After every room was searched, I confirmed she wasn’t home, and no one else was lurking. I proceeded to search the house from top to bottom. When nothing was uncovered, I sent out a quick text to Quentin to stay guard, and I bunkered down to wait.

Chapter Eleven

Keiran

“Do you see these gloves?” I pulled the black and gray leather material from my back pockets and waved them tauntingly for her to see.

They were still new and unused. I bought them the day I decided revenge was served best in its purest form.

“If you ever see these gloves again, it will mean the end for you. It won’t be swift, and it won’t be painless, but I can guarantee that it will be really messy.”

It wasn’t until after midnight that Mrs. Risdell finally made an appearance. The solitude afforded a lot of time to plot without the influence of Mario or the distraction of… everyone else.

“I’ll have you arrested!” she screeched.

“So you’ve said.”

“You’re a murderer.”

“Yes, I am… but I did not kill your daughter. You won’t believe me, and frankly, I don’t care, but earlier today, you mentioned evidence.”

“Why would you care what evidence I have if you didn’t kill her?”

“Because I’m not entirely innocent. Your daughter wasn’t either, but burning her alive was not my work.” I’ve never felt the need to explain myself before. I wasn’t all that sure that was what I was doing now. “But it doesn’t really matter,” I added, regaining myself. “Tell me what you know.”

“I don’t know anything. I said it to scare you.”

Is she fucking serious? I leaned down and braced my hands on the kitchen chair she was currently tied to. “Do I look like I want to play the ‘Whose Dumber Than Who’ game?”

“It’s true. I don’t know anything, and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

I slowly and calmly reached behind my back and pulled out the long hunting knife I kept from my past life, and a rag I’d found in the garage. “Well, that wouldn’t be very smart of you.” I yanked her head back, stuffed the gag in her mouth, and brought the knife down swiftly. Her muffled screams carried on long after the blade was lodged in the wood between her legs.

“The next one goes in your knee cap. I’ll dismember every part of your body and will keep you from ever walking, talking, hearing, touching, or tasting.” I removed the gag from her mouth. “Are you listening now?”

Her breathing shuddered as her body shook, and she looked up at me with fear. “Who are you?”

“I’m someone that not even your worst nightmare wants to fuck with.”

“But you’re just a boy.”

“Well, then I guess that makes me a unique breed. Tell me what I want to know. The clock is ticking.”

“I told you, I—”

The knife was against her face drawing a thin, red line against the painted and powered skin of her cheek. Her shaking became uncontrollable and continued even when I withdrew the knife. “Oh, God. Please don’t.”

“Are you going to make me have to kill you?”

“No.” She shook her head vehemently.

“Then give me what I came for.”

I knew the exact moment the fight left her. The threat of death was enough to persuade most, but the thought of living life physically impaired was the most persuasive.

“In my purse,” she directed. I continued to stare at her until she nodded her insistence. “In the inside pocket is an envelope marked with my name.”

I left her side to retrieve the medium sized, designer bag that was strewn on the floor. When she had come home, I took her by surprise and managed to restrain her with little fight, but not before she had tossed her purse at me.

To be honest, I hated it. It was hard being victimized in your own home, but it was just as hard to be the aggressor when you didn’t want to be. I wasn’t by any stretch of the imagination a psychopath. I didn’t enjoy stalking and terrorizing but I did what any person would do when threatened. I retaliated.

I grabbed the envelope from her purse, and instead of ripping into it immediately, I eyed her up and down. There was something I needed to say before I saw whatever it was in there that had her convinced I had killed her daughter.

“I’m sorry you lost your daughter.”

It was the most I was willing to give her. Saying that I regretted her daughter was dead would be a lie. Anya chose to be a part of a very sinister plan against Monroe and she lost.

Mrs. Risdell’s face was masked in confusion before she seemed to catch on. She didn’t nod or acknowledge what I had said as she continued to stare. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t here to make amends. I needed to save my ass.

I opened the envelope and ripped out the only thing inside.

A card.

A fucking sympathy card that read ‘Sorry For Your Loss’ on the front in colorful cursive print. I flipped open the card and almost swallowed my tongue.

A picture—with enough evidence to put more than just me away for a long time—was inside. The edges of the card crumbled under my tight grip when thick bold writing on the inside caught my eye:

You’re welcome.

* * *

I’d left her house as silently as I had come. Twenty minutes later, I was sitting in the hospital parking lot, unsuccessfully beating down panic and the feeling of failure.

A game plan was needed fast. Dash was on speed dial, so in less than ten seconds, I had him on the line. “Dash, we need to meet.”

His voice was full of sleep when he growled, “What? Right now?”

“What do you think man?”

“Where?”

“The hospital. I’m already here.”

I hung up the phone and peered down at the photo again, studying it, and hoping it might change and that I hadn’t royally screwed up. I had the good sense to know when I was fucked, but now I’d made the mistake of bringing my friends down with me.

I waited outside for Dash to arrive, and less than twenty minutes later, he pulled up wearing a grim expression and with bed mussed hair. Lately, his attitude had been worse than a bear with a thorn in his paw and a certain voluptuous redhead had everything to do with it.

“What was so important I needed to be out here at one in the morning?”

“She still isn’t talking to you?”

“I don’t want to talk about her. She’s nothing to me.”

“You don’t act like it.”

“Look, I did what you asked, and now I moved on from it. You got whatever the hell it was you needed out of Monroe and cleared your name. It’s over and done with.”

“Except you caught feelings.”

His expression contorted with barely concealed rage before he expertly recovered. “I didn’t catch feelings. She was an amazing fuck.”

For some reason, hearing him speak about Willow like that, and knowing Monroe wouldn’t like it, pissed me off.

And then, the realization that I wanted to defend her best friend to make her happy pissed me off. I wasn’t her savior, and I wasn’t her friend. I tried that route, and she stabbed me in the back the first chance she got for trying to protect her.

I had no right to be pissed with Dash. I put him in the situation to mess up a chance with the only girl he’d ever been crazy about despite his firm denial. I knew it was only his ego talking. The girl was definitely giving him a run for his money when any other girl just wanted to run with his money.

It was the reason why I decided to break my own rule.

“Dash… I know it won’t help but… if I could go back…”

His grim expression was quickly replaced with astonishment. I wouldn’t bother to say more because apologies weren’t something I ever did. In fact, this may have been the only time I ever had. There were many times I’d come close to giving in to the torment in Monroe’s eyes but never did.

I never would either.