Page 88 of Hidden Resolution

And she was sorry to be lost. None of it really mattered. Unemployment afforded her the opportunity to mourn the sister of her heart.

By the call’s end, her headache had grown exponentially, and she feared her head would explode with the slightest provocation.

“So how do we do this?” she asked with a tired sigh, after closing her laptop.

Mason cut a sharp, lethal glance at Billy. “Say the word, and they’ll never find the body,” he promised. The threat was wrong on every level, but she enjoyed her cousin’s terror.

“I’m honored you’d do that for me,” she replied cheekily.

“Perhaps we should put him in your new car, blow it up, and say he was setting a second bomb.”

Billy’s already fear-filled eyes grew wider.

“Nah. I’m partial to my new baby. Jail is good enough. It’s going to take him a while to get out for attempted murder. GenCon has a whole team of lawyers willing to send him away for the theft alone.”

She approached Billy and untied his gag.

“Care to explain? I thought…” She clamped her jaw closed against the hurt. Yes, she’d believed he loved her, but he was one more in a long line who’d let her down on that front.

Betrayal was a bitter pill. She seriously had to lower her expectations of people.

Billy, sensing weakness, went for the Oscar. “I’m sorry, Shonda. I love you. You’re my cousin. The only real family I have. But I needed the money,” he whined, continuing until he registered she was unmoved.

She untied his legs and pointed to the hall bathroom. “Get cleaned up.”

Triumph shone on his smarmy face, and he had the nerve to bend in an attempt to kiss her cheek.

“Don’t,” she snarled. “Don’t you dare touch me.” Tamping down her murderous rage, she added, “You should get cleaned up for your mugshot. Can’t have anyone believing you were beaten to coerce a confession.”

Ugliness replaced his elation, and his eyes darkened with hatred.

And there it was. The truth of his feelings. It shouldn’t taste like ashes in her mouth, but it did.

Billy paused to sum up the new, take-no-shit Shonda, then cast Mason a calculating glance before storming down the hall.

She collapsed in the seat he’d vacated. Her palms cradled her forehead as she stared at the floor, half wishing she could cry. Yet the tears wouldn’t come. She was all sobbed out.

The scrape of a sliding chair brought her head up.

Mason joined her, and for the longest minute, neither spoke. As he opened his mouth, a thud came from the bathroom. Shoving open the door, they found the window was open, the screen missing, and Billy gone.

“Motherfucker!”

Mason rushed for the front door as she peeked over the window ledge.

Billy was up and loping away.

“So much for turning him over to the police.”

As the blue Maxima sped by, Mason calculated the odds of it being the one from the car lot. By the time he reached thetop landing, he was in a full-blown rage. Because one, he and Shonda would probably never make out against another vehicle. Two, he was exhausted due to a lack of sleep. And three—this one pissed him off the most—Billy had outsmarted him.

He hadn’t realized there was a window in the guest bathroom, but he should’ve checked. And really, did the kid have a death wish, jumping from three stories up? How did he not break his fool neck?

Mason entered to find Shonda was fluffing pillows and generally straightening the place. She appeared to be on autopilot.

“Shonda.”

“What?”