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He flinched when a hand settled on his back, working in slow circles. He smelled vanilla. Val.
“You need to come inside, Kaj. It’s not safe for you to be out here like this.”
“You should be with Elijah.”
“Burke’s got the back. I’m watching the front. Elijah is fine.” The combination of her calm voice and her firm touch helped. He sucked in lungfuls of air and slowly straightened.
“Thank you.”
She smiled at him. “You’re welcome.” She removed her hand and he wanted to beg her to put it back. But they’d nearly crossed the line earlier. He’d nearly kissed her.
He couldn’t allow that to happen again. She was here to protect his son.
Soberly, he followed her back inside.
Bayou des Allemands, Louisiana
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 25, 8:45 P.M.
Jace curled up on the bed in Aaron’s cabin, numb. His head ached from the crying and the stress. And the chemical smell of Aaron’s cabin. But mostly because of what he’d done.
He’d betrayed his own brother.
I’m a coward. I should have stopped it. I should have said no.
But he and Rick had learned a long time ago that they couldn’t say no to Corey. At least not without a beating.
Or being shot in the head.
The cops would have Rick by now. That lady who’d run to the door, the one with the dog. She might have been a cop. Jace shuddered at the memory. That dog... It had been huge.
What if that dog had attacked Rick? His brother would have been mauled.
If he’s still alive.
Jace closed his eyes, his head throbbing and his stomach sick. Why did Aaron’s cabin smell so bad? He wasn’t sure how long he’d lain there, but the smell was making him sick.
Could he open a window? Corey hadn’t told him not to. He’d be madder if Jace puked.
When Jace and Rick had the flu last year, Corey had cursed at them, then left them to take care of themselves. For a whole week. He and Rick had taken turns making microwave chicken soup. But they’d been without Corey’s beatings, so it’d been worth having the flu.
Damn. Jace could barely breathe, the smell was so bad. He had to do something.
He inched toward the window and slid it open, pressing his face against the screen to get a breath of fresh air. Gradually the nausea passed, but his head still throbbed. He willed himself not to cry any more. Crying would just make his headache worse.
He’d nearly fallen asleep when the sound of voices jerked him back to awareness.
“Goddamn, this fucker is heavy.”
That was Corey. Cautiously Jace pressed closer to the screen, squinting. What was Corey doing?
The moon was full and shone like a spotlight on the four men leaving Corey’s quarters. Ed was there, too, and he and Corey were dragging someone between them. It was a naked man. Bobby followed behind, holding the huge gun he’d worn in his chest holster all day.
Corey, Ed, and Bobby all wore headphones. No, they were the earmuffs they used when they went shooting at the range. Then Jace’s gaze zeroed in on the naked man’s upper arm.
A dragon tattoo. Just like mine. It was Dewey. And he was covered in blood. So much blood. What had they done to him? And why?
They’d stopped at the edge of the water and Bobby was aiming his big gun at Dewey’s head.
