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“At the time, I was rescuing a damsel in distress,” he admitted with a rueful grin.
I couldn’t help a soft chuckle. “You are not a hero.”
“Nope. But for you, I want to be.”
“Ha, that’s bullshit. The first time we met, you yelled at me.”
“Because I was confused. I went from a deep, dreamless sleep to meeting you in what used to be my place.”
“When you say you remember…” I hesitated.
“You want to know if I recall my death.”
I nodded. Morbid, and yet I needed to know. “Was it a gang hit?”
“No. The detective on my case, the one I told you kept hounding me, he shot me four times in the chest and then once in the face.”
My stomach clenched. “What was that detective’s name?”
“Walker.”
I gripped the wrench so hard, my knuckles turned white. “Brayden Walker?”
“No. His father, Silas. Fucker came to harass me about the folks dying in the city. When I wouldn’t roll over and confess, he shot me in the garage. I bled out all over my ride. Things went dark for a while.” His head dropped. “I woke up when I heard you crying out for help.”
I could fill in the blanks to a certain point. Silas Walker must have disposed of the body and hidden the bike covered in blood. What I didn’t understand was Brayden’s role.
“Brayden’s dad shot you because he thought you were the Triclaw Killer?”
He nodded.
“If you’re dead, then why is Brayden obsessed with you?”
The reply came from the man himself. “Because Mahoney killed my father.”
CHAPTER25
“Brayden? What are you doing here?”Nerves strung tight, I kept a close eye on Brayden, currently walking—or was the more appropriate term rolling?—the wolf bike towards me. No longer the clean-cut guy I’d gotten to know, I didn’t recognize this version dressed all in black, openly wearing a sidearm. Black cargo pants, tight, long-sleeved T-shirt. Over that, a Kevlar vest. Heavy, black boots and his gauntlets appeared to be of a thick gauge—armored in anticipation of battle.
“Why do you think I’m here, Allie?” He shook the motorcycle. “I told you to leave it buried. But you just had to bring the past back to life.”
Mahoney sidled close. “Don’t trust him.”
“I don’t,” I muttered.
Brayden halted by the bulky frame of the compactor. “Have you finished with the repairs?”
How did he know I was working on it? Given his interest, I lied. “Not even close to done.” I clung tightly to the socket wrench in my hand. Not as hefty as the pipe version, but would still do some damage if swung.
“Lying again. You seem to have made a habit of it. To be expected, I guess, givenhisinfluence.” Brayden glanced at me, and the disdain shocked me.
I snapped, “You’re one to talk about lying,Detective.I know you weren’t assigned my case.”
“That part might have been a fib, but I am a detective with the OPP.”
“Really? Wonder what they’d think if they heard what you’ve been up to.”
“Nothing, because you won’t be talking to anyone about us.” The confident smirk begged for a punch.
