Page 120 of Dark Notes

“No.” A flicker of life stirs in the muddy brown depths of her eyes. “Shane stopped him.”

Did her brother have a stroke of guilt? A sudden heart transplant? A hidden agenda? Hell knows why he stepped in, but fuck, I’m breathing a little easier knowing he did.

Shane’s wheezing grows louder, more frantic, his blood-shot eyes on the waste of life that was Lorenzo. Maybe Shane isn’t a threat at the moment, but he will be if he runs. Honestly, he looks like he’s seconds from a meltdown.

Another text comes in. I pull the phone from my pocket, but Shane’s guttural cry draws my attention.

He covers his face with his hands, wailing like a fucking pansy. “He was my best friend.” His body rocks. “Oh God, he saved my life, and we killed him.”

I maintain a towering stance above him, a position of power. “We killed the sack of shit who’s been raping your sister for four years.”

Snapping his jaw shut, he looks away.

Ivory stares at the floor, her expression blank. She’s in shock. But she’s strong as hell. There isn’t a doubt in my mind she’ll be sassing me again in no time.

I refocus on Shane and steel my voice with authority. “You’re in deeper shit than I am.”

His eyes lift, tears falling down his face. “How’s that? We both—”

“Castle law. In the state of Louisiana, I have the right to defend myself and others on my property. That includes the use of deadly force against intruders. Justifiable homicide.” I point at Ivory. “I was fucking justified.”

Problem is, if I call the cops, I’ll be arrested for a different crime. My high school student wasn’t just visiting my house while I was at work. She lives here. I won’t be able to hide that. Not with Shane involved. If I turn him in, he’ll return the favor.

I have two choices. Call the authorities and face a publicized student-teacher trial that would destroy not only my future, but Ivory’s. Or deal with the body and make all of this go away.

The second option only works with Shane’s cooperation. As much as I want to bury his worthless ass with Lorenzo, we’re in this together.

I glance at my phone. A missed call and two texts from my PI.

Smith: Gandara is free.

No shit. I look up at Schubert in Ivory’s arms, his neck hanging awkwardly, likely broken. A renewed wave of anger funnels through me.

Smith: Released yesterday. My CI just contacted me. Lawyer argued PTSD as grounds for an insanity defense. Got an appeal. Reduced sentence. I’ll be in touch as soon as I locate Gandara’s whereabouts.

Lorenzo had a year left on his sentence. At least now I don’t have to worry about dealing with his release.

I type out an acknowledgment since that’s what I would do if I weren’t standing over a dead body. I’ll let the PI look for Lorenzo. It’s a risk, but I need to see if his investigation leads him back to me.

Shane’s gaze bounces between the phone in my hand and the door, as if considering escape. “You can’t call the cops, man. I stopped him from raping her!” His voice rises. “I killed my best friend. For her.”

“Shut the fuck up.” I hit send on the text and drill my gaze into his. “You broke into my house. You’re an accomplice to murder. If you run, I’ll make the call. If you give me what I want, this stays between the three of us.”

He swallows. “What do you want?”

“Answers. Cooperation.” I flick a hand at the body. No way in hell can I lift that big motherfucker by myself. “Then you’ll crawl back into whatever hole you’ve been in for the past three months and never come back.”

“Okay.” He nods, his throat bobbing and eyes shifty. “I can do that.”

I don’t fucking trust him. In a perfect world, I would’ve killed Lorenzo without another soul knowing about it. Two witnesses are two risks too many. Ivory won’t betray me, but whatever knowledge she has about my next steps could incriminate her. I need to distance her from it.

I also need to disentangle her from Schubert.

“Ivory.” As I wait for her to look at me, I remember the reason I rushed home. “Do you need to use the bathroom?”

“I—” She hugs the cat against her neck, looks down at her bare legs, at the floor by the bathroom door, and back at her legs. “I might’ve…” Her chin quivers. “I’m sorry.”

Sorry for what? Releasing her bladder while fighting off a rapist?

I capture her arm and pull her to me. “I hope you fucking pissed all over him.”

Her hand strokes the cat’s fur. “I hope so, too.”

I slide my arm around her waist, shifting her against me with Schubert between us. I move my other hand over his eyes, brushing them closed, petting his soft fur, letting myself mourn his death.