Page 99 of Reckless
“You need to come home,” I said. “Something happened.”
“I’ll be right there.” No hesitation whatsoever on his end, and I hung up.
How could I tell him over the phone what happened? He and Piper had looked to be pretty close. No, that wasn’t a conversation you had with someone over the phone, but when he got here, I had to keep him out of the kitchen until I told him.
Vaughn returned a few moments later, saying, “My brother is on his way.”
I held back a bitter chuckle, because now was not the time to laugh. It was kind of priceless, though. The fucking Scotts were literally in everyone’s business. “I take it that means you don’t want me to call the police?” My fingers tightened around my phone, and I couldn’t help but glare at the tattooed kid.
“No,” Vaughn said. “I should call Dante, though.” His dark eyes roamed to Jaz, who still stood buried in Archer’s arms. “He’d want to be here for her.” So he made another call.
While he did that, I took to pacing. Eventually I wandered outside, hoping to catch Oliver right as he got out of his car. I didn’t care about the blood on my shirt, didn’t care what I looked like. Oliver would know the very moment he saw me what had happened, though he wouldn’t know who was dead until I told him or he pushed past me to get into the house.
Oliver’s car pulled into the long driveway after a while, and I couldn’t help but hold my breath as he drove up. The minute he got out and saw me covered in blood, the man looked like he wanted to be sick.
“No,” he said, hurrying over to me, leaving his car running. “Please tell me—”
“It’s Piper,” I said. “Bobbi killed her.” So much for me laying it on easy, but I supposed I’d never been one to sugarcoat things.
If my heart wasn’t already broken for Jaz, it would’ve been the moment Oliver listened to what I said. His mouth thinned into a line, his expression falling. I’d hated this man for so long for what his sons had done to me, and yet now, after working for him to try to protect Jaz, after seeing him almost daily, I’d grown to respect him.
Oliver Fitzpatrick was only a man trying to do what he thought was right. He’d tried to do right by his sons, but they were too psychotic to appreciate it. He’d tried to do right with Astrid and her daughter, Celeste, and now they were gone. Same thing with Jaz and her mother—Piper was dead. It was like every single time Oliver had tried to help someone, it ended up exploding and blowing up in his face.
He said nothing, pushing past me to get into the house. Heaving a sigh to myself, I followed him, able to see him freeze when he spotted Piper’s body, able to witness the crestfallen look in his eyes.
“No,” Oliver whispered, glancing to Jaz and Archer. Though it was difficult for him to speak, he managed to say, “Is Jaz all right?” Archer gave him a nod, and he muttered, “Well, at least there’s that.” The man sauntered over to his liquor cabinet and pulled out a glass jar of whiskey, judging from the hue that sloshed around inside. He went into a cabinet, carefully stepping over the bodies on the floor.
I couldn’t believe that man was pouring himself a drink right now, but I supposed now was as good of a time as any.
“I should call Wilde, tell him…” Oliver trailed off, downing everything he’d poured into the glass.
How would you tell a man that his daughter was dead? That she had been the one terrorizing the town? Jaz hadn’t told us the story, but I could put two and two together. My cop days weren’t that far behind me.
“Markus is on his way,” Vaughn spoke, causing Oliver to suddenly realize he was there. “I wouldn’t call anyone else until he gets here.”
Oliver’s only response to that was sagging shoulders—and taking the empty glass and throwing it on the floor, causing everyone to jump a little at the sudden sound of shattering glass. After a moment, he called Frank at the gate and informed him that someone else would be arriving.
No one said anything more, silence overtaking the place.
The next person that showed up wasn’t Markus; it was Dante. Wearing the same leather jacket he always did, he strolled into the house without knocking, as if he belonged here. As if he’d been here before, which he hadn’t.
When he saw Jaz and Archer, when he saw that I was covered in blood, Dante asked, “What the fuck happened here?” To Oliver, who he’d never officially met before, he said, “Hey, my man. I’m Dante.” Such a flippant way to introduce himself, given the circumstances.
And then, fortunately for him, he read the room.
That, or he spotted a body on the floor.
Dante went to inspect, frowning at Bobbi’s corpse before finding Piper’s. “Shit.” He strode to Jaz’s side, pulling her away from Archer’s arms and hugging her to his chest instead. “I’m guessing by all the blood, you took care of that bitch.”
Jaz nodded.
What Dante said next surprised me, mostly because he seemed like the type who never had a care in the world, let alone a sincere bone in his body: “I’m sorry you had to do that.” Was he sorry she had to get her hands dirty or sorry he wasn’t here to kill Bobbi himself?
Or, maybe, he really did care about Jaz. Maybe I wasn’t the only one she affected.
I stared at Vaughn, Archer, and Dante, how they were all here, all of them near Jaz, focusing on her. For the first time since she’d introduced the idea to me, I thought maybe this could work.
“We should get you cleaned up,” Dante said. “Out of those clothes—”
