Her mother had loved her father, though. Loved him desperately, with everything inside her. The thought that her father may have betrayed that love had helped to destroy the foundation of everything she had believed in as a child.
Her mother may not have believed it, but her father’s marriage to Luce had certainly given others reason to believe it.
As for Luce, she’d always been such a quiet, easily led personality, but her loyalty to her mother had never been questioned. Then again, Vinny Maddox’s loyalty to his wife hadn’t been questioned, either—just his fidelity.
She pushed the list back to Jessie before turning to Jazz. “I need to go home and get my things at least,” she told him, lifting her gaze to his and meeting the blue fire in it unflinchingly.
His brows lowered broodingly. “It’s too dangerous, Kenni.”
“I really don’t give a damn, Jazz.” The retort was delivered without anger. “You’re pushing too hard, too fast. Don’t do this right now.”
The tension in the room ratcheted up by several degrees, and as she stared into his gaze she could see he had every intention of refusing. As though she were a child too weak to defend herself, too stupid to know she was in danger.
“You know—” Rising to her feet, she faced the men coolly. “—I’m still alive, ten years after the order went out to kill me. I believe I can survive a trip home to collect my things. Or.” A mocking smile tipped her lips. “You will find out exactly what a bitch I can be.” Her gaze locked with Jazz’s again. “Is that what you really want?”
“It’s too dangerous, Kenni…”
She didn’t give him a chance to finish. Turning on her heel she stalked from the kitchen. She wasn’t some damned china doll he could set on a shelf and expect to stay there. Gunny had taught her to take care of herself if he’d taught her nothing else.
She couldn’t afford to leave the little house she rented unprotected for long while her laptop and the DVR for her cameras were still hidden there. She couldn’t take the chance that someone would search the house and find either. She needed to get to them first.
It was a damned good thing she knew where Jazz kept the spare set of truck keys.
She’d found them by accident the day before, taped beneath the drawer of his nightstand. Okay, so it wasn’t so much by accident as it was by snooping. She’d actually been searching for a weapon when she’d found the keys.
She wasn’t exactly dressed for what she was planning. Sandals weren’t the most desirable footwear for climbing from a balcony, but she’d had to run with greater vulnerabilities before, she was certain. She just couldn’t think of a particular instance at the moment.
She didn’t give him and his friends time to consider what she might do. Going straight to the bedroom, Kenni moved to the balcony. There was a very narrow portion of the balcony invisible from the television room—and hopefully from Marcus and Essie’s sight.
Sliding over the side she balanced for a moment on the edge before turning, gripping a rail, and lowering herself as far as possible. Wrapping her legs around the support post and working herself to the edge of the patio, she dropped to the ground, flattened herself against the side of the house for a moment, then ran for the front drive.
Jazz’s truck was still parked where he’d left it. The door was unlocked and the motor running, thanks to the remote, before she reached it. She jumped in, adjusted the seat for her shorter stature with hurried movements, and within seconds was speeding along the gravel road. She’d warned him she could turn into a bitch, and he hadn’t listened. Maybe next time he’d shut his mouth and open his ears.
After hitting the main road, Kenni didn’t stay on it long. A quick turn along a hidden path and within minutes she’d reached one of the spots she’d chosen to hide a survival pack. Weapons, especially several of the survival knives she preferred, along with snug black pants, T-shirt, and boots that laced to her ankles were packed inside the old army backpack.
Within moments she was dressed and back behind the wheel of the truck. The wide path wound along a parallel course to the main road without coming within sight of it. Several miles from town she hit a shortcut. If Slade and Jazz were following her, and no doubt they were, she’d still manage to beat them to the house by several minutes.
Easing the truck into the alley behind the house, Kenni cut the engine then jumped from the cab and worked her way along the border of brush and miniature trees that grew along the privacy fencing between her rental and the neighbor’s home.
She was in the back door within a minute and staring around the shadowed kitchen in disbelief.
It was trashed.
Fuck.
She had the laptop and DVR carefully hidden, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t been found. She had to have both to access the recorded feed and learn who had accessed the house and what they had done.
Small handguns were tucked at the small of her back and her ankle, obvious places to search. A six-shot derringer was tucked in the upper cup of her bra, a KA-BAR between her shoulders, and a mini bowie knife in the bottom of her boot.
She slid the baby Glock at the small of her back free. Moving across the room, careful to avoid the scattered cereal thrown over the floor. Just in case whoever had trashed the house was still there. The early-warning crunch of cereal against the floor would alert anyone who might be there waiting for her.
Holding the weapon close to her thigh, Kenni made her way across the kitchen to the doorway.
The house was laid out with no hallways; it was one of the reasons she’d chosen this particular rental. Looking from the kitchen doorway into the large living room also afforded her a view of the open bedroom door.
The living room was completely demolished, more so than the kitchen. There went her security deposit. Holes had been punched into the living room wall, following the camera wires through the room.
Dammit.
Slipping along the wall, careful not to brush against it, she made her way to the bedroom. Pausing, she lifted the weapon to her shoulder, bent low, and slid into the room.
It was empty. Except for the holes punched into the walls, wires pulled free, and clothes strewn around the floor. Clothes that were sliced, ripped, then dropped carelessly to the hardwood.
Moving to the largest hole in the wall she stared at it with narrowed eyes. The decoy DVR was gone, but the copper clip leading from the crawl space beneath the floor to the decoy was intact. The main DVR was still in place.
A faint, almost imperceptible crunch of dry cereal had her moving. Rolling beneath the bed, the Glock held ready, nearly holding her breath, Kenni waited.
“Fuck, Cord, either Jazz’s little teacher forgot to clean house—for about six months—or some asshole came calling.” Amused, Deacon didn’t bother lowering his voice.
Kenni wanted to close her eyes, wanted to let that voice take her back to a time when fear hadn’t been her constant companion and her brothers had been larger than life.
“My guess, some asshole came calling,” Sawyer replied. His voice was so serious, so somber.
She didn’t remember a day Sawyer had been somber when she was younger. Like the others, he was once carefree and so filled with fun.
“Do we know who the asshole is and why he felt the need to throw her cereal all over the floor?” Deacon asked at the sound of more cereal crunching beneath careless feet.
“It’s a damned good thing we weren’t trying to sneak in,” Cord growled at that point. “Would the two of you shut up for a minute and let me think?”
“I don’t know, Cord, that would be a hell of a long minute if you asked me,” Deacon informed him. “We might bust waiting.”
“I might bust both your damned heads if you don’t shut the fuck up anyway,” Cord snapped as he stepped into the bedroom.