Too Wilde to Tame (Wilde Security)

by Tonya Burrows

  He raised a hand to knock but dropped it again a beat later. A knock could be ignored easily enough. He tried the knob, but she’d locked him out.

  Damn. He’d deserved to be thrown out. He’d acted like a complete jackass just now. His mother would be so ashamed of him.

  He walked over to his own apartment but didn’t bother going inside. There was nothing he wanted in there. Everything he wanted was behind that locked door across the hall. He lowered himself until his ass hit the floor. His cell phone dug into his side, so he lifted a hip to pull it from his pocket. He had several missed calls from Bruce Chambers and voice messages about needing him to call back, ASAP. The guy probably wanted to ship him off to Nigeria. All of his old suspicions swirled to the surface, but he shook them off.

  He was done. If finding his parents’ killer meant he was going to lose Natalie, he was so done with it all. Because she was right. Whether or not he got revenge, the pain of losing his parents wasn’t going to stop.

  He tossed the phone aside and settled in. He’d just have to wait her out. She had to leave the apartment eventually.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  He was still out there, standing guard.

  Natalie checked the time on her phone. She was running late, and she feared Mathew would bolt if she didn’t meet him at the designated place on time. Her parents had given her a phone number to contact him, and it was all she had. If he disappeared, Andy would make sure he’d have a new phone, and her parents wouldn’t give her the number a second time.

  The call was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. Their parents had told him not to talk to her, but after much coaxing, he’d finally agreed to meet her at the old gas station and walk her through what had happened between him and the Wildes that October night.

  She dreaded it, but not as much as she dreaded not knowing. She couldn’t give Greer his revenge, but she’d at least get him answers.

  But first, she had to escape him.

  …

  The stairway door opened, and Greer glanced over without much interest. His ass was going numb and he was starving, but nothing was going to pry him away from her door.

  Mrs. Chan bustled in carrying several bags of groceries. She stopped when she saw him. “Greer. What are you doing out here? Did you lock yourself out?”

  “No. I’m waiting for Natalie.”

  Mrs. Chan fumbled one of her grocery bags, and a can of soup rolled across the floor to bump against his foot.

  Okay, maybe there was something that could pry him away from his vigil for a second. Dad had raised him too well for him to ignore an old woman juggling grocery bags. He grabbed the can of soup and stood, shaking out his legs one at a time. They’d both gone to sleep, and pins and needles prickled painfully under his skin. He ignored it and limped over to take the bags from Mrs. Chan.

  She beamed at him. “Thank you! You’re such a nice young man. Here, let me just get my keys…”

  He followed her around the corner to her door. Sighed when she produced a key ring fit for a janitor and started shuffling through the multitude of keys. This, he decided, was his good deed for the year.

  As Mrs. Chan took her good old time looking for her apartment key—why on earth did anyone need so many other keys?—he stared at the ceiling and strived for patience. Then he heard it. A sound like a dog snuffling at the bottom of a door. The same sound Jet made anytime Natalie left.

  He looked at Mrs. Chan. “You.”

  She smiled placidly and took her grocery bags back. “I told her I’d distract you, and I have.” She tilted her head toward the stairs. “Now go get your girl and apologize for whatever the hell you did to piss her off.”

  “Mrs. Chan.” He dropped a kiss to her forehead. “You’re a meddling old witch.”

  Her cackles followed him all the way down the stairs.

  Following Natalie’s Prius was easy enough with his bike, and soon enough, he didn’t have to follow because he knew exactly where she was going. Every muscle in his body tightened with dread.

  The gas station.

  Was she meeting her brother there? Would her brother hurt her? She’d said many times that Mathew was unstable. What if he decided the easiest way to keep her quiet was to kill her, too?

  Shit.

  He poured on the speed, no longer caring if she saw him. If she did, maybe she’d rethink this ridiculous plan. He could call her, threaten her brother. Then she’d definitely not go to the meeting for fear of leading him to Mathew. It was a solid plan, except he’d left his damn cell phone sitting on the floor in front of his apartment.

  Up ahead, her car slowed as she neared the abandoned gas station, and his heart started doing corkscrews that put roller coasters to shame.

  No, Natalie. Please, don’t stop. Keep driving. Finding out the truth isn’t important enough to risk your life.

  She didn’t listen to his silent plea. She turned into the gas station’s parking lot.

  No.

  He was right behind her, pulling up just as she got out of her car. There wasn’t another car in the lot, but a twitchy, rail-thin man waited against the graffiti-adorned concrete wall. That must be Mathew. Beside him was a boy who looked to be a younger, healthier version of the same man.

  Andy. The boy with the peach-fuzz mustache.

  Greer threw off his helmet, jumped off his bike, and stalked toward them.

  “No!” Natalie shouted behind him. “Please, Greer, don’t hurt them!”

  Hurt them? Fuck that. His only goal here was to keep them from hurting her. Five feet in front of them, he stopped. Andy went wide-eyed and ghostly pale. Mathew cowered against the wall like a child expecting more abuse from his father.

  This was the man who killed his parents?

  Uh-uh. No fucking way. This was all wrong.

  “Greer!” Natalie reached his side and pulled on his arm in a panic. “Please. Don’t. He’s my brother.”

  He held up a hand, staving her off. “Do you know who I am?” he asked them.

  They both nodded.

  “I-I’m sorry,” Andy said in barely a whisper. “I-I didn’t want to hurt you, but he said he’d come after my dad, and my grandparents, and Aunt Tally if I—”

  “Who said that?”

  Andy looked at his father, who hunched even farther in on himself.

  “Matt…” Natalie slid a step closer. “Who is Andy talking about?”

  Mathew wouldn’t look at either of them. “The man who was there that night.”

  Greer’s entire world ground to a halt. “The night my parents died?”

  Mathew nodded once, jerkily.

  Natalie breathed out a slow breath. “You didn’t kill them?”

  Finally, he straightened. He looked at his sister, and his gaunt face softened for an instant before he shifted his gaze to Greer. “I didn’t kill them, but I was here. I saw what happened.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly in his neck, then he lifted one needle-scarred arm and pointed at the spot that used to be gas pumps. Now there was nothing left but the chipped concrete slab the pumps had once sat on. “They drove in and filled up. They were both very upset. Said they were looking for their youngest son. They seemed like a nice couple, so I took down their phone number in case I spotted him. Another car pulled in and the woman went back out. The man paid for their gas. We heard the shots just as I handed him his change. Four shots. Bang bang bang bang. He turned and yelled for his wife and someone appeared in the doorway. Didn’t say anything, but I could tell your father knew who it was. And then another shot. So loud.” Mathew curled his hands over his ears as if trying to protect them. “He died, right there. I thought I was going to be next, but the man appeared and just said if I told anyone…anyone…” Straightening, his gaze traveled into the distance over Greer’s shoulder and his complexion turned to ash. “He’d kill me and everyone I love. So I never said anything. All this time, I never said anything. I let my parents and the cops think I was the killer because I kne
w he meant it.”

  Natalie gasped. “Greer…”

  All the hairs on the back of Greer’s neck prickled. He didn’t need Natalie’s warning or the look of pure terror on both Mathew’s and Andy’s faces to know someone was holding a gun on him. Instinct and years of training told him that much. He lifted his hands and turned slowly.

  He wasn’t the least bit surprised to find Bruce Chambers with a pistol aimed directly at his head. “Nigeria, huh?”

  Bruce lifted a shoulder. “I gave you an out. Should’ve taken it.”

  “So you could try to kill me there like you did in Syria? I don’t think so.”

  “What happened in Syria—” He broke off. His eyes were shot through with red as if he hadn’t slept and wetness spiked his lashes. “I didn’t want it to come to that, but you couldn’t let it go. You just had to keep digging, like a damn dog with a fucking bone. You’re just like your father.”

  “So now what? You gonna shoot all four of us? This place doesn’t have enough blood on the ground for your liking?” Greer scoffed at himself and dropped his hands to his sides. “I should’ve trusted my instincts from the beginning. I knew you’d do anything to protect your little assassin squad.”

  Bruce’s features showed something closer to resignation than guilt. “I did what I had to. He called me that night to help him look for Jude, and I saw my chance. He was going to ruin everything we’d worked for.”

  “You should have let him,” Greer said. “Hell, you should have helped.”

  “No. I couldn’t. All the good we’ve done—”

  “What good?” Hatred, dark and bitter, threatened to choke him. “You took desperate, struggling kids, and turned them into killers. Now Dustin Williamson is dead, Zak Hendricks is drowning his nightmares in a bottle, and I—” His voice caught. “I’ve sat with a gun to my head, finger on the trigger, and the only reason I didn’t pull it is cause I knew my parents’ killer was still out there. So fuck that greater good bullshit you spoon-fed us. I don’t see any good. Where I’m standing, all I see is damage.”

  Bruce straightened. “I did what I had to do.”

  “And Mom? You had to kill her, too?”

  Something flickered in his eyes, there and gone before Greer could identify it. “Your mother was just collateral damage. Wrong place, wrong time.”

  “No. No, no, no,” Mathew muttered, but Greer didn’t dare take his eyes off Bruce to see what was going on.

  “Shut up!” Bruce commanded and the gun wobbled in his hand.

  Wobbled? Greer stared in disbelief at the shaking gun. Bruce was one of the steadiest shots he knew. His hands never wobbled when there was a gun in them.

  Something was wrong here. A piece of the puzzle was missing.

  “No!” Mathew shouted. “No, I’m done shutting up. I shut up for too long. That’s not how it happened.” He pointed at Bruce. “He was there, but he didn’t—”

  Greer saw the gun recoil in Bruce’s hand before he heard the deafening blast of the shot. The bullet blew past, close enough that the heat of it seared his shoulder, and hit its target.

  Mathew gurgled, staggered sideways a few steps, and collapsed. Natalie screamed and rushed to her brother’s side. Andy’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he passed out in the spreading pool of his father’s blood.

  “Jesus!” Greer held up his hands in a halt gesture—not that it was going to do much if Bruce started picking them all off. “Enough death. Enough killing. Bruce, enough!”

  Bruce looked at him, eyes wet. “You really were like a son to me,” he said and lifted the gun to his own head. “All I ever wanted was to protect you. A man protects those he loves.”

  He pulled the trigger.

  Stunned into immobility, Greer stared at his mentor’s body. His parents’ killer. Dead in the same place they had died. Killed, not by Greer, but his own hand.

  What the fuck just happened?

  The first wail of sirens filled the afternoon sky and, finally, other details started to register through the fog of shock. The scent of iron and death hung heavy in the air. Natalie was sobbing.

  Natalie.

  He whirled around, searching, and found her on her knees beside her brother. Mathew wheezed and gurgled with every breath. Andy was still passed out cold.

  Greer suspected there wasn’t much he could do for the older Taggart, so he checked on Andy first and found his pulse strong. The kid would wake up with a headache and a shit-ton of bad memories, but no serious injuries.

  His father, on the other hand…

  Greer knelt beside Natalie and lifted Mathew’s shirt, searching for the wound. The man was all skin and bones, and the bullet had torn a ragged hole through his middle.

  “Oh.” Natalie shuddered and pressed her small hands against the wound, trying to keep deep red blood from pumping out of the hole. “Oh, Matty. Hang on.”

  Wincing, Greer gently removed her blood-covered hands and lowered the shirt again. Even with his extensive battlefield medical training, the wound was beyond his skills. In truth, it was beyond even the most gifted trauma surgeon’s skills. Mathew’s complexion was already taking on the waxy sheen of death, but how could he tell Natalie that?

  He wrapped an arm around her and did his best to calm her wracking sobs. “Shh, angel. It’s okay. Hear those sirens? Help’s coming. Help will be here soon.” Even as he said the words, he watched life begin to drain from her brother. Mathew reached out blindly, groped the air, and Greer caught his hand, gave it a squeeze. “Hey, you’re okay, man. You’re okay.”

  Mathew’s eyes fluttered, and his lips moved. He seemed to be trying to say something. Greer leaned closer, and with his last breath, Mathew Taggart managed four little words.

  “He was not alone.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  He was not alone.

  The words echoed in Greer’s head as he watched the coroner drive away with both Mathew’s and Bruce’s bodies in the belly of the white van.

  What had Mathew meant by that? He was half-inclined to brush it off as the incoherent ramblings of a dying man, but something niggled at the back of his brain. A thought or a memory flitting around the edges of his consciousness, an annoying fly he couldn’t swat away. A missing puzzle piece.

  This wasn’t over.

  Would it ever be?

  His legs no longer wanted to work, the adrenaline having drained out of him, leaving him shaky and exhausted. He lowered himself to the old concrete slab where the gas pumps once stood.

  His mother had been shot four times right here.

  He stared at the cracked pavement in front of him. It seemed like it should be marked somehow, stained by the violence that had taken a mother from her sons, but it wasn’t. It was just a parking lot.

  Someone called his name, and he lifted his head, searched the crowd of cops and medics, then the reporters and lookie-loos gathered on the street, kept back by sawhorses. Eva was there on the sidewalk, flashing her detective shield to one of the uniformed officers. Cam was right behind her, hobbling on his crutches. Reece and Shelby were behind them. Jude and Libby. Vaughn and…some woman he vaguely recognized but was too exhausted to try putting a name with her face. But for the first time, he noticed the ring on Vaughn’s hand.

  Vaughn was married?

  Wow. He had missed a lot these last few months.

  Eva reached him first. “What happened?”

  He gazed up at her, then over at Cam and the rest of his brothers. “Mathew Taggart was only a witness. Bruce Chambers killed Mom and Dad to keep his assassin squad a secret and then threatened to hurt Mathew’s family if he ever talked.”

  He was not alone.

  Cam sagged on his crutches. “So we finally know what happened.”

  Vaughn gazed down at the pavement under his feet and scowled. “It doesn’t help. I always thought knowing would help, but—”

  “It doesn’t,” Cam finished.

  “Bruce is dead,” Greer told them. “After he conf
essed, he shot Mathew and then himself.”

  Cam stilled and his head turned slightly to one side as it always did when he was mulling something over. Then he asked, “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why would he kill himself?”

  And that’s where Greer was stumped. In all the years he’d known Bruce, he’d never been able to dissect what went on in his head. His motives were always his own. But he did know one thing. “Men like Bruce need command like they need air. He wouldn’t have survived prison.”

  “So why didn’t he run?” Vaughn asked. The twins always operated on the same wavelength, and he must have figured out where Cam was going with the line of questions. “If he knew the jig was up, why not take off? He had the connections to disappear.”

  All I ever wanted was to protect you. A man protects those he loves.

  He was not alone.

  Yeah, there was more to this. “Can I leave?”

  Eva glanced around. “There’s Captain Ortiz. He’s probably in charge. Hang on, I’ll go find out.”

  Greer propped his elbows on his knees and shoved his hands into his hair. He didn’t want to wait. He wanted to get the hell out of here. If Bruce had a partner, his family still wasn’t safe. His brothers weren’t safe. Natalie wasn’t safe.

  Who else had been there that night?

  He wracked his brain, trying to come up with a name. Anything—or anyone—who had a stake in whether his parents lived or died. Nothing popped. Bruce wasn’t like Richard Mendenhall. He hadn’t been around all the time while Greer was growing up. He hadn’t come to holiday barbeques or played touch football with the boys in the backyard. In fact, Greer remembered seeing Bruce only a handful of times before the night his parents died. His father had been very careful to keep that dangerous part of his life separate. He had no idea where to even start looking for Bruce’s accomplice.

  Jude sat down beside him. “So this is where it happened?”