Chapter 64

64

Brandt's moment came when the asshole Kurt leaned over him for the last time.

It took him no more than two seconds to lash out with the gun in his hand. The metal slammed into Kurt's skull. And made a sickening crack.

Brandt was a damned strong man, dangerous. He'd made sure of it.

He'd hit hard enough—Kurt was probably never going to get on his feet again.

Brandt grabbed the unconscious man and flung him. Pulled himself to his full six-foot-six frame.

And looked at the two men staring at him now.

The one cursed and brought up the gun in his hand. Pulled the trigger.

Brandt was already moving. He felt fire cross his arm, but it wasn't enough to stop him. Brandt pulled the gun in his hand up and made every bullet count.

Ashton fell to the floor. Next to his good pal, Kurt.

Ashton would never get up again. He stared lifeless at the ceiling.

Then he looked at the older man. He didn't have a clue who he was, but the cops could figure that out.

He checked good old Kurt next. There was a faint pulse. It was faint, but it was there.

He hadn't hit him hard enough to kill him. His attention landed on Kurt's arm.

On the watch there.

It was distinctive. It was familiar.

And it had been stolen.

He slipped it free and turned it over . "Mason, on our thirtieth. You are my heart always and forever, Melissa." Four birthstones, four dates, surrounding a larger date. His parents' wedding anniversary. His and his siblings' birthdates.

All the proof he needed. If he had ever been in doubt to begin with.

"Live…with honor, kid." A broken voice said behind him. As Brandt went toward the closet where Meyra waited. "Just…do the right thing. Protect the ones you love."

He looked back at the older man. The hired killer. What was he supposed to feel right now? "I intend to. Who are you?"

"A man without a soul. Who…I am getting what I deserve. Tell…tell her and the girls…I loved them so much, and I am sorry."

He passed out right in front of Brandt's eyes, a woman's name on his lips.

Brandt fought vomiting. He yanked open the closet, glad Meyra hadn't seen this.

"Meyra, little one—" Brandt's curse echoed off the walls when he realized…

Meyra wasn't in there at all.

Nothing remained but strips of tape and a piece of sheetrock.

She hadn't panicked.

She had gotten away. But that didn't mean she was safe. He needed to find her fast. Two of those men and that older bastard—they were still out there.

And Meyra had seen their faces.

"Go."

Brandt turned. The older man was awake again. Watching him. "Find her, Talley's daughter. And be…happy. Make every day count."

Brandt went.