Page 115 of Lesson In Forgiveness

Anarchy and Ashford were working their asses off trying to track the fuckers down, and Atticus was deploying one of his best merc teams to assist in a physical hunt and detain mission.

Evander was even now moving Elias and Callie to their new home at Serenity, where they had access to a fully functional saferoom should anything kick off. There was only the basic security system in place, but it was enough to alert them in an emergency.

Dreading what he needed to do next, he refused to watch the video a second time and called Jasper instead. His friend answered, but before he could say hello, a bloodcurdlingly shrill scream dominated the call.

Wincing, Grit yanked the phone away from his ear until the noise stopped. “Jasper?”

“Kaylyn, how many times have I told you not to answer my phone? Specifically not to answer it while screaming like some demented banshee?” Frustration laced the sadist’s tone. “It’s no good tearing up, tiny demon. Making choices means taking the consequences. This is a choice you made, so now you don’t get any TV time when we get home.”

Kaylyn was, in many ways, her mother’s double. Sweet as freaking sugar at the heart of her, but she knew damn well how to be the biggest, most annoying brat possible when required. It was probably an inherited trait because, as far as Grit knew, Anarchy tried her utmost to be on her best behavior when the kids were around.

The second scream was less banshee and more pissed off child. Higher pitch, angrier, with an edge of defiance.

Shaking his head, Grit let the drama play out; he imagined Jasper’s attention wasn’t even remotely on who was calling him. He was definitely the stricter parent of the two, which balanced nicely with Anarchy’s more merciful approach.

“Would you like me to extend your punishment to a week, Kaylyn? If so, by all means, continue with that godawful racket.” The almost gleeful pause before he spoke again was pure sadist. “And if you think we’re getting ice cream on the way back, think again, tiny demon.”

The screaming died off into a pathetic whimper.

“That’s better. Go find your mom and a quiet corner, then park your butt until I come to get you. Go,” he added darkly, obviously meeting resistance. After a long ten seconds, he finally said, “Grit?”

“Trouble in Daddyland?”

“No more than usual.”

“That’s good, because I’m in a whole heap of shit here. We all are.”

“Don’t tell me the goddamn Irish have invaded already?” Jasper’s words might have been joking, but the tone was not. “A-team is on route but they’re a few hours out yet. If you need backup, you’re going to have hold down the fort.”

“Donaghue hasn’t made his move. Your sister’s about to make hers.”

A single moment, vibrating with growing anger. “What the fuck did she do now?”

What the hell could he answer with? She left me? She’s threatened to kill any of us if we get in her way? She’s back to being the same crazy assassin we all know and fear? She’s on a fucking suicide mission? “Our friendly neighborhood hitwoman is armed to the teeth and on the hunt. Knives, gun, garrote, knuckledusters. At a guess, she has all of, if not more, of the information we do.”

“You told her?”

“No. I just got back to the room; she was already gone. She left me a phone with a video set up. Tabitha’s on the fucking warpath, J. She wants this kill and she’ll go through all of us to get it.”

Jasper’s sigh resembled a snarl. “My sister is the biggest pain in the ass; I don’t know what you see in her when she gets like this. I’ll notify the incoming team, advise them to neutralize her if she crosses their path.”

Panic struck Grit in the heart. “She’ll retaliate, J. You know she will.”

“The guys have Tasers. Grafton carries a tranq gun alongside his official weapon. If she decides to interfere and tangles with them, she’ll be drugged to high hell, hog-tied, and put somewhere out of their way until the mission is over.”

“We’re gonna be at odds over this, Jasper.”

“Are we?”

“Yeah, we are.” Hardening his own voice to match the sadist’s, Grit steeled himself for an inevitable battle. “Tabitha’s mine. There’s no fucking way I’m letting anyone shoot her up with goddamn sedatives and ship her back to Phoenix to be locked up for the rest of her life. She belongs here with me, and this is where she’s staying.”

“We’ve had this argument before.”

“We have, and my stance hasn’t changed. Punishing her for being exactly what she was bred, beaten, and brutalized to be is more backwards than a redneck trying to ride a dead gator across the river.”

Jasper snorted. “So what would you have me do, Grit? Let her run riot with guns and knives and a fucking garrote wire through Denver? Do you really want her to stain her hands with more blood than they already are?”

“She’s focused on the hunt; she won’t harm anyone else but Donaghue and his cronies. I believe that.” Grit ground his teeth together. “Blood is the driving force behind everything she does. We both know it, even if we don’t fully understand it. It’s all about the blood in her veins, how it came to be, how it’s been spilled over the years. It comes down to the blood of others, the way it fires a sick thirst in predators. When she sheds blood, Jasper, she’s not the fucking bad guy in the scenario. She’s the guardian.”

---