Page 263 of Things We Left Behind

He shot me a crooked grin. “They believed it once already.”

His words sank in slowly. “Jesus! You didn’t kill Tate because you were protecting Nash. You killed him because you were protecting yourself.”

“I waited till he pulled the trigger, thinking either he would take care of Nash for me or he was out of bullets. Son of a bitch never did learn to count his rounds. I hated to do it. He was my friend, but Tate was a loose fucking cannon. He would have run his mouth to the wrong guy eventually.”

“So you killed your own friend.”

“According to the official report, I shot a man defending an officer of the law,” he corrected.

“And what’s the official report going to say this time?”

He shrugged. “I was just returning my library books.”

He was going to do it. He was going to shoot me and ruin Nash and Lina’s rehearsal night. I grabbed a hefty hardback off the side table and hurled it at Wylie’s head. Both guns went off as I launched myself over the couch.

I landed hard, catching my jaw on the sharp edge of the console table leg. More bullets flew, this time through my couch. I rolled, gained my feet, and sprinted low through the dining room, pulling chairs down after me.

He was close, but I knew every inch of this house. I darted through the kitchen and backtracked into the hallway where I took the stairs two at a time.

The sirens were getting louder now.

“You can’t run from me,” Wylie shouted from the foot of the stairs.

“And you can’t expect me to stand still so you can shoot me!”

His boots hit the stairs.

A streak of fur passed me on the landing as I hustled for the second floor, I heard a thump and muffled swearing.

Thank God for asshole cats. Meow Meow had just bought me precious seconds.

I heaved myself up the last steps and ran face-­first into a hard, male body. I was just getting ready to kick the shit out of him when a hand clamped over my mouth and I was lifted off the floor.

47

Wrongs Righted

Lucian

Stop kicking, Pix,” I hissed as I shut and locked her bedroom door behind us.

I released my flailing fiancée, and she spun around to face me. She was wearing the pink cocktail dress that I’d personally picked out because it clung to her curves in all the right places. Her hair was secured in a high, platinum ponytail with strands escaping everywhere. Her glasses were a spring green that only served to make her eyes look brighter. There was a bloody gash on her jawline.

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” I announced. Rage bloomed inside me like a deadly flower.

Sloane lunged for me and held on tight. “You can’t. It’s Wylie.”

“I know. I saw the security footage just before it cut off.”

“He made me think he was going to help me. Then he shot the judge. Oh yeah. The judge was here too, but I think he’s dead in the foyer. And then he tried to shoot me. Wylie, not the dead judge. And he’s the one who put Nash’s name on the list,not Dilton. Oh my God, and he murdered Dilton to keep him quiet, not to save Nash. I am so pissed! Do you know how long it’s going to take to get bloodstains out of hardwood? And they burned my library!”

The words came out in a deluge of indignation, but her explanation only served to light a match inside me.

“You can’t hide from me long enough to stay alive, Sloane. I’ll drop you where I find you before the cops get here,” Wylie announced from the hallway. We heard the clomp of his boots and the creak of doors as he started checking rooms.

In the distance, I heard sirens. I’d just pulled into the driveway when I heard the gunshots. It had taken years off my life.

I grabbed a clean handkerchief from the dresser and pressed it to Sloane’s face.