Chapter 44

44

Brandt had survived the press conference. He'd delivered the speech Alex had written, answered questions from the media—about his family and even about Heather and her family, as Alex had asked them for anything they wanted to be included so they didn't have to deal with the press themselves—and then he had retreated back to his parents' house.

The crime scene.

His parents hadn't been there. Just he and Mac and Alex. Powell had stayed at the hospital with Gunnar. And to be there, for Heather.

Powell was panicking over that woman, too. Everyone was.

Heather had spiked a higher fever not even three hours ago. From what Brandt had learned from Powell, Heather was barely conscious and was being pumped full of incredibly strong antibiotics right now.

That woman hadn't deserved this. Brandt would never be able to repay her for what she had done for Powell. Either time.

Or his parents. He was fully convinced his parents were alive because of what Heather had done that night.

When he was finally past the cops guarding his parents' house—it wasn't an active crime scene any longer, but the cops were still around—he found his oldest brother in the living room. Mac was just standing there staring, a broken look on his face like Brandt had never seen before.

At the bloodstains next to their parents' couch.

"Mac? You good?"

"Not sure I ever will be again, baby bro," Mac said quietly. "Still trying to wrap my head around all of it."

"I know. I just spoke with Powell. Gunnar's doing better, Dan's been upgraded to stable."

"And the vampire goddess queen?"

"Heather is…Powell said they are pumping her full of antibiotics. She definitely has a bacterial infection. They'll know more in a few hours."

"That woman could die," Mac said starkly. "Because of those bastards. And their greed. With all the hell she has been through, she could still die. Those little girls could lose their mother. Because of greed. And everyone is just left waiting. Praying."

"Because of the quest for power," a voice said behind Mac. Brandt looked past his older brother's shoulder. Meyra's cousin Charlotte stood there. One of Powell's besties. "I can't really work this scene, considering what happened to me because of the same people, but I'm here to supervise, until Ashlie and Tom get here. How are your parents?"

"They are back at Houghton's," Mac answered. "What were you saying? About power?"

"I don't think it was greed. I think it was a quest for power. The rush of being in control." There were memories in Charlotte's big green eyes. The same eyes she shared with Meyra.

Nightmares, that was what it was.

He'd left Meyra with her father and stepmother at the hotel. She was waiting for him to get back to her as soon as he could.

Just knowing she was there mattered. He loved that woman.

Once he had her back in Wyoming, he wasn't waiting any longer.

What had happened to his family just illustrated one thing—life was too short, too precarious. A man could lose everything in an instant.

Brandt wasn't about to let Meyra get away now.

Mac was back to staring at the blood.

Brandt got it. He remembered when he had almost died, when it had been his blood staining the hardwood of Clint and Maggie's place. He had been back there. A perverse part of him had had him staying in that house for a few months back then.

He'd had to. To take that control back.

To erase the memories of that day.

A foolish quest. He would never forget. Just like Mac and Alex would never forget listening to what had happened to their family as it happened. And knowing they were completely helpless to stop it.

"Don't step in the evidence," Charlotte said softly. Then she paused. "Look…don't think about it right now. Focus on getting your family back to rights. It gets easier. It takes time, but it gets easier."

Mac just half nodded. But there was such a look in his eyes, Brandt couldn't help himself. He pulled his brother closer. And hugged him.

Sometimes, Mac thought he had to be the big strong one. The one who could handle anything. But no one could handle everything by themselves all the time.

It just wasn't humanly possible. But Mac was the one used to being in charge. To having the power. Of making things the way he wanted them, and having the arrogance that knowledge brought.

Mac had learned just how powerless he truly was.

It had changed his brother—Brandt would always know that.

It had changed them all.

What had happened to their family had made them all realize the truth. No one was ever really fully in control.

Brandt followed Mac's gaze. To the end of the cream couch that had sat in their parents' parlor for a good decade now.

There was a perfect handprint in the blood on the upholstery.

Most likely a woman's.

Either their sister's or Heather's.

Brandt would never forget the sight of that bloody handprint and what it represented.

Alex had his hand on Brandt and Mac's shoulders now. "We're here to take an inventory of the damage," Alex said. "For Mom. She doesn't want to come back home until the house is…repaired. Down here and upstairs in Powell's old room. Mig broke in through the balcony windows. That behemoth didn't fit anywhere else."

Brandt nodded. He'd met the head of the SWAT team who had helped save his family at the hospital that morning, hovering over two of Heather's sisters. Commander Miguel Rodriguez made Brandt feel dainty, that guy.

"There's blood up there, too. Mig…took the guy out. Guy is going to live, though," Alex said. "I heard he's already talking."

Brandt just nodded, as he followed Charlotte through his parents' home. Where he had grown up. Been lucky—he knew he had had a privileged upbringing here.

And he wanted to give his children that same kind of love someday.

They made a list of the damage and grabbed clothing for both of their parents. Then Brandt almost forced Mac to drive him back to the hospital to spend some time with Powell. Mac had walked to their parents' from where he had been camping at Alex's. Mac had his own place in Hughes Heights, but he wasn't living in it yet.

Alex said Mac was helping him watch over Heather's family for now.

That Mac felt he owed that woman that much.

Brandt would never forget the pain on his oldest brother's face when a tiny dark-haired girl popped her head over Alex's fence and asked "Neighbor Alex" if he knew when her mommy was coming home. Because she really, really missed her mommy right now. And Baby Ember really needed their mommy very soon, too.

The cousin watching her had tears in her eyes when she explained to Heather's three-year-old that they just didn't know yet, but the doctors were taking really good care of her mommy now. Brandt would never forget the worry on that precious little girl's face the moment she gave Neighbor Alex the hug he asked for.

He didn't think his brothers ever would, either.

Two or three of those bastards who had hurt his family had escaped. Neither Brandt nor his brothers were taking that lightly. Not for a moment. A big part of him wanted to be out there looking for those bastards himself. For his sister, his parents, for Heather and her innocent daughters. For all of them.

Brandt left his brothers at Alex's and then headed back to the hotel, where he'd left the woman who had his heart.

He just needed to be with her now. No matter what.