Page 37 of Crossfire Creek Vengeance

Good.

“If there’s a sniper out there, we’re all sitting ducks. Especially you,” she added.

Corbin shot Wynn a sharp look, one that said she has a point even if he didn’t voice it. Wynn swallowed hard, eyes still flicking everywhere like shadows might jump him.

“Fine,” Wynn finally growled. “We’ll talk. But fast. Noah might already know I’m out here.” He ran a trembling hand over his face. “If he wants to silence me… this is the perfect time.”

Deacon muttered a low curse, but Wynn kept going, leaning closer to the phone.

“But listen to me, Raines.” His voice dropped to something chilling. “If cops show up, if I see so much as a cruiser, I’m done. You’ll never hear another word from me. I’ll take the truth to my grave.”

Jessa felt a cold ripple run through her. Wynn meant it.

Deacon lowered the phone from speaker mode just long enough to fire off a rapid text to his deputies. Silent approach. Stay out of sight. Don’t move in unless I give the order.

He shifted his attention back to the live feed of Wynn and Corbin sitting in that truck like two lit fuses waiting for the spark.

“Corbin,” she said into the open call, “if you’re so sure Shade’s behind this, tell us specifically why. Why would he want us dead? Why kill Lauren?”

The man’s jaw moved, a tense grind visible even through the camera’s distortion. He blew out a breath. “Because Lauren stopped paying him,” he said flatly. “She quit the hush money. And Shade doesn’t handle rejection well.”

Jessa felt her stomach twist. “Hush money for what?”

“For the information he kept hacking out of her files,” Corbin said. “Financials. Property records. Private correspondence. Lauren thought he’d dug into Creed Response’s ops files too. She basically paid him to bury anything incriminating. And Shade made sure there was something incriminating to find.”

Deacon leaned forward, voice rough. “Explain that. You’re saying Shade set her up?”

Corbin nodded. “Maybe not just her. Roman, too.”

Black spots of fury danced behind Jessa’s eyes. “Set them up for what?”

Corbin didn’t hesitate. “For the murder of Clayton Hargrove.”

The name punched the air out of her lungs.

Jessa froze, her brain snagging on the memory. Clayton Hargrove. The wealthy rancher whose body had been found at his remote property. The evidence had pointed to Lauren and Roman, and Deacon had arrested them. Along with temporarily making her mother’s and brother’s lives a living hell, it had torn Deacon and her apart.

Clayton’s estranged wife and Lauren’s childhood friend, Lila, had eventually been convicted on circumstantial evidence—volatile marriage, financial motive, opportunity. But doubt had shadowed the case for months.

Deacon’s voice cut in, sharp and dangerous. “You’re saying Shade planted evidence that made Lauren and Roman look guilty of murdering Clayton Hargrove?”

“I think Shade hacked records, fabricated digital trails, whatever he had to do to make them look dirty,” Corbin replied. “When Lauren stopped paying him… he burned her.”

Jessa’s pulse hammered so hard her vision swam. Shade. Hacking her mother. Blackmailing her. Setting her up for murder.

Wynn’s voice broke through the call, hoarse and trembling. “Lauren didn’t deserve any of this.”

Jessa swallowed hard. No. She didn’t.

Corbin’s words hung in the air like smoke—thick, choking, impossible to ignore. Shade framed Lauren. Shade blackmailed her. Shade killed her. The pieces fit too well. Too neatly.

And that was exactly the problem.

Because as Jessa stared at Corbin’s face on the security feed, her skin prickled with doubt. Corbin knew how to lie. He knew how to sell a story. He knew how to twist a truth until it strangled you.

And he knew her. Knew Roman. Knew Lauren.

He’d watched the Creed household from the inside. He knew every one of their soft spots, every secret shame, every vulnerability.