kiss to her head, inhaling her fruity children's shampoo and imprinting that scent on her brain for eternity, too. "What's the first thing on our agenda today?"

Talia lifted her head, her cheeks damp. "Friendship bracelets. The permanent kind you have to tie on. And we can never, ever take them off."

A breath stuttered out of Brooke as a new fissure formed in her heart. She mustered a smile. "Sounds perfect."

Noon came in the blink of an eye, and Brooke said goodbye to her brother with fat tears blurring her vision.

It gave Brooke pause about how different their lives were.

He bussed and cabbed and walked all over, while she had a private driver most of the time. She couldn't even remember the last time she sat behind the wheel of a vehicle and drove herself anywhere.

And she definitely couldn't remember the last time she took a cab, let alone a bus.

She knew she was privileged, but she was really beginning to hate how much. How the simplest things like driving to the store for milk never happened anymore. And she couldn't recall when that simplicity and domesticity had been stripped from her.

One thing was for sure: she was going to take it back when she got to Monterey. She was going to drive to the store herself to get groceries. She would take a bus or call a cab. She didn't need a private driver all the time. If Keanu Reeves could ride the subway and chill on a park bench without the paparazzi hounding him, so could she. She didn't want to be exclusive or a big deal. She didn't like it. She wanted to conspicuously do everyday normal person things like walk her dog—because she would absolutely be getting a dog when she got home—and pick up her dry cleaning. And if Inez fought her on it, well, tough.

"Call me as soon as you land," Brooke said as she hugged her brother for the third time, squeezing him even tighter than the first two.

"You don't have a phone," Rocco replied with a chuckle.

"Well, call Inez."

Grumbling, he suppressed his sarcasm. "I'll email you."

"I really wish the two of you would bury the hatchet already. It was so many years ago. You've both grown up since then. You have successful careers. And I'm pretty sure she's moved on and is no longer crushing on you."

They were still hugging. Her brother tensed a little in her arms, but eventually relaxed and exhaled. "Maybe next time I come to visit, the three of us can have dinner."

She pulled away a little and held onto his shoulders. "I'd like that."

Then she kissed his cheek as tears spilled down hers, then stood in the doorjamb with Talia and Clint as her brother—her only family—climbed into Clint's truck with Jagger.

A moment later, the truck pulled away, pausing only for the electric gate to swing open.

"Brooke!" came a voice from the woods just beyond the gate. "Brooke Barker!"

Then the flash and click of cameras as she squinted, looking for the source of the voice.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Clint growled, stomping out into the driveway. "Get the fuck out of here. This is private property."

"Why's she still hiding if the killer has been found?" the guy in the bushes called out.

Click. Click. Click went his camera.

Brooke could see the telephoto lens sticking out from the shrubbery now.

Jagger rolled down the window. "Buddy, you need to get out of here!" He pulled ahead so the gate could close just as Clint approached, making sure the person in the bushes didn't try to sneak through before the gate locked again.

"You need to leave," Clint hollered, shielding his face as the man with the camera continued to take more pictures.

"I've never seen my dad this mad before," Talia said, looping her cast-free arm around Brooke's waist. "He's really angry."

Guilt burned like acid in Brooke's belly as Jagger sat there in his truck, and Clint escorted the man down the hill to the parking lot. Jagger rumbled down the hill a few moments later, and shortly after that, Clint reappeared.

He punched in the code for the small man-door on the side of the gate—how they managed to get that thing erected so fast still eluded Brooke—then continued toward them. Steam practically rose from his ears.

Talia laced her fingers with Brooke's. "Come on, let's go make more bracelets."

Nodding, but with her mind—and heart—still with the man who wore a thundercloud as a hat stalking toward them, she followed Talia inside.

Within minutes, the rest of the children joined them, and they spent the remainder of the day making bracelets and baking cookies—again. Though, they really didn't need any more cookies in the house. But it was what the children wanted to do, so nobody denied them.

It was four o'clock before any of them knew it, and Inez buzzed the intercom to be let in through the security gate and parked her silver rental sedan in front of Clint's house.

Brooke opened the door before Inez had a chance to knock. She didn't want Clint or Talia to think she was eager to leave, because she sure as hell wasn't, but the longer she stayed, the harder it would be to go. As it was, it was already agonizing.

This home felt more like home to Brooke than any place she'd ever laid her head before. And she'd only been here for twelve days. She felt safer here than anywhere else. More at peace.

The children had decorated her with enough friendship bracelets that she wouldn't soon forget any of them. Ones made with beads, others made with threads, and then the ever-popular rainbow loom elastic band ones that Aya was currently obsessed with.

She had at least a dozen up each arm and made sure that she made one for each kid, too.

The way they beamed at her when she tied it around their wrist made her heart clench and the back of her eyes burn.

She'd give up her life in California for a life like this one. For this kind of perpetual joy and sweetness. She didn't need to keep acting. She had enough money to retire now if she wanted to.

Could she propose something like that to Clint? Would he even go for it?

They shared a memorable night together last night, an amazing night, but it felt like a finale. Like ... he was saying goodbye. Forever.

"Ready to go?" Inez chirped. She wore a red tank top and jeans rolled up at the ankles.

Clint found Brooke a spare duffle bag for her belongings, but before Brooke could pick it up, Inez had her fingers wrapped around the handle. "I got it, boss."

"Thanks," Brooke murmured.

A small, warm hand cupped hers. "Please don't go," Talia said, sadness painted across her little face.

"Yeah, Brooke. Stay," echoed the rest of the children in the house.

Only Jagger came to see her off. Dom, Wyatt, and Bennett were down at the restaurant working. They'd come up earlier that day to bid her farewell. And even though they were all very kind, she could tell they were glad to see her—or at least the drama that seemed to follow her—gone.

Jagger hung back with the kids in the house, but Clint stood behind Brooke and Talia. His heat penetrated Brooke's back, reassuring and protective.

And when his hand fell to just above her sacrum, she sighed a little and relaxed.

The moment didn't last, though.

"Brooke's safe now, honey," Clint said, removing his hand. "She has a life in California she needs to return to."

"But why?" Talia asked.

"Because it's where she belongs," he replied.

That stung worse than touching your eyes after cutting hot peppers.

Brooke swallowed past the lump at the top of her throat.

Inez returned from putting the duffle bag in the car, a curious look on her face. "We're still leaving, right?"

Brooke readied herself to respond, hoping not to capsize. "Yes, yes, of course. I'm just saying goodbye."

Jagger appeared behind Clint. "Well, give us a hug." She turned around and was enveloped into his thick corded arms, his beard brushing her shoulders. He smelled amazing. "Don't be a stranger. Just because you're all famous and shit doesn't mean you can't come back to the island. You're always welcome."

She blinked and hugged him tighter. "Thank you."

He released her, then the kids swarmed.

She hugged them each individually, then all together again. All of them except Talia, of course.

Talia hung back behind her cousins, waiting her turn, then she threw herself at Brooke, tears tumbling down her cheeks. "I don't want you to go," she sobbed against Brooke's shoulder. "I love you."

Brooke's heart officially shattered to pieces. Millions of them. And she knew the moment she drove away from this place—this haven—that she'd never be able to collect all those pieces and put them back into place again. The people here would keep those fragments. Which was where they belonged.

"You call me anytime, okay? Day or night. As soon as I get a new phone, I will send your dad the number. Whatever you need, you just have to ask. I will always be here for you, you got that?" She held Talia by the shoulders and looked into the little girl's wet blue eyes, waiting for her to nod.

She did. It was small and accompanied by sniffles, but she nodded. "Okay."

Brooke kissed her on the cheek. "That's my girl." When she lifted her gaze from Talia's face to Clint's, her belly did an agonizing flip. Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs, and everything inside her said, "Stay."

Blowing out a slow and deliberate breath between thinly parted lips, she mustered a smile. She could do this. "Thank you, Clint. For ... for everything. I owe you my life."

His smile was grim and sad, mirroring everything that she felt and more. The heat in his eyes betrayed the rest of his expression, though. The want. The need. The craving. She felt it all, too. But there was resignation and confliction there, as well. Hesitation and worry.

She didn't belong here.

Her presence disrupted their carefully protected way of life. It had already hurt his child, and he wasn't going to let that happen again.

"Always happy to rescue a mermaid," he said, clearing his throat and rolling his lips inward.

"Ferry leaves in thirty-five minutes," Inez blurted like an antsy pressurized can shooting spray. "We should get a move on."

Brooke nodded. "Right." Then she leaned in for a hug from Clint. It was awkward at first. Neither of them really knew where to put their hands or how hard to squeeze. But the longer she stayed in his arms, the easier it became. The more they held each other, the more they relaxed. He shuddered against her and buried his face in her neck. A small sob was all she got before he released her like she caught fire, sniffed and shoved his hands into his pockets. His eyes were glassy, but he also refused to look at her.

She exhaled, nodded and rallied a smile. "Thank you, everyone. For saving me."

Then she followed Inez to the car, taking one more moment to gaze back at her found family. At people she'd come to love and a life she desperately craved.

They waved. She waved.

Then she ducked her head and climbed into the car.

The gate opened as Inez approached it, and Brooke turned around to see all six children standing at the edge of the driveway staring at her, waving and crying. Clint stood behind them in the doorjamb. He was too far away for her to read his expression, but she was sure it was one of relief. Relieved that she was leaving and taking her chaos with her.

Inez drove through the gate, and Brooke watched it close behind them. They disappeared around the corner and before long, the pub and the cabins were too far away for her to see.

"It'll be nice to get back to normal, huh?" Inez asked as she turned off the laneway and onto the main road.

"Yeah ... normal," she breathed. It was strange, Brooke lived on the island for nearly two weeks, and this was her first time leaving the property. She had no idea where they were going.

They passed houses with thatch roofs, cabins made of logs, a few ramshackle constructions that looked like something built by Dr. Frankenstein with six different kinds of roofing materials and various editions. Fields with goats, sheep, cows and horses came into view, then a vineyard with a big house and several outbuildings perched on top of a small hill. Nothing but the horizon behind it. Next came an orchard, loaded with blossoms, hyper birds and hungry bees.

They came to a T in the road and at the fork, there were probably two dozen signs of varying sizes. Pottery Studio This Way. Blow Glass Next Left. Fresh Jams and Jellies at Nellie's Farm Stand. There was also a proper government issued one that said, "Ferry Terminal," and it pointed to the right.

Inez went left.

"Uh ... it says the ferry is that way," Brooke said, pointing like an idiot.

"Oh, I know, but this way is faster. Besides, I think we were being followed by some paparazzi back there. Best to get them off our tail."

Brooke narrowed her gaze. "Didn't you say you would have bodyguards and security for me?"

"Of course, silly. They're meeting us on the tarmac. I figured we didn't need them right now. I've missed you, wanted some girl time. And you know I won't let anything bad happen to you. Besides, they found the guy who pushed you off the boat. You're safe now."

Something weird tickled the back of Brooke's neck.

She scratched at it and watched the houses along the road grow further and further apart, until it was mostly trees, then just trees. There were no residences out this way. The evergreens towered above, creating dense shadows across the narrowing and pothole-riddled road.

A sign for a lookout came up.

Heaven's Leap Nature Park and Lookout.

Then another sign that said, Dead End.

"Uh, what are we doing here?" Brooke asked. "I thought you said this was a faster way to the ferry?"

"I also heard about this great lookout spot. I thought we could get some awesome content to properly announce your return. You know? Come on, it'll only take a minute."

"You said the ferry left in thirty-five minutes. I don't think we have time. And you know how I feel about that kind of content, Inez. I'm not an influencer. I don't really like social media."

"Then it'll be for my feed. Two minutes, I promise."

She pulled into the parking lot.

It was empty.

Just gravel, and worn logs nailed together to create a squat fence to cordon off the lot from the lookout. It was a make-your-own parking spot kind of situation. A dented green metal trashcan sat in one corner, and a few trails meandered off in various directions. There were three concrete picnic tables scattered throughout, but beyond them spanned just the glittering ocean.

"Come on," Inez said, shutting off the car and opening the door. "Isn't this place beautiful?"

"Inez, I'd rather just go."

Exhaling with impatience, Inez pivoted in her seat. "You're probably dealing with a lot. I get it. I think it'll be easier when we get home and settled again. Back into a routine. I've already re-booked all your standing appointments. Nails, hair, massage, Botox. I even managed to sweet talk Marcello at Vortex to squeeze you in for a facial and scrub tomorrow." Her smile was encouraging. "There's also a huge queue of people who want to interview you. I'm weeding through the email requests and only replying to the legit journalists. No more Tinsley McTavish bullshit."

"I … I don't think I'm ready for interviews. Not yet."

"Oh, no, of course, of course. We'll wait a few days. Get your hair done, your nails and have you polished and ready. Joel Fiske also wants to talk to you about his upcoming film. He thinks you'd be perfect for the lead."

"Joel Fiske, really?"

"Yeah! Isn't that exciting? So it depends if you want to do interviews before you land the part or after. Then you can promote the film at the interview. You know, two for one?"

Brooke studied her assistant and her bright-eyed eagerness. All she could muster was a press of her lips. The corners of her mouth refused to lift even a millimeter. "Thank you, Inez, for … for doing all of that. I appreciate it. I just ... I need some time before I get back to things. Okay?"

"Of course. Of course. But while we're here, let's go take some pictures, okay?" The door was already open, so she just unbuckled her belt and stepped out, slamming the driver's side door a moment later.

Brooke just stared ahead, a not quite right feeling growing in her belly.

There was nobody else around. Not a soul. Not even a freaking bird was anywhere to be seen.

Her heart and head weren't cooperating, either. Her heart remained back with Clint and Talia, while her brain tried to figure out why Inez wanted to come here so badly.

She hadn't even been paying attention to where Inez went until Brooke's door opened and Inez appeared, a gun pointed directly at Brooke. "Get out of the car."

Brooke lifted her gaze to her assistant's face. "Inez ..."

"Get. Out." She jerked the gun, her eyes hard. That's when Brooke noticed that Inez's eyes were green. A very similar shade of green to Brooke's in fact. Normally, she had muddy brown eyes. What?

Nodding, Brooke stepped out and stood up, the hair on her arms lifting.

The breeze off the water was warm, and the sun overhead and to the west beat down with benign heat. It was a perfect mid-May day, if not for the gun pointed at her and the broken heart in her chest.

"What's going on?"

Inez ushered her down the trail, worn by probably thousands of people over the years. The grass was dry and long, but had been trod over and trampled so many times it gave up the good fight, and now there was nothing but a rut of dirt. "Like you don't know," Inez sneered.

"I don't." Brooke's knees trembled as she scoured the ground for anything she could use as a weapon. A big rock, a stick, even a pinecone could work in a pinch. Jam it in her eye, or throw it at her head to distract her enough to run or get the gun.

But the ground was bare. Nothing but dirt and tall, dry grass.

They marched forward; the wind picked up and carried a chilly bite to it the closer to the edge of the cliff they got.

"Is it money?" Brooke asked, wracking her brain for why Inez would do this.

Inez scoffed. "No ... I mean, yes, but no."

Brooke spun around, facing Inez, but with her back to the ocean. She didn't want to look over the edge. The crashing sound of the surf below told her enough. It would be a long fall and jagged rocks waited at the bottom. She didn't need to see it to know that falling off this cliff wouldn't be the same as falling off the yacht.

"Then what?" she asked, buying herself time. "What is it?"

"You honestly don't know?"

"No. Help me. Help me understand what could possibly make you want to hurt me right now." Like a lightbulb flicking on to the point of blinding her, Brooke gasped. "You pushed me, didn't you? Off the yacht. It wasn't some crazed fan disguised as a waiter. It was you."

Inez's gaze grew harder.

"You framed someone? Is an innocent man going to prison? But ... he confessed. How did you—"

"Sextort a guy's kid and he'll pretty much do anything you say not to have his twelve-year-old daughter's naked body shared across the internet and to all the kiddie porn sites out there."

Bile coated the back of Brooke's tongue, and her gut spun. "What? But I didn't see you on the yacht. How—?"

Inez scoffed and rolled her eyes. "It's called a disguise, moron. And of course you didn't recognize me. You don't recognize anybody remotely beneath you. I wore a waiter's uniform, a black wig and glasses and became invisible to you."

Brooke swallowed, a wave of embarrassment sending pulsating heat into her cheeks. "I … I'm sorry."

"You don't get it, do you? You ... your whole family ruined my life. Your brother in high school, and you, blabbing to the authorities, which had my dad sent to prison."

"Your dad helped my father hide my mother's dead body. He was also just as dirty as my father was. Tangled up with gangs and drug traffickers. They deserved to go to prison."

A muscle ticked at the corner of Inez's jaw. "My mother made us move away."

Brooke considered for just a moment to say, "At least you still had a mother." But she thought better of it and kept quiet.

"We never could escape the scandal. Never could get back on our feet. She killed herself when I was nineteen." Her bottom lip quivered a little, and the gun in her outstretched hand shook.

Was Inez having second thoughts?

Was Brooke actually getting through to her?

"Oh, Inez, I'm so sorry. I had no idea. You never told me." She narrowed her gaze. "In fact, you've led me to believe your mother is still alive. You've gone to visit her before."

None of this made any sense. This was the first Brooke heard of Inez's mother killing herself. Why didn't she say anything until now? Why didn't she tell the truth?

Also, how long had she been planning all of this? To sexually extort a twelve-year-old and blackmail her father, that had to take time. A lot more time than the thirteen days since she pushed Brooke off the yacht.

Inez's gaze hardened again, and her hand stopped shaking. "You moved to L.A. and built yourself this dream life. Forgetting all the lives you destroyed."

"I turned in my father because he killed my mother."

"Only thinking about yourself. And that's how it's always been. Even as your assistant. Do you know what I have done for you? How hard I have worked for you? Securing you roles that you weren't going to be offered."

That itchy feeling returned.

Another lightbulb.

Brooke's head shook, and the taste of sick coated the back of her throat. "No. No, no, no. Inez, you didn't. How? Maren Gagne? Carol Warburton? Phoebe Watts? Please tell me you didn't. Please, Inez."

"You were better suited for that role than Maren. Everybody knew it. I cut her brakes." As Inez unraveled the truth, so did she, looking even more unstable with every passing admission.

That sick taste intensified. Bile and acid formed a thick film on the back of her tongue. Her stomach spun.

"Carol ... wasn't supposed to die. Or her husband. I just wanted to hurt her. Like Maren. Put her out of commission. But things escalated. They saw my face ... so ..." She shrugged.

Brooke's eyes widened in horror. "And Phoebe?"

"Slipped peanut oil into her smoothie and made sure none of the epi-pens were where she thought they were. After Carol died, I just decided it was easier. Cleaner, honestly."

"I ... I never wanted to get those roles because other actors died. I wanted to earn them. Oh God ..." She turned to the side and vomited up the grilled cheese she'd had for lunch with the kids. "You killed people, Inez."

"I did it for you. Even after everything you did, turning in my dad, I loved you. And yet, you were still this selfish, ungrateful bitch. No matter how many times I told you Flynn didn't deserve you, that you could do so much better, you just kept … ugh!" she growled. "Only when he started doing that shit to your phone did you finally believe me."

Brooke's mouth dropped open. "You deleted my messages, unplugged my charger and threw my phone in the pool?"

"Because you were being a fucking idiot. Did you ever clue in that it was me buying you gerbera daisies every week and putting them in your trailer?"

Brooke's mouth still hung open. She blinked at the woman she thought she knew. The woman she considered a friend and someone she could trust.

Inez scoffed. "Of course not. Your head is so far up your fucking ass you couldn't see what was right in front of you. You're just the same bitch who ruined my life the first time. Who made my mother kill herself. And who never saw me as anything more than her fucking slave," she screamed that last bit and the gun shook, her eyes taking on a maniacal gleam. "I"ve wanted to be like you ever since we were kids, Brooke. I idolized you. I even forgave you for turning in my dad when you gave me a job. I thought she loves me, too. We were like sisters. I ... wanted to be you. And I thought I had my chance, you know? I booked an agent, and they were starting to get me small roles."

Brooke knew nothing about that. Why didn't Inez say anything? Why didn't she ask Brooke for help?

"I dyed my hair the same color as yours. I'm wearing green contacts."

"Inez ... I had no idea you were interested in acting. I can help you. Let me help you."

Inez's head shook stiffly. "No. It's too late for that. You're not going to help me. Not now that I'm holding a gun on you and you know that I framed that guy for trying to kill you. You'll turn me in. Just like you turned in your dad. You don't care about anybody else but yourself. Meanwhile, everyone fucking loves you. I fucking love you." Tears rolled down Inez's face, making tracks through her foundation.

Brooke's heartbeat thrashed violently in her ears. She couldn't hear the surf below. Couldn't see anything beyond Inez's wild eyes and the barrel of the gun pointed at her.

"Inez ..." Brooke held out her hands. "Please, don't do this. Give me the gun. I ... I won't turn you in. I promise."

Inez's head shook again, her gaze darting frantically.

Brooke was taller than her assistant and more muscular, too. She also trained in hand-to-hand combat for a few of her movies. But there was a real gun involved here. Not a prop gun, or a gun with blanks. She wasn't confident in her abilities enough to try.

Inez had her trapped. Between a fall to her death on the rocks below and a bullet in the head.

A weird flash near the car drew her attention. She glanced over, sly enough that Inez wouldn't notice. There, hidden just behind the log fence, was Clint.

Relief flooded her veins until she felt dizzy.

How? How did he know where to find her?

And more importantly, how was he going to rescue her—again—without getting himself hurt?

Her mind instantly went to Talia.

That child did not need to lose another parent.

And she wouldn't.

Not over Brooke's dead body.