Page 97 of Lock
Guess I’m not the only one Helen is sending updates to. I glance at my watch again.
“You got somewhere to be?”
I meet Daniel’s intrusive stare. “I promised Shelby I’d be there when she wakes up.”
Cooper mumbles, the words muffled by his gag.
Stepping around him, I tug the cloth out of his mouth. The knot at the back of his head is tight. He cringes when I pull it over his red and swollen lip to below his chin.
“You want to add something?”
Cooper laughs, but the split lip and blood-soaked temple take any humor out of it. “You really think you can get away with this? You’re going to jail, all of you.”
Kaleb looks around. “Do you not see where you are, asshole?”
Cooper sobers quickly. “Fuck you!” he hisses. “Do they know that you’re screwing their little sister?”
Kaleb reacts immediately, rushing forward, but he’s not quick enough. Within three large strides, Daniel crosses the porch.
“You talk too much.”
The sound of the sole of his boot connecting with Cooper’s chest is something I’ll hold dear forever. A crunch that says something is definitely broken.
The bound man flies through the air, his body going over the porch steps and landing in the dirt with a thud.
He coughs, and blood splatters his face.
Michael sighs from his seat.
“No!” Kaleb points at the seated man. “I told you we were done waiting.”
Raising his brow, Michael stands. “You’re forgetting a witness.” He gestures to me.
I place a hand on my chest. “My phone is in my car. If anyone ever finds out, my location will show I was also here. I’m assuming the three of you talked after Kaleb and I did?”
Michael nods.
“I’ll stay out of your business if you stay out of mine,” I offer. “And just this once, we’ll . . . work together.”
“And what was your contribution?”
“Other than bringing him here?” I snark. “A broken clavicle, broken wrist, and a reoccurring concussion. It’s the least I could do.”
“Fair,” Daniel acknowledges, tilting his head to me but keeping his body facing Cooper from where he stands at the top of the stairs. “You can go.”
When I only blink back at him, the oldest Cromwell expands, “You made a promise. Keeping your word means everything.” Meeting my gaze, he gives his own promise. “He’ll be dead within an hour.”
“Spoilsport,” Kaleb whispers from the right of his brother.
Daniel smirks. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out a folded knife and holds it out for Kaleb to take.
“See how well he sings without his tongue.”
My heart races at Michael’s words.
Knowing and seeing are two separate things.The Cromwells and I are two kinds of killers.
“Leave,” Daniel’s deep tone orders. Stepping back from the stairs, he makes room for Kaleb to pass. The man wastes no time, and neither do I.
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