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Sofi stifles a sudden, snorted laugh. Neither of us have ever heard Melanie lose her absolute shit until right now. I have to tap the volume down just to accommodate the shrieking.
“Oh! That bitch is DEAD! FUCKING! DEAD! I’m gonna skin her spray-tanned ass alive! I’m gonna?—”
Jameson’s voice cuts in dryly. “As you’ve probably guessed, we’re packing up and will be on our way. Thanks for the sitter. We’ll text you when we land.”
“Text Mak. He’ll meet you at the helipad. I will be in a meeting.”
“You’re going to a meeting right now?”
I don’t answer. I let the silence fill in the blanks for me.
To his credit, Jameson does actually catch on to what I mean. “Ah. A meeting meeting. Need any assistance?”
“We’re good. We’ll keep you posted.”
Sofi waits for me to hang up before chiming in. “We could use a lookout.”
“We have our men.” I pass a hand through my hair just to ease the tension in my fingers. “And he has his family.”
She doesn’t say anything more to that.
We get the address from Damien, who didn’t take long at all to locate Brittany and follow her back to her house. I would have thought she’d go to an emergency room somewhere.
Better she’s here than there, though. Makes it easier for me to do what I need to do.
I drive us past her house to make sure we have the correct address before going in. When I’m certain, I circle back around and park one block down.
Damien emerges from the shadows and joins us in the shadow of a tree. “She went inside. Neighbors on both sides are gone.”
I nod and check the houses across the street for signs of potential witnesses. Nothing stirs. No one moves. “She alone?”
“No other cars in the garage. I haven’t seen any other movement since she got here.”
“How long ago?”
“About ten minutes.”
Sofi tugs on a pair of leather gloves. “We’ll need just as long. Any police activity in the area?”
Damien shakes his head. “None. I’ve got Tyler on the scanner, but so far, they’re focusing on the crime scene and other shit.”
“Good. Make sure it stays that way. You know what to do.”
Sofi and I part at the gate. She takes the front door, while I test the lock to the back and find it open. Idiot woman.
I slip inside, listen for movement, and stay in the shadows of the darkened mud room.
The doorbell rings. I hear someone hiss a curse, then footsteps creak across the upstairs floor and to the stairs. Those creak and groan even louder, bearing the slumping weight of Brittany Cleary.
A part of me warms with pride. It’s very obvious Daphne not only put up a good fight—she beat the ever-loving shit out of this woman. Brittany keeps favoring her left side, bracing a hand to her ribs, and grunts in pain every time she leans on one foot.
“I’m coming! I’m coming!” she snaps at the door when the doorbell rings again.
Sofi grins at her. There’s no mirth in her eyes. “Hello.”
Brittany turns on her heels and sprints for the back door. But I’m already through the kitchen and I meet her in the archway, letting her slam into my chest. She hisses another string of curse words at me—until, again, she sees who it is.
When the recognition hits, every last drop of blood drains from her face.
