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“Know what?”
“You never wondered how you got out without anyone coming after you?” Dane gives me a disapproving look. “You’re a Legacy, but you were able to leave Forest Falls. That didn’t sit funny with you?”
His words chew through the thin layer of protection I’ve built around the part of my mind that has always wondered how I got out—how I’ve stayed out of Forest Falls. “I’m a woman.”
“You think being a woman saved you?” His scoff is harsh, a derisive sound that splits the air between us. “You think Mingus MacAlister suddenly went soft on women? After what he did to his wife? You’re not an idiot, Charity.”
A shudder runs through me at the reminder of Amalie MacAlister. She was kind, always talking to me like one of the adults, even when I was a child. She told me once she’d wanted daughters, but God had blessed her with five healthy sons. The way she looked at her husband when she said those words has stuck with me my entire life. It was as if she was saying two things at once, and I was just too young to hear the second thing.
She died a few months before I left for Paris. Mingus killed her and hung her decapitated head in his home as a warning to any traitors within the MacAlisters. If he could do that to his wife, to the mother of his children, what do you think he would do to you?
“How did I get out, Dane?”
He opens his mouth, but the sound of his phone vibrating against the wooden tabletop cuts off whatever he’s about to say. I can’t see the name lighting up the screen, but the change in Dane’s demeanor gives me a pretty good guess it’s someone involved with the MacAlisters.
“I have to take this.” He stands, moving toward the bedroom with quick steps and leaving me alone with my thoughts.
How did I get out? I didn’t think about it at the time because I assumed I would move back as soon as I was done with art school. Then, I came back to the States and just... didn’t go home. I stayed in Florida with friends I met in France, then moved to the West Coast for a job at a gallery that eventually led me to New York. In the early years, I expected someone to drag me back home. I even thought they might come for me in the “and she was never seen again” kind of way, but nothing happened. No one jumped around any darkened corners or appeared in my home at night.
I’m just finishing my danish when Dane strolls back into the dining room. He changed clothes while on the phone. The soft grey sweatshirt and dark blue jeans look more comfortable than his earlier outfit, but they aren’t exactly pajamas. “You sleep in jeans now?”
His laughter is a warm embrace after the seriousness of our conversation before. “No, fuckface. I’m not sleeping today.”
“Why not?”
“We’ve got a job to go to.”
“We do?” I can’t keep the surprise out of my voice. What job could I possibly have in Forest Falls?
He smirks at me, moving toward the kitchen to throw away his empty coffee cup. “Go get ready. Wear something you don’t mind getting dirty.”
“You’re really not going to tell me what we’re doing?”
“I’m really not.”
Dane takes us into the heart of Bray Forest, a twenty-minute drive from his apartment on the edge of Forest Falls. We pass through the quiet, unassuming town of Bray Creek with little notice. Despite sharing a border with Forest Falls, nothing ever happens here.
We eventually reach a driveway where I see two men installing security cameras at the top of a massive wrought iron gate. One of them is hanging from the top of the gate by his knees, fiddling with the camera. At our approach, he turns his head just far enough for me to realize it’s Lachlan MacAlister. I haven’t seen him since he was a child, but his dirty blond hair and sharp blue gaze are undeniable. Those cold eyes lock on me before his face breaks into a crooked grin, and I’m forced to admit that, even upside down, he’s grown into a wickedly handsome young man.
“Hey, Mads,” Dane calls toward the man on the ground as he approaches our car. His dark hair and broad shoulders make him and Lachlan seem like opposites, but their eyes mark them as brothers. Maddock bends enough to look through the window, a familiar smile spreading across his face when he recognizes me.
“Well, well. If it isn’t Charity Lawson.” Maddock rests his tattoo-covered arms on Dane’s windowsill, hunching enough I can see the tattoos on his neck continue beneath his shirt collar, covering his entire chest.
“Hey, Maddock,” I reply with a slight raise of my brow. “How are you?”
“Better than I was yesterday,” he admits with a slight shrug of one shoulder. “What brings the two of you to this part of the woods?”
“Callum called,” Dane explains, leaning back in his seat to look up at whatever Lachlan is doing on top of the gate. “He said you guys needed help with cleanup.”
Maddock turns in time to see his brother drop to the ground behind him. Shifting to the side, he lets Lachlan saunter up to the window.
“We already got the bodies, though I’m convinced we could have been more thorough in their disposal.” The way Lachlan trails off makes me think he’s imagining all the ways they could have been more thorough. “You must be Charity.”
“You don’t remember me, Lally?”
Lachlan smiles brightly at his childhood nickname. Turning toward Maddock, he loudly whispers, “She called me Lally.”
“You’re an idiot, and she’s off limits.” Maddock huffs, pushing Lachlan out of the way again.
