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…framing people and making it look like they committed murder.
That’s exactly what happened to Forrest.
After years of accidents and natural deaths written off as that, despite the few naysayers who argued differently. Thentheywere killed as well. Now this?
An entirely different story.
Or a new chapter in one.
Kenna didn’t get it.
Lord, I have to figure this out. There’s no way Jim and Forrest are connected. At best it could be the same people, or someone who got the idea from them.
She tapped her fingers against her leg, trying to get her mind to assimilate the information faster than it was. Dumb car accidents, and getting shoved. She’d blacked out too many times this week. It wasn’t helping her operate at full capacity.
Pilsborough sat with Destain at the table.
Jax came over and touched her side, then slid his arm around her back. Staking his claim.
Kenna shifted her gaze to meet his, turning slightly toward him.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“We need to figure this out.”
Jax squeezed her very slightly. “We need to get somewhere safe. After that, we can run it all down and figure it out.”
“That could be too late.” Forrest might not have that kind of time. “Who is Jim testifying against?” Surely he knew.
Given the shift in his expression, he did. And he knew she wasn’t going to like it. “Cecilia Warren.”
Everything in Kenna iced over like the ground outside. “Why did they let you come along? You could be working with her.”
Jax shook his head. “Pilsborough knows me.” Maybe the marshal knew he might need assistance—the kind he knew he could trust. “And I explained you’d be the one doing the escort for the sheriff’s department.”
Kenna squeezed the outside of his arm and left her hand there. Still, she tried not to make it look like she was clinging to him. She twisted in his hold so she could see Jim, who stared at her. “Cecilia Warren?”
He nodded.
The front window exploded, and Jim’s body jerked.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The world spun around her. It took Kenna a second, but she realized Jax still had a hold on her. They tumbled together onto the overturned couch.
The arm provided some coverage, but they couldn’t stay here.
“Keep low,” he whispered.
She shook off the surprise and lifted her chin. The fire in his eyes was part anger and part affection—a whole lot of feeling—and was all directed at her. The force of it was almost overpowering. She had to blink and hang on for a second.
At least long enough for reality to set in.
Someone was shooting at them.
Kenna wrapped one leg around his and rolled them both onto the floor. A shot embedded itself in a book, knocking over a whole row into the bedroom.
“I’ll take Jim.” He let go of her and crawled across the floor, around the end of the couch.