When the Smoke Clears (Deadly Reunions) (33 page)

Hunter lifted a brow. “The dinner. Aren’t you going?”

Chad’s eyes flew upward and he groaned. “Aw man . . . no, I’d forgotten all about that.” He gave them a puppy dog look. “I hate those things.”

Hunter slapped his brother on the back, the first gesture of real camaraderie in a long while. “I know, bro, but it’s gotta be done.”

Chad grumbled, “Maybe I can get the flu between now and then.”

This time Hunter gave a genuine laugh. “No way. If Christine and I have to go, you do too.”

“And you’re going with him?” Chad asked Alexia.

“Yes.”

A sigh slipped out of Chad. A long, mournful sigh.

Hunter turned serious and lasered Chad with a deadly look. “Don’t let anything happen to her.”

37

Saturday, 10:40 a.m.

It was all Hunter could do to let the elevator door shut behind him. It had taken everything in him to leave Alexia with Chad. But . . . it had to be done.

Was he out of his mind leaving her alone with a man he had doubts about?

But this was Chad. His baby brother. Sure, he was a little messed up because of his wife’s desertion, but Chad wasn’t a murderer. Besides, he had no connection to Devin other than graduating with the man.

Hunter had checked. And felt guilty for doing so. But couldn’t deny he was relieved when nothing turned up. There was absolutely no evidence to suggest Chad was the one after Alexia.

Except that he kept turning up almost every time there was trouble. And he had the nerve to suggest the attacker was a woman.

Who reminded him of their sister, Christine.

Lunacy.

A chill shot through him. What if that was Chad’s way of throwing suspicion elsewhere?

Because if they started looking for a tall woman who worked out and was able to carry another woman the size of Alexia over her shoulder . . . well, that would take all eyes from the men in Alexia’s life, wouldn’t it?

And Chad definitely appeared to want to be a man in Alexia’s life.

And Hunter had just asked him to take her home.

But he had to know.

As Alexia and Chad exited the hospital, she couldn’t help but flinch as memories assailed her from the last time she’d walked out these doors. The orderly had let her out when the elevator doors opened and hadn’t bothered to argue when she claimed that she could make it out the doors unassisted.

Chad’s hand on her arm pulled her attention to his concerned eyes. “What is it?”

“Just some bad memories.”

“Ah yes, the shooter on the roof.” A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Good thing the guy was a lousy shot.”

She paused and looked at him. “I thought you thought it was a woman.”

He shrugged. “Well, yeah. I do. But Hunter thinks I’m crazy.”

Alexia decided not to touch that comment and climbed into the car. A sleek black Corvette. “Nice ride you have here.”

He flashed her a grin. “I’ve had this car since I graduated from the academy. A present from my parents.”

A pang shot through Alexia as she remembered her own graduation. High school graduation. All by herself. No family. No one to celebrate with her.

Except her two best friends.

“Have you heard from Jillian Carter?” she asked.

Chad jerked. “Jillian?”

“Yes. I know you remember her.” A memory dawned. “Didn’t you date her for a while?”

A red flush crept up his neck and into his cheeks. “We did. For about three months before what’s his name moved in on me.”

“Right. Colton Brady.”

“Yep. Colton.”

“What’s he doing now anyway?”

Chad barked a laugh. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Seriously. What’s he doing?”

A snort escaped Chad. “He’s an agent with SLED.”

Alexia lifted a brow. “Did everyone in our graduating class go into law enforcement?”

Chad let out a laugh as he made a right turn. “Kind of seems like it, doesn’t it?”

Then Chad pulled up in front of a beautiful brick home in one of the nicest neighborhoods in Columbia. She simply stared.

“Come on inside.” He smiled and a hint of a dimple dented his cheek.

She hadn’t been paying attention as he was driving. She’d been focused on the conversation. “Chad, I’m tired, I just want to go home. Please.”

“I know. And I’m going to take you there, but first I want to show you something.”

With a sigh, Alexia opened the door and climbed out. “What is it?”

“Follow me.”

She did. Reluctantly.

He opened the front door for her and she stepped inside an amazing foyer. Wood greeted her. Wood floors, wood paneling. Wooden staircase leading up to the second floor balcony. To her left was the den area. To the right, the kitchen. She looked at Chad. He seemed to be waiting for her to say something.

“It’s beautiful.” And it was.

Chad let the storm door close silently behind him as he stepped over the threshold. “It’s my refuge.”

She could imagine him leaving the front door open to the wide wraparound porch, sitting in the kitchen, listening to the night sounds through the screen door. “Why did you bring me here?”

“I wanted to share it with you.”

She sighed. “Look, Chad. I appreciate you want to share it with me. I do. But maybe another time. It’s been a rough day.”

Chad left the heavy wooden front door open and stomped across the open foyer and into the den. He turned and glared at her from across the room. “What is it about Hunter that makes him so special?”

She didn’t like the turn of this conversation. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, he always gets the promotion first, he always solves the case first, and he always gets the girl I’m interested in. What is up with that?”

She threw her hands up in frustration. “What do you want me to say?”

“It’s not so much what I want you to
say
as what I want you to
see
. I want you to see what I could give you, that I’m not a loser just because I drink a little too much sometimes. I’m not an alcoholic.” He frowned. “Although I can see why you would have that impression.”

She clenched her fists at her side. “No one ever said you were a loser.”

“But your actions say you believe it.”

“What actions?” she cried.

“The mooning over Hunter, for crying out loud! And ignoring me. What’s wrong with me?” She felt quite sure he hadn’t meant for the words to come out so petulant.

Alexia eyed the man and felt a twinge of sympathy for him—and maybe a smidge of fear? Warily, she backed up. “Nothing’s wrong with you, Chad. You’re a great guy. I just happen to be . . .” She searched for the right word, not wanting to use the first ones that came to mind—in love with. “. . . attracted . . . to your brother. It’s nothing personal. Nothing I could necessarily control. It just is.”

He stared at her and she blinked. The rage on his face sent shivers of real fear through her.

“Nothing personal?” he hissed.

Alexia backed toward the kitchen. She’d seen the back door as they pulled into the driveway. If she couldn’t get out the front, she’d settle for the back.

Chad took two steps toward her.

She held up a hand. “Stop. You’re scaring me.”

He froze. Then threw up his hands. “I don’t want to scare you. I want you to understand.”

“Understand what?” Frustration bit at her. How should she handle this?

The case of beer on the counter nailed home the fact that in spite of Chad’s attempts to get it together, he was still a man who needed help.

“Understand that I’m just as good a man as Hunter. I can give you all this and more. I did great in the stock market, pulled out before it crashed. I have enough money to set you up so you never have to work again.” His eyes pleaded with her for something. Something she didn’t have to give him.

“Chad . . .” She tried to sound soothing, but her heart stuttered in fear. He looked too much like her father in this moment. “There’s someone out there for you. Someone who’ll be lucky to get you. But it isn’t me,” she whispered.

A fist slammed down onto the mantel and she jumped, her mind flashing to her father, gun in hand, held against her sister’s head.

“Stop it!” she screamed at Chad. “Stop it! Don’t hurt her!” Her fingers curled around a beer can and she lifted it.

Time stopped and whirled back to that awful day. The smell of paint seared her nose. Drop cloths lined the floor to protect it from her father’s rare attempt to do something constructive around the house.

“Get me a beer, girl,” he ordered around the cigarette.

Alexia didn’t move.

He dropped the paintbrush into the little plastic tray and eyed her. “I said get me a beer, you useless twit.”

“Get your own beer,” she said, her tone defiant, scared, shaky, unsure about what she was saying.

The world stopped.

He stared at her, the cigarette dangling from his lips, forgotten. She hid her shaking hands behind the counter. The den opened up into the kitchen. Standing at the sink, she could see every move he made. “What did you say?”

“I said, ‘Get your own beer.’” Repeating the words fueled her courage. His shock surprised—and delighted—her. “You’ve treated me like a slave all my life. Well, I’m sick of it. And I’m sick of you.”

“Alexia, no,” her mother whispered from the basement door.

“Get me a beer! Now!” her father screamed at her.

Her heart pounded. With fear or what, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she wanted out from her miserable life. Maybe if he killed her, he would go to prison and her sister and mother would finally be free.

“No.” She kept her head up, her eyes locked on his.

“I’ll get it, honey.” Her mother scurried to the refrigerator. “I’ve got it right here.” She rushed to the now raging man and held the can out to him.

He whirled on his wife and knocked the hand that contained the can. Almost as an afterthought, he punched her in the face, sending her to the floor beside Karen.

Alexia flinched, dread creeping up on the courage.

Her mother moaned, “No, Greg, please don’t.”

Then Alexia felt her own rage building, like a fire that would consume her. Hate licked through her and her breathing grew ragged. She vaguely wondered why she wasn’t afraid. Just filled with loathing for the man in front of her.

She continued to stare him down, gaining courage from the hate. If this was the day she was to die, he was going with her.

Her fingers reached for the block of knives beside the sink. Wrapped around the largest one, but didn’t pull it out.

Yet.

He stalked her. Moved toward her, slowly, like a leopard after prey, his eyes blazing with some emotion she couldn’t define. “Well, well,” he hissed. “Is one of my sorry kids trying to grow a spine?”

He came within touching distance. Then he paused as though trying to figure out who she was. She saw the moment his eyes changed. That crazy wild look replaced the puzzlement and his fist pulled back.

In a flash, she slid the knife out of the holder and held it in front of her. “Hit me and it’ll be the last thing you ever do.” Alexia didn’t raise her voice. She just stated a fact. And noticed the shakiness was gone from her. The knife didn’t even tremble.

Stunned, he stumbled back from her. She still didn’t move, didn’t breathe, didn’t blink. Felt the coldness sweep through her. Freezing her. Her emotions, her feelings, everything she was. And she knew she wasn’t lying. If he took one step toward her, she would plunge the knife straight into his evil heart.

Something of what was in her must have shown on her face.

Fear flashed across his features. Then anger. Then more fear as he took another step away from her. And another step until he was on the other side of the kitchen.

Satisfaction filled her.

Elation made her nearly dizzy.

She’d fought back and beaten her father.

He turned his back on her and walked toward the basement stairs. And disappeared down them.

The hate still buzzed inside her, and for a moment, she was tempted to follow him and finish what she’d threatened.

But her mother and sister needed help.

Dropping the knife into the sink, she rushed to them.

Karen sat against the sofa staring at Alexia, stunned with awe, and something she thought might be respect, in her eyes. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

She looked at her sister. “You need to get out of here now. Go somewhere, anywhere. You don’t want to be here.” Karen simply sat like a rock. “Go!”

Not waiting to see if Karen obeyed her or not, she turned to focus on her mother.

The woman had passed out. Alexia shook her shoulder. “Mom?”

The first bullet shattered the window above Karen’s head. The second plowed the floor beside Alexia and her mother.

Karen screamed and Alexia whirled to see her father standing at the top of the steps, his hunting rifle held in his hands.

His eyes were on her.

“Get. Me. A. Beer.”

The cold words sent shivers darting up her spine, terror clawing at her soul.

She didn’t move, her only thought was that she should have kept the knife instead of throwing it in the sink.