Page 125 of Faded Gray Lines

Leighton.

“Fire?” His vacant eyes sharpened with one word. “Mom, leave your phone on. I can track it.” Disconnecting the call, he ran down the stairs bypassing both Val and me.

Ten minutes into driving north on I-69, I couldn’t take it anymore. As Val texted all available nearby soldiers to meet up with us, I lost it.

“What the hell is going on, Harcourt?”

His hand tightened around his phone as his eyes remained glued to the dot on the GPS map we were tracking. “I don’t know exactly. My mother was hysterical. From what I could get out of her, Leighton called her and said to meet her off Lauder Road. When she got there, it was on fire.”

“But she got out, right?”

Brody didn’t answer. He just kept staring at that damn red dot. I hated that dot.

“Brody,” I exploded, slamming my fist against the headrest, “where the fuck is Leighton?”

Still nothing.

“Brody!”

Slamming his fist into the dashboard, he turned around, his face ravaged. “She didn’t make it out, all right?”

Denial was a funny thing. Sometimes it drove a man to the darkest depths of depravity, and sometimes it propelled him into blissful ignorance.

Right now, I chose ignorance.

Because in ignorance, my angel still walked the earth.

* * *

Brody was the first one out of the car. His footing wasn’t stable, and if I gave half a shit to be near Lilith Donovan, I could’ve had her facedown with a bullet in her brain before he closed his door. But I didn’t. I knew she’d put on a show first.

Ignorance still fueled me. Leighton was alive, and until I knew differently, no one would convince me otherwise.

Lilith lay sprawled out in the middle of a deserted field like farm roadkill. Val was the first one to notice and point out the plume of smoke rising above the trees. Without a word, I headed back to the Land Rover when he stopped me with a hard arm across my chest.

“We have men who are closer.” Pressing a button on his phone, he instantly connected with one. “There’s a fire on the Grayson property.” He held my gaze. “Get everyone out—dead or alive.”

As his last words hung in the air, I turned toward Brody. I had to hand it to him; he played the concerned son role so well, I almost bought it.

Squatting beside Lilith, he called her name repeatedly. “Mom? Mom? Mom!” She finally stopped moaning long enough to reach for him, but Brody tensed and pulled back. “Where’s Leighton?”

Flailing her arm, she pointed diagonally to the right. “I couldn’t save her. He turned my baby girl into a monster,” she howled, rolling around again. “Then he killed her.”

I’d had enough. “Who killed her?”

“Emilio Reyes!”

“What are you saying?” Brody asked. “Leighton would never hurt anyone. And what does Emilio have to do with all this?” He was baiting her—trying to push her buttons into slipping the noose around her own neck.

“You,” she accused, pointing a shaking finger at me. “You brainwashed her. You brought her into your sick world, and he got in her head. You turned her against her own family.”

“Mom, stop!”

“Don’t believe me? She called me and lured me here. You can hear her for yourself.” Pulling her phone out of the pocket of her pantsuit, she cued up the message and put it on speaker.

“Hello?”

“I think we can help each other. I’m not as stupid as you think I am, but that’s okay, neither are you. It’s time to cut the crap and be who we are, don’t you think?”