Blood and Bone

by Dawn Brown

  “Always the writer looking for a story, huh?” Ian set his hands on his hips and shook his head slowly. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? You’re not going to be around to write your book. If you’re lucky, maybe someday someone will write one about you.”

  The irony clearly pleased him, his smile widened.

  “Enough,” Warren said. “Let’s finish this.”

  Warren lunged forward and Des tensed again, but Ian stepped in between. “Now, now, it seems only fair these two should know why they’re about to spend eternity buried in Tic Johnson’s yard. You’ve both been very accommodating where Tic’s concerned. No one will be surprised he killed you, with so much animosity between you all.”

  Shayne’s heart pounded in her chest. “Except Tic. He might be surprised, and not too happy at being set up for murder.”

  Both Warren and Ian grinned as if Shayne had said something very funny.

  “He’s not going to complain where he is,” Ian said, still grinning. “We were much more careful disposing of his body than we will be with the two of you. When you’re found, people will think he killed you and took off. No one will guess he’s dead too. The brilliant part about all of this is we were going to use this plan originally. Let Tic, that mean old bastard, take the fall for Gwen’s death. After all, everyone knew he’d been making their life hell that year on Heddi’s order, but Anderson fell under suspicion right away, and we had Des and Julia to keep him in line.”

  Shayne adjusted her grip on the Leatherman. “Why didn’t Anderson tell the police you killed them?”

  Ian’s brow furrowed. “He couldn’t prove it was us. Heddi was convinced he’d killed them, so were the police. Even with circumstantial evidence, he was going to jail, and wouldn’t be able to protect his children while fighting to clear his name. I explained if he didn’t go along quietly, I would finish what we started, and take out Julia and you too, Des.”

  “I guess after an eight-year-old managed to outwit you and escape, you had to make a few amendments to your plan,” Shayne said unable to hide her derision.

  Warren snorted, and the smarmy smile slipped from Ian’s face.

  “She didn’t escape. Do you think a kid could get away from both of us? We got to her before she even had you out of your high chair.” Ian nodded at Des, but Des merely held Ian’s gaze, his expression blank. “She didn’t actually see me shoot her mother and Christian. We told her a monster killed them, and if she said she saw us at the house, the monster would come for her, and for Des. She believed us, but as she grew older she began to realize why we’d really been there that night. She stayed quiet, though—lucky for her. Besides, who would believe a basket case like her when Robert had already confessed? And as added insurance, I kept you close to me, Des. She wouldn’t say anything that would risk my hurting you.”

  “That’s why you would have me stay with you sometimes, even interfere with Heddi,” Des said, his voice oddly calm, hiding the pain he had to be feeling at having his uncle betray him this way. “To control my sister, to keep her quiet.”

  Ian chuckled, clearly delighting in at last having someone to reveal all that he had done. “That’s right. I also wanted you to feel you could confide in me. If Julia ever talked, I wanted you to come to me with whatever she told you. And you would have. We were quite close, weren’t we?”

  “Why kill Christian if you spared the other two?” Shayne asked, drawing the man’s attention again. She had to keep him talking, just a little longer. “Because he was older and harder to control?”

  “Killing the children hadn’t been part of the plan. Cal was supposed to keep them away until I got clear. He would even claim he saw Tic hurrying from the house with the gun. But Christian heard the noise and came running out. I had to kill him.”

  Shayne jerked her attention to Cal staring stoically back at her. “My God, how could you have let him murder your own son?”

  The man’s expression hardened, but he didn’t reply. Ian slapped Warren’s shoulder, smiled ruefully and shook his head. “Make no mistake, he wasn’t happy with me, but we were in too deep to go back or turn on each other. I let Cal talk me out of killing Julia and Des, though. He convinced me they were both too young to cause us any trouble. But he was wrong, and the time’s come to correct our oversight.”

  “Oversight? That’s what Julia was to you?” Des ground out, a hard glare fixed on Warren. “You didn’t visit her at the hospital out of some sad sense of paternal concern, you were there messing with her head. Threatening her, scaring her, forcing her to keep your sick secret. How could you do that to your own daughter?”

  “You think you knew her?” Warren’s eyes squinted, and he leaned closer to Des. “You think she was some sweet, tormented girl? You have no idea who she was. You asked me what I said to her in the hospital, but you should have asked what she said to me. She decided to blackmail us. We knew about the money she was stealing. It was a payoff to keep her mouth shut. She didn’t care about what we’d done so long as she could make a little money off it.”

  “You found out she was going to talk to me, and you killed her.” Shayne’s stomach churned. God help her, Julia’s death had been her fault.

  Ian’s smile widened. “That little bitch was going to double-cross us, tell you everything, then take the money and run. But she’s not an issue anymore, and soon you won’t be either.”

  Shayne’s heart jumped, her body tensed. Time was running out.

  “I’m sorry, Des,” Ian said with the sincerity of a used car salesman, “but I can’t protect you. You’re not a child anymore.”

  “No, I’m not.” Des sprang from the ground and leaped at Warren.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Their mother’s blatant preference for Gwen created a strong animosity between siblings, but no one could have guessed how deeply Ian’s hatred ran.”

  —excerpt from Blood and Bone by Shayne Reynolds

  For a second Shayne could only gape as Des clung to Warren’s back like a deranged child struggling for a piggyback ride. They teetered sideways, and Warren fell with a thud. Des scrambled on top and struck him with two sharp jabs to the face. Warren’s nose crunched and turned to red mush.

  Ian made a grab for Des, and Shayne’s paralysis broke. She thrust the Leatherman into his thigh. He yowled, and before she could yank the blade out again, he caught her across the cheek with the back of his hand sending her stumbling back. Her face throbbed, but she didn’t have time to think about the pain. Ian wrenched the blade from his leg. His eyes blazing and his expression furious, he charged her with her own weapon. She swung the tire iron wide, caught him across the shoulder. The metal reverberated in her hands, sending a sharp pang up her arms.

  He let out another howl and dropped the Leatherman. She swung the tire iron again, and he held out his hand as if to catch the bar. Instead, a sickening crack filled the air and Ian screamed. Collapsing to his knees, he cradled his crooked hand to his chest.

  Shayne wheeled around as Warren gripped Des and shoved him off his chest. Des scrambled to his feet, poised to leap at him again. Shayne raised the tire iron, and took a step forward.

  “Enough,” Warren shouted, but his broken nose sounded clogged like he had a bad cold and the word came out enup. He drew a gun from his waistband and leveled it at Des’s head.

  For an instant, Shayne’s heart ceased to beat. Everyone froze. Silence stretched between them. Even the forest seemed to hold its breath.

  “Put that down.” Warren nodded at the tire iron. She released the metal and it hit the ground with a dull clang.

  They’d lost. Now, Warren would blow a hole in each of their heads and dump them into the pit. At best, the police might arrive in time to catch Warren and Ian burying them.

  “When I say now—” Des’s voice jerked her from her thoughts. She turned her head and met his bright gaze. His body tense, he looked far from ready to stop fighting,“—run. Go to the police.”

  Oh God, Des was goi
ng to rush him, and probably wind up dead in the process. She couldn’t leave him. She couldn’t let him die.

  “I’ll kill him,” Warren said. The gun trembled in his hand.

  “You’ll kill him, anyway,” she whispered. The truth of her own words gripped her throat.

  “Do something!” Warren exploded.

  Something tugged at her pant leg. Shayne looked down to see Ian trying grab her with one hand, the other, bent at a strange angle at the wrist, tucked against his chest. He lifted his face and peered up at her with hate-filled eyes, his lips disappearing into a sneer. She stepped away from him easily.

  “Ready?” Des asked without looking away from Warren.

  No! She wasn’t ready. Not to run and leave him to die. There had to be another way.

  “I’ll kill you, then I’ll blow her away too.”

  “Freeze. Drop your weapon.”

  Shayne whirled at the sound of another voice. Avery stood at the edge the trees, gun drawn and leveled at Warren. Her knees turned to jelly, and she nearly crumpled to the ground. She’d never thought the day would come when she’d be glad to see that man, but she’d never been happier to see anyone in her life.

  “No,” Warren snarled, his voice turning almost shrill. He kept the gun trained on Des. “Should have killed you when I had the chance.”

  “It’s done. Drop. Your. Weapon.” More officers emerged from the woods into the clearing, guns aimed at him. Ian let out a keening moan.

  Warren’s mouth curled into a sneer. “This is all because of you, bitch. When he’s dead you remember that.”

  Oh Christ, he was going to kill Des anyway.

  “Don’t—” Shayne started, but two nearly simultaneous explosions cut through the night, drowning her out. Des’s shoulder jerked sideways, turning him so he faced her. His features pulled into a tight wince. Brilliant red formed a misshaped circle on his sleeve, spreading and darkening. He collapsed to the ground.

  “No, no, no,” she muttered, as she ran. She dropped to her knees at his side.

  Des lay still, eyes squeezed tightly, face ashen, hand pressed to his shoulder. Blood seeped between his fingers.

  “Des,” she half-sobbed, “please be okay.”

  “I am,” he murmured through gritted teeth. “Just a graze. My head is killing me, though. Warren?”

  She looked over to where the man had been standing. He now lay still and lifeless on the forest floor, an officer bent over him.

  “I think he’s dead.” She turned to look for Ian. He remained crouched with his hand curled into his chest, three officers surrounding him. An ambulance rolled up the dirt drive red and blue lights swinging across the clearing. Thank God.

  “Paramedics are here,” Avery said, crouching beside Des and examining the jagged tear in his arm. “You’ll live, I think.”

  Shayne pressed a trembling hand to her mouth as if to physically hold at bay the sob building in her throat. Des opened his eyes and fixed his gaze on Shayne. “I know. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Des leaned back against the brick-like pillow of his hospital bed and winced, shrill agony shooting through his skull. For the most part, the painkillers the nurse had given him earlier had done wonders to block the sharp pounding in his head and the burn in his shoulder, but if anything came in contact with his injuries, a fresh wave of pain flooded his system. He’d have to sleep on his side tonight…if he slept at all.

  He didn’t think it too likely. Every time he closed his eyes, his head would fill with images of Warren and Ian slowly descending upon him and Shayne. What if the numbness in his arms hadn’t faded in time? If the police hadn’t arrived when they did? The possibilities turned his stomach and left him cold.

  With a muttered curse, he shifted on the uncomfortable mattress. He wanted to go home. To see Shayne in the flesh, and know she was safe, with him. But the doctor had insisted he stay at least one night in the hospital. Having had his nose broken, head smashed and arm shot—even if it was just a graze—didn’t give him a whole lot of room to argue.

  “Hey.”

  He turned to see Shayne standing in the doorway. She looked a mess, hair tousled, clothes stained, dark semicircles beneath her eyes standing out against her unusually pale skin. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever known, and the sight of her warmed him.

  “I didn’t think I’d get to see you. Visiting hours ended a while ago,” he said.

  She shot him a tight smile. “I know, but I slipped the nurse twenty bucks to let me in.”

  “Twenty bucks, huh?” Why wasn’t she coming in, and why did she look uneasy? A tiny bolt of icy panic pierced his chest. Was she here to tell him good-bye? “You should have haggled. You probably could have talked her down to at least twelve-fifty.”

  “I figured you were worth the full pop.” Again that nervous smile. His insides tightened. “I tried to see you sooner, but no one would let me in or tell me anything because I’m not family. Your cousin was here and must have said something to the doctor because once she left they started keeping me informed.”

  “How is Kate?” In the span of a few hours, he and his cousin had reversed rolls. They’d never been close, but he wouldn’t have wished his legacy on anyone.

  Shayne slipped her hands into the rear pockets of her jeans and rocked back and forth on her heels. “She gives new meaning to the word stoic, but I think underneath, she’s angry. Her exact words to me were, ‘I’ve always known he was a lowlife.’”

  Des nodded. “Ian’s been cheating on my aunt for most of their marriage, and he hasn’t exactly been subtle. Kate’s never had much respect for him. Still, this has to be hard on her.”

  “Kate asked me to tell you Heddi is letting you off the money, and she’ll be reimbursing you what you paid her.”

  “That makes sense, I guess.” Images of his sister and what those bastards had done to her flashed through his head. A sick ache gripped his chest. “Since Julia died the night she disappeared, Heddi probably figures she couldn’t have spent the money, and it shouldn’t be too hard to track down what Julia did with it.”

  Shayne nipped the corner of her lip, and pressed her hand to her chest. “I’m sorry about your sister, and for my part in what happened to her.” Her voice hitched on the last word.

  Des’s brows pulled together, making his head hurt. “Is that why you aren’t coming in? Because you think I blame you?”

  “I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me. They killed Julia because of the book.”

  “No, they killed her because she was extorting money from them. She was getting ready to run, and Ian knew it. They let her believe she was calling the shots, but all along they were setting her up. That’s why they killed her accomplice. He probably was working with them, and once he brought them Julia, they killed him too.”

  “And all that happened after she agreed to speak to me about the book,” Shayne said.

  “How could you have possibly known what would happen?” Des held out his hand to her. “I worked for Ian, looked up to him, considered him the closest thing I had to a father. I never had the slightest inkling of what he was capable of.”

  Shayne took his hand and let him pull her onto the edge of the bed. Some of the tension twisting her insides eased a little. He didn’t blame her, and that was good, but a lifetime had passed since this morning. Just because he didn’t hate her didn’t mean he wanted a life with her either. And how exactly did you ask someone what their feelings for you were after rejecting them point-blank, then nearly getting them killed—albeit inadvertently.

  Without thinking, she pressed her palm to his chest, absorbing the steady beat through the thin hospital gown. She’d come so close to losing him. Her throat tightened and she struggled to push away the memory of his crumpling to the ground.

  “I want you to finish writing the book.” Des’s words pulled her from her thoughts.

  She didn’t know if she could anymore. Everything had changed. She was no longer telling a story as an
observer, reporting the facts. She’d become a character, a near victim—coupled with her feelings for Des, how objective could she be? “Don’t make decisions like that right now. Give things a chance to settle first.”

  “I don’t need to. My father was innocent. I want the truth about what happened that night out there.”

  “Wait until—”

  “I don’t need to wait.”

  She sighed. “Fine, we’ll talk about it when you get out of here.”

  “Okay.” He nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving her face, as if he were gauging her every reaction. “Will we talk about us too?”

  A sliver of hope surged inside her. Her heart rate kicked up, pounding like a jackhammer against her chest. “Is there an us?”

  He reached up and traced the angle of her cheekbone with his fingertip. Her breath caught. “I want there to be.”

  Relief flooded her system, turning her muscles soft. She could have wept. “This morning when you brought up the idea, I need you to understand when Travis and I split up—”

  “Don’t compare me to him.” His expression darkened and he dropped his hand to his side.

  “I’m not. Well, I am a little, but I… hear me out, okay?”

  He nodded, raised his arms and winced, remembering his shoulder wound. Instead, he lifted his good arm, gingerly slipping his hand behind his head. He flashed her a tight, mildly annoyed smile. “I’m all ears.”

  Great, because she still didn’t know how to explain exactly what she felt. She drew in a deep breath. “Divorce is hard. The last months of my marriage and another year of going through the separation—it’s grueling and exhausting and it took so much out of me.”

  “I am not him,” Des ground out.

  “I know that. Because I feel ten times more for you than I ever felt for him. I love you so much, and it scares the hell out of me.” To her mortification hot tears stung her eyes. She tried to blink them away, but instead they rolled down her cheeks.

  “Hey.” Des’s eyes widened. The annoyance in his expression dissolved into an almost comical mix of shock and horror. He sat up and wrapped his good arm around her and pulled her tightly against him. She buried her head in his neck, losing herself in the warmth of his body, the spicy scent of his skin. “It’s okay.”