Baylor remained calm. The smug bastard.
“I suspected one day I might need you again. And I did,” he told Ronnie. “Over the years I’d hoped that Carrie would find some nice local farmer to marry and settle down in her grandparents’ house. She hadn’t any contact with us for years, and there was no need for her to return to Louisville.” Baylor heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Of course she had to become a problem. Not only did she not stay at her home, she had to go to college to become an investigative journalist.”
Ronnie made a sound of impatience. None of this made sense.
It’d been Carrie’s determination to become a journalist that had led her to interviewing the serial killers. And eventually had inspired his own killing spree.
“Isn’t that what we wanted?”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Baylor said with an expression of disgust. “I couldn’t have her returning to the family estate, snooping into things that were none of her business.”
Ronnie frowned. At first he assumed that Baylor was talking about the murder/suicide of her parents. Why would he worry about that? There was no way for Carrie to learn the truth.
Not until Ronnie was ready to reveal his inner self to her.
Then he wrinkled his nose in repugnance. “You did steal the three million dollars,” he said, shaking his head.
His mother had been convinced that Lawrence had been up to something nefarious. And it appeared she’d been right. It was disappointing to think that Baylor was just as shallow as the rest of his family.
For the first time since he’d blocked Ronnie’s path, the older man flushed, looking oddly defensive.
“The insurance money should have gone to my father in the first place,” he growled. “We needed it to save the company from a bankruptcy that had been created by my uncle’s stubborn refusal to listen to common sense.” Baylor paused, sucking in a deep, calming breath before he managed to paste his smile back on his lips. “Unfortunately, the law wouldn’t understand that it was a business decision.”
Ronnie didn’t understand either. Who cared about money? It couldn’t buy respect. Or greatness.
He had earned those without having a penny in his pocket.
“It was stealing,” he accused.
Baylor gave a dismissive wave of his hand, once again in full command of his composure.
“Whatever,” he said. “I needed to get rid of her. And you were the perfect stooge to do it. Why do you think I brought you a copy of her book?”
Ronnie hunched his shoulders, the pain drilling behind his eye. He didn’t want to hear these lies. They were starting to confuse him.
“You said the book was a challenge from my sister,” he muttered. “Our blood was calling to each other and only one of us could come out as the victor.”
Baylor gave a loud laugh. “I said a lot of shit,” he told Ronnie. “I knew that with enough prodding you would finally give in to your need to kill Carrie. After all, you’d wanted to see her dead since she was just a little girl.”
“No.” Ronnie shook his head, even as the words struck a painful chord of truth. He had wanted Carrie dead.
She had everything.
And he had nothing.
Baylor stepped toward him, continuing to twist the proverbial knife he’d stuck in Ronnie’s back.
“And now, miraculously, you’ve given me a way to get rid of Matthew as well.”
“I didn’t have anything to do with stupid Matthew,” Ronnie denied.
An ugly jealousy rippled over Baylor’s face. “You’re right. Matthew is stupid. And lazy. And self-indulgent. If there was any justice in the world, I should have been born the older son,” he said, each word coming out with biting force. The hazel gaze shifted toward the nearby security office. Presumably, Matthew was still lying unconscious in there. “Thanks to you I can now make it appear as if he was just another of your partners in crime who ended up dead when you were done with him.”
Ronnie’s lips parted, but before he could speak, an icy dread snaked down his spine.
Did Baylor know what he’d done with the others? Or was this just another trick to try to confuse him?
Ronnie absently rubbed the painful throb beside his eye. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Seriously?” Baylor scoffed, smoothly moving forward. Ronnie frowned. When had the other man gotten so close? “Did you think I wasn’t aware that we were losing our club members one by one?” Baylor demanded. “I’m sure I was next on the list, wasn’t I?”
Ronnie forced a choked laugh. “Of course not,” he lied.
Baylor shrugged. “Oh, I’m not complaining. It tied up all the loose ends nicely for me. Now when the cops come, they’ll find Matthew with a bullet in his head, along with Griffin Archer, who was unfortunately in the wrong place at the wrong time, and they’ll blame the deaths on you. Especially since I’ll be sure to use your gun,” Baylor said, his words soft as if he was speaking more to himself than Ronnie. “And as for Carrie, we need something special, don’t you think? Should I strangle her? It’s what you wanted to do.”
Ronnie licked his lips. This was all spinning out of control. He was the one in charge. He was the one who decided when and how people died.
Baylor was spoiling everything.
“What about me?” Ronnie winced, aware he sounded like a whining child.
Baylor smiled. A real smile that reached his icy hazel eyes.
“You tragically didn’t realize that once Matthew had changed the security locks you couldn’t get out of the warehouse without having the passcode.” As he spoke, Baylor casually strolled to grab a metal can off a bottom shelf. Turpentine. “You died in the fire you lit to hide your crimes. The police will assume that’s the end to the killings and I can walk away. Although once the smoke settles . . .” His lips twitched as he managed to open the can while keeping the gun in his other hand. “Literally. I might create my own Kill Club.”
For a second, Ronnie watched as Baylor splashed the clear liquid over the wooden planks piled on a nearby rack. Then the full impact of Baylor’s treachery hit like a sledgehammer to his head.
This man hadn’t been his friend when they were young. And he hadn’t been trying to help when he’d visited him in the institute. And he certainly hadn’t been the devoted disciple he’d pretended to be when they’d formed their secret club.
“You used me,” he breathed, launching himself forward as a misty red fury clouded his mind. He’d allowed this man to be his most trusted disciple. He’d chosen him to be the last to die. A place of honor. And how had he been repaid for his kindness? Betrayal. “You bastard.”
If Ronnie had been in his right mind, he would have just shot the traitor. But his anger consumed him. He desperately needed to feel his fist crushing into Baylor’s smug face.
“It’s about damned time,” Baylor muttered as he easily dodged Ronnie’s wild swing and reached to wrench the weapon from his hand.
Then, with an expression of sheer triumph, he pressed the muzzle to Ronnie’s temple and pulled the trigger.
Oddly, Ronnie felt nothing. There was a bright flare of light, followed by a distant sound of thunder. Like a storm was approaching. Then his knees went weak and the world was painted black.
Wrapped in a peace he’d never experienced in life, he fell to the floor.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Carmen slapped her hand over her mouth, muffling her scream as she watched Ronnie sway and then tumble onto the cement floor.
Eventually she’d have to deal with everything she’d seen and heard since waking in the warehouse, probably with the help of some nice therapist. Ronnie and his crazy belief he was her half brother. Baylor’s cunning treachery. The Kill Club. And the sight of Ronnie lying dead just a few feet away.
But for now, she couldn’t give in to panic.