“No. I have to—”
Lord stopped trying to convince me, and his hold became unmovable. “Don’t matter what you want.”
The last thing I saw before the door slammed shut was Con pacing, hands jammed into his hair, as Lucas talked.
When the back door opened and footsteps echoed in the hallway, I expected to see Con in the doorway to the kitchen. But it was Lucas.
“Where is he?” I asked, shooting to my feet, my chair toppling over behind me.
“Gone.”
I looked to Lord, who was leaning against the wall and rubbing a hand over his face. “He say where?”
Lucas’s attention was on me when he answered, “I think it’s safe to say he went after Archer. That’s where I’d go if I’d just learned who was responsible for killing my folks.”
My stomach sank to my toes.
Lord turned and punched the wall. “That’s what you just told him? Who killed Joy and Andre? Fuck.”
What would Con do? What he’d sworn that night at the lake house? Vigilante justice? An eye for an eye?
Jesus help us all.
“We have to stop him,” I whispered.
Lord’s gaze snapped to mine, and I realized that his eyes were lighter blue than Con’s. And they showed that he was pissed.
“This is all your fault,” he told me. “He never should’ve gotten involved with you. Told him it wasn’t worth the risk.”
So Lord seemed to know who Archer was. At least that was one thing I didn’t have to explain. But I did have to explain something else: “It’s not Archer I’m worried about protecting. It’s Con. If he… kills him… then he’s going to go to prison. I can’t let that happen.”
Lord’s anger cooled a few degrees. “Then we stop him. I’ll go to Chains. You go to Archer.”
“Chains?”
“He’s going to get the gun,” Lord replied matter-of-factly.
“What gun?”
“One that someone pawned. He was supposed to turn it back over to Hennessy. The casing matched the murder scene.”
“And if he uses it to kill Archer…”
“Then you’re right; he’s definitely going to prison.”
I wanted to sink back into the chair, but instead I strode toward Lucas. “Let’s go.”
I spun the lock on the safe until it clicked and threw the handle. The door swung open. Reaching inside, I pulled out the gun. The one someone had used to killed Joy and Andre.
My phone buzzed, and I ignored it. It was either Lord or Vanessa, neither of whom I wanted to talk to right about now. I was mapping out my plan for the evening.
Archer Bennett was going to confess all. And then I’d decide what to do with him.
A deadly calm had settled over me. A killing calm. One I hadn’t felt since my last mission in Afghanistan.
I grabbed a box of .38 special ammo off the shelf and slid a round into each chamber of the revolver. I’d only need one bullet, but I’d be a shit soldier if I went out with an almost empty gun.
I was back on my bike and roaring toward the foundation when I felt my phone vibrate over and over. A beat up 1970s Mercedes was still parked in the small lot. I only had one guess as to whose car it was.
Con’s bike was already in the parking lot when the Aston Martin screeched to a halt beside it.
Oh my God. What the hell were we going to walk in to? I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. If we went inside and saw Archer with a bullet hole anywhere in his body, I’d never be able to look at Con the same way again. Never.
Lord and Lucas might think Con’s actions were perfectly understandable, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t change everything.
Archer was sick. Quite possibly insane. But I couldn’t let Con kill him. Not because Archer deserved to live, but because it wasn’t up to Con to end his life.
I didn’t want his blood on Con’s hands. And I really didn’t want to face the moral dilemma of what you were supposed to do when your boyfriend killed your great uncle because your great uncle arranged to have your boyfriend’s parents murdered before he was your boyfriend.
I’d thought Archer’s approval was all I needed for Con and I to be together, but now Archer was going to be the reason Con and I were torn apart—but for a whole different reason.
I hurried into the building, Lucas on my heels.
“You need to stay back, Vanessa. This isn’t going to be—”
The sound of raised voices cut off his words, and I ran toward them.
“Vanessa!” Lucas yelled.
I slammed to a stop when I hit the threshold of Archer’s office. He was on his knees, and Con was standing over him. The barrel of the shiny, black revolver in Con’s hand was pressed against Archer’s temple.
If you’d expected Archer to be begging for mercy, you would’ve bet wrong.
He was irate.
And every insult that came out of his mouth was pushing Con closer to the edge. For a brief moment I wondered if this was the equivalent of suicide by cop. I wondered if Archer wanted Con to kill him.