Veils: A Killers Novel, Book 4

by Asher, Brynne

  Her features are lit up by the moon now—her eyes determined, full of lust … and something else I don’t want to think about. Something I’ve never seen in anyone when they glance my way. If I let that sink in, I’m fucked.

  Not that I’m not already fucked by getting involved with my boss’s daughter.

  I put it all out of my mind and lean down to run my tongue across her collarbone. It doesn’t matter that we grew up close to each other, we didn’t run in the same circles and she went to private school. We couldn’t be more different. “I remember the first time I laid eyes on you. I knew you were trouble.”

  Her expression melts into a small smile. “I did everything I could to get your attention for months. You never gave me a second look.”

  I gaze into her deep blues. “You’re too young for me now—you were really too young for me a year ago.”

  She presses her body into mine, a body that’s never been touched before I took it for my own.

  “You couldn’t resist me.” She sounds proud of herself. And she’s right, I couldn’t.

  I don’t say so because I need to do everything I can to put her off—there’s no way she’s ruining her life by staying here. I won’t allow it. “Don’t do anything, not yet. Let’s come up with a plan together.”

  “I love you, Easton Barrett.”

  My eyes flare and my gut twists like it does every time she says that.

  She sighs and runs her hand down my chest, killing me slowly. “Nothing you can do or say is going to change my mind. Whether I tell my parents tomorrow or in a couple months, I’m not leaving you. And I know you love me, too. It’s okay, you don’t have to say it back.”

  Fuck me, she’s right about that, too.

  I look into her eyes and realize I’m in deep because I can’t say no to her. “You can stay for an hour, but that’s it.”

  She smiles like she won the damn lottery.

  She’s crazier than I thought because I’m the farthest thing from a jackpot.

  * * *

  Nine years and eight months ago

  “Get the fuck off my property.”

  I look at the man who’s treated me more like a son than anyone ever has. The man who gave me a job when I needed one, slid extra money into my paychecks when he knew I had to pay tuition at the shit junior college where I’ve been slowly chipping away at night classes, and now, the man who has two reasons to hate me.

  “I’m not leaving ‘til I talk to her, Kipp.”

  “I can’t even look at you,” he seethes.

  “I don’t know what’s going on, but I know she wouldn’t do this to me—”

  “She’s gone.”

  His words hit me like a Mack truck going eighty around a bend.

  “Where is she?”

  “Juilliard honored her admission. She left with Jen this morning—wouldn’t let her mama or me take her. She made her statement to the police, then barely said goodbye.”

  My eyes fall and all I see is her in that hospital bed, wrecked and shattered in a way that had not one thing to do with a broken rib or mar on her porcelain skin. It was the last time I could get to her because her family fucking cut me out.

  “I won’t allow a Barrett to ruin our lives.” He moves away from the open front door but I can’t bring my feet to follow him. I’m numb and angry and empty. Before I know it, he’s back and shoving a slip of paper against my chest. “Take it. Take it and stay the hell away from my family. I never want to see your face again.”

  I’m forced to look down at the paper. A check. For one hundred thousand dollars.

  “I don’t give a shit what you do with it but stay away from my daughter.”

  I take in all the zeros put together next to my name. It’s more than I could contemplate in a lifetime.

  When I look back to the man I’ve just lost all respect for, I hold the check up between us. “Is this all she’s worth to you?”

  “Take it,” he spits. “Go to school. Start a new life. I don’t care what you do as long as it’s far away from here. She doesn’t want anything to do with you.”

  “I love her.”

  He ignores me. “Get the hell off my property.”

  “I love her, Kipp.”

  “You come close to my daughter again, I’ll come after you and this time I won’t let Ellie or Jen stop me.”

  I don’t even think twice. I rip his ugly bribe in two and then rip it again. When the pieces fall at his pretentious feet, his face reddens. “I might have Barrett blood running in my veins but I will not be bought. I’m not that kind of man. And I’ll say it a third time—I love her. I did everything I could to stand by her—all the other shit is not my fault.”

  “The police are lookin’ for you and you’d best cooperate. Do us all a favor,” his voice turns rough, “leave her be. She’s been through enough.”

  That’s the first thing he’s said that I agree with.

  She’s been through more than anyone should experience in a lifetime.

  But I don’t get a chance to fight for Ellie or agree she deserves better.

  Kipp slams the door in my face and, with that, I’ve lost. And it has nothing to do with what the police want to question me about.

  Yeah, I’ve lost everything.

  * * *

  Four months ago

  I almost lost her today.

  For the second time.

  Not that she was mine to lose this time. She wasn’t. She married that motherfucking shithead who almost killed her tonight.

  I can’t believe I’m here. I don’t even recognize myself. I’ve hated her for so long, I’ve forgotten what it was like to love her.

  It’s two in the morning and I’m sitting outside her mansion of a house situated in this absurd gated community. I was able to slip through security behind another car with no problem and the guard waved at me like I belong here. I guess no one questions a Benz.

  Good thing I didn’t drive my truck. In this neighborhood, they’d send SWAT after me in the rusted-out beast I still prefer over this G Class.

  Jen’s Rover is here which means her special agent lover is probably here, too. Ellie’s not alone, even though, from the outside, she looks like it.

  The pictures I’ve seen through the years say it all. She’s not who she used to be. Her smile isn’t hers. Her eyes don’t shine like they did for me. She might be ten years older and all woman now, but she’s not who she was.

  Doesn’t matter how much I hate her, I accept half that burden.

  And she’s got a child now.

  Fuck.

  I need to leave.

  I shouldn’t have moved back—should’ve brought my mom to California. What the hell was I thinking?

  Ghosts.

  I swear, if I don’t watch out, they’ll eat me alive.

  * * *

  Chapter 1

  A Decade

  There are times in life where you’ll fall deeper into despair.

  Those are the days that make you who you are.

  Embrace them.

  Ellie

  It’s the moment we realize, God has a solution.

  He’s full of shit.

  There’s no solution.

  If anyone is an example of that, it’s Faye Barrett.

  Blessed are they who mourn, for they shall be comforted.

  Bullshit. Years of mourning and the most I can be thankful for is numbness. When it’s not stabbing at my heart, I’m at least grateful for that … a shot of Novocain to my soul. Those are the days I can pretend I’m fine, even normal.

  We will deeply miss our friend in Christ, Faye.

  Tears prick at my eyes and I push my Marc Jacobs sunglasses up my nose, happy I thought to grab a pair of shades even though the skies are as dreary as this old cemetery out in the middle of the Texas hills. It’s as gloomy as what has become my life. At least I have Griffin. After all that’s happened, I’m grateful Robert was a shit dad. My son will never know what he was missing out on in a fa
ther and I’ll be everything for him. Griff is all I have now that Faye is gone. My secret visits with her were the only bright spot in my life besides my son.

  Yes. I’ll miss my friend Faye more than ever.

  In honor of our sister, let’s bow our heads in prayer…

  From the corner of my eye, I see him shift his weight. It doesn’t matter how much I try to ignore his presence. Trust me, I’m trying. I knew I’d see him today. He not only loved his mother, he revered her the way we were preached to honor our parents every Sunday morning. His mother deserves it—she’s a saint.

  Was.

  She was a saint who was put through hell by her ex-husband and his family—but not by her son.

  Trig.

  Short for Trigger—a nickname for Easton Barrett. He was known to have the gentlest trigger finger, resulting in the best shot in North Texas when he was young. He grew up a mile from our land, but unlike my family’s ranch, his was a compound of nothing but filth—and not the kind made from dirt. When I was young, we were told to stay away because nothing good happened on Barrett land.

  My dad was right. I had no idea just how right until after I turned eighteen … but he was also wrong. Faye was a gentle soul and loving friend. I asked her a couple weeks ago during one of my clandestine visits why she never left that godforsaken man that was her husband.

  She looked away like she was in another world and shook her head, explaining, “I had my Easton.”

  That was before she took a turn.

  I’ve wondered what horrors she lived through, but never got an answer because that was my last conversation with Faye Barrett.

  I loved her.

  I loved her so much I came here today to say goodbye, even knowing I’d see the man who haunts my heart.

  During the service, I tucked myself away in the back of the little church. It was easy to ignore him then. Now, not so much, but being here to say goodbye to Faye is worth it.

  Ring out the welcome and swing open the gates.

  Trig shifts again. It’s easy to sense. I hate that I’m still attuned to his every movement after all these years.

  Those who went before her are waiting.

  Fuck. I bite the inside of my lip so hard, I taste copper.

  One more soldier enters our Kingdom.

  I thought I could do this. After all that happened with Robert, I thought I was at a point in my life that I could handle anything.

  Her trials are past.

  Trig slips his hands into his pockets.

  He’s nothing like he used to be, outfitted in a custom-tailored black suit—hiding the wild side I fell so hard for when I was still a girl. My insides twist and feelings I’ve worked hard to bury begin to float to the surface only to snake around my neck.

  I fight for my breath.

  Shit. I was wrong.

  It doesn’t matter what I’ve lived through, being this close to him is still painful.

  And they sing “Amazing Grace.”

  I can’t help myself. I barely shift my head and slide my eyes as far as they’ll allow behind my shades only to find his icy blue ones set on me.

  Ring out the welcome.

  Not looking away, he clears his throat—deep and guttural. That shouldn’t send a shiver down my spine, but it does.

  Dammit.

  She’s home at last. Amen.

  “Amen.” I utter the word, echoing the pastor’s as I make eye contact for the first time in a decade with the man I didn’t think I could live without.

  Trig is forced to look away when someone steps between us to offer their condolences.

  This is my chance and I need to take it like I need my next breath. I’ve got to get the hell out of here. I hate funerals. First, Patrick and now Faye.

  Robert’s parents had a service for him. I wanted nothing to do with it. The sack of shit cheated on me, tried to frame my sister for insider trading, and would’ve killed both of us had my sister’s now-fiancé, Eli, not put a bullet through his head first. He didn’t deserve to be remembered, let alone honored. I haven’t uttered this aloud—not even to Jen—but I was happy to see Robert lying dead on the cold, hard floor of my studio.

  How many times over can one person be a mistake? I hate myself for regretting the day someone introduced me to Robert backstage when I was performing on Broadway because, without him, I wouldn’t have my son, and Griffin is my whole world.

  These are the things that keep me up at night.

  Regrets … guilt … guilt for having regrets. It’s a vicious cycle.

  I didn’t think my heart could be hardened any more than the day I internally celebrated the death of my husband. There are moments it rattles around in my chest like a lonely stone. I think Faye saw it. She encouraged me to find happiness even though I never mentioned how miserable I was. Every time I would visit, she turned the focus on me and I took it all.

  Missing her is selfish. She fought tooth and nail, suffering more than anyone should. The poison ate away at her slowly, efficiently, and the doctors couldn’t get ahead of it. She suffered in life and she suffered all the way to her death.

  I move to my car parked at the edge of the dirt road. When I touch the handle, it unlocks on contact.

  Even though he works for my family’s company now, I don’t plan on seeing Trig again. I don’t know what Jen was thinking when she offered him a job at Montgomery Industries. She obviously wants to torture me and make sure I’ll never step foot in that building again. Still, I can’t help myself—I peek over my shoulder for one last look.

  The pastor might be talking to him, but Trig’s focus is on me. Over the moss covered and crumbling gravestones, our eyes lock.

  And my stone heart cracks.

  I had no idea it could break twice in one lifetime. And for the first time in forever, my mind wanders to the life I had wanted.

  It’s not lost on me that the first time I see him in ten years happens to be in the middle of a cemetery.

  Fitting.

  I open my door and climb inside. I need to get the hell out of here.

  * * *

  “There’s my little man.”

  Griffin grins when he sees me, and despite the ear infection that’s been nagging him for the last two days, he crawls to me across the kitchen floor at the speed of light.

  He’s got my eyes, my light hair, and my fair skin, but he’s built like his father—sturdy and solid. That will be the only thing he gets from the sperm donor if I have anything to do with it. I’ve decided to do everything in my power to make sure Griffin knows as little as possible about Robert.

  I pick him up as my babysitter starts tossing the mess of toys into a basket in the family room. Chloe is almost twenty-six, considerably older than my last sitter. I found her through an agency when my last one refused to come back after the police showed up at the house to check on Griffin the night Robert tried to kill Jen and me.

  I kick off my heels, talking to her but my focus is on Griffin’s tired eyes. He hasn’t been sleeping well. I’ve been home with him all week and he’s even on antibiotics, but I couldn’t miss Faye’s funeral. I’d never forgive myself. “Please don’t worry about the mess. He’s just going to drag it out again. I’ll pick it up tonight.”

  She peeks over her shoulder and smiles as she tosses the last of the blocks into their bin. “I don’t mind, Mrs. Ketteman. I don’t want to leave you with a mess.”

  Griffin snuggles into my neck as I sigh. If it weren’t for him, I’d change my name back to Montgomery but I can’t tell my babysitter that I hate my dead husband and every reminder of him turns my stomach. “Please, call me Ellie. No need for formalities, right? You’re not that much younger than me.”

  She walks into the kitchen with a soft smile on Griffin and rubs his back. “Sorry, habit. He slept for a little bit this morning but only ate about half of his lunch. Poor little guy. You can tell he doesn’t feel good. Let me know when you want to get back to a normal, daily schedule.”

&nb
sp; I shift Griffin to my other arm as he fusses. “I need to take him back to the pediatrician for a follow-up appointment since this is his third ear infection. I have meetings with my contractors later this week and I’m getting ready to interview instructors and staff. Maybe the day after tomorrow? I can’t bear to leave him while he’s feeling like this. I just couldn’t miss the funeral today, you know?”

  Chloe grabs her purse from the counter and heads to the front door as I follow. “I’ll wait to hear from you. I feel bad not working since you’re paying me full-time through the agency. You’re sure I can’t stay to help with anything?”

  I shake my head. “No, thanks. I’m drained. I just need to focus on this little guy.”

  “I might hit the pool since I have some free time. Maybe I’ll see you later in the week.”

  I give her a smile. “Enjoy your afternoon.”

  I walk back into the kitchen and plop a kiss on top of Griff’s head before I set him down and open the cabinet with the plastic bowls I let him play with. I go to the fridge, though I’m not sure why. I know for a fact there’s only homemade baby food and the stuff Chloe likes that I keep here.

  I should probably start cooking again. Between spending time alone in my studio, preparing lesson plans for when I open, and not having anyone to cook for, I’ve lost weight.

  After I choke down two hard-boiled eggs, I grab a green juice and sit on the floor next to Griffin where he’s banging plastic lids and bowls in a way he’s made it his passion.

  My precious boy looks up at me and states, “Da-da.”

  I do what I always do—give him my smile while cringing internally. I take three plastic bowls, stack them high, and hope that he can’t hear the plea in my response when I correct him. “Ma-ma.”

  He knocks over the bowls—one of his favorite games—before faking his surprised face that always warms my heart. “Uh-oh!”

  “Again?” I ask.