Chapter 64

64

Trey was so damned furious he wanted to rip the men around him apart. But he couldn't do that. They were already watching him like he'd let them down. Like it was his fault Spencer and Bryce were dead.

Instead of that bitch Heather's. It was her fault those guys were dead.

She'd killed them both. Fucking Heather Coleson.

What kind of bitch could kill a man six inches taller than she was and a hundred pounds heavier, with nothing more than a box cutter and a pipe, then knock out a guy even bigger? They hadn't been able to get Bryce out of there in time. They just hadn't.

Trey would never forget how it had hurt to make the decision to leave a guy behind to die in the very fire they had started. But he'd had to. Bryce was too damned big to get out of there like that.

He'd made them leave Bryce behind.

Now, every time the rest of them looked at him, the knowledge was in their eyes. They were blaming him now. Trey wouldn't call Bryce a friend or nothing, but they had worked together for more than ten years.

Spencer had been dead long before the fire ever got Bryce. Because of Fucking Heather Coleson.

That woman wasn't human. She was a monster. They should have taken her out years ago. When she'd first become a problem. But no, Steve had wanted to play with her. And Steve had been the man in charge.

Then. He wasn't the man in charge now, though. Trey was. And he had to figure out what to do now.

She was ruining everything he had worked for, everything he had wanted for years.

"The realtor got away first?" his father asked. "She's back safe with her family?"

"Yes. Powell Barratt escaped. She never should have been here in the first place, but those dumbasses weren't watching the fucking door to that house like I'd told them to." And he was still pissed over that. He'd given them clear orders. Now two of them were dead. And after losing Steve and Joey and Luke like they had—they needed people to do the job. People they trusted.

Where was he supposed to find more? The fucking TSP kept picking them off like dogs.

"Did Heather recognize you before she escaped? How badly was she hurt?" his father asked, an angry look on his face.

"I don't think she did." Trey had kept his hat on, kept turned away from her. Except when the room was darkened. He'd wanted to beat the shit out of her, and he had.

It had felt so good too.

He probably would have beaten her to death, at least kicked her damned chest in, if his dad hadn't stepped in and made him stop.

"Good. What about the Barratt woman? Can she identify you? Hell, she was the damned HOA president two years ago. I must have spoken with her half a dozen times," his father said. "You should have been more careful. I told you not to do this. I didn't raise you to be like this. To hurt and terrify young women like this."

Hell, he'd disappointed his old man again. Big fucking surprise. Trey had made a career out of doing that, after all.

"Did she recognize you when you were in there?" Trey asked.

"Not that I know of."

But his father wasn't good at the criminal side of things. He could have made a mistake. Hell, Trey wished Spencer hadn't called his dad to see what they'd done, to ask how the OPJ would burn if they lit it on fire. The other guy had just been screwing with Trey. Spencer had always had daddy issues. He'd wanted Trey's dad to see what Trey was up to him, just to be a fucking prick.

Well, Spencer was dead now. He had no issues at all.

Those two women had seen Trey, seen his father. Maybe. He didn't think they had gotten a good look at him and his dad—but who the hell knew?

With Heather a cop, she could put it together. Especially if his father had fucked up. He'd have to make some phone calls. Find out what the TSP was saying now. At least he still had some of his contacts at the TSP. If nothing else, Trey was going to get his father and the brat kid out of the state. Fast.

He didn't want his dad to go to prison for his shit. He just didn't.

"Watch your back, Trey. I'd hate for something to happen to you." His father had that panicked look again. Trey hated when his old man looked at him like that.

His father loved him. Trey had always known that. Even if no one else ever had. His father didn't need to be near this mess. It just wasn't safe. If his dad had just minded his own damned business, hadn't started asking questions about OPJ and whether it really was made from Solpalmitraln, none of this would be a problem now.

"I don't think those women recognized me." If they had, he was screwed. Every plan he had made would be destroyed. "Why don't you get the kid and leave town for a while? So you don't get caught up in this shit? I'm sorry, Dad. They walked right into us, and Brice and Spencer were stupid fucks."

He wasn't going to let anything happen to his father. He just wasn't.

If Bryce and Spencer were the price he had to pay, then so be it.

There was nothing Trey wouldn't do. No one would stand in his way.

Not Gunnar Erickson.

Or Fucking Heather Coleson.

He looked at his father. Resolve filled him. "We'll do what we have to do."