Page 89 of Shattered Dreams

“I don’t think—” Jerricka starts and stands from the sofa.

“If Zarah’s not here, then there’s no harm in letting my dog sniff around, is there?” I ask.

She closes her mouth. If she protests, she’ll look like she’s hiding something, but I already know she is.

Baby will find Zarah.

She’s here.

Somewhere.

But Rourke isn’t, and that surprises me. I thought he’d be here too, but maybe he’s waiting until Zarah’s been taking the drugs longer.

Baby sniffs through the living room, whines, and paws at the floor. That’s her tell she recognizes the scent she’s trailing.

Banks, Zane, and I follow her to a door behind a staircase. Baby noses the crack between the door and the doorjamb, cries, and looks at me.

“What’s in here?” Banks asks, his hand on the doorknob. He jiggles it, but it doesn’t move.

“Nothing that concerns you.”

I turn toward Rourke’s voice and swallow. My throat is so raw the saliva feels like fire.

“You wouldn’t give up, would you?” he asks, a small silver handgun pressed to Stella’s temple, his arm tight around her neck, cutting off her air supply.

Zane stands absolutely still, only his hands bunched into fists at his sides betray his fury.

Banks and his partner draw their weapons, but we all know who has the advantage here.

“At what? Giving Zarah her life back?” I ask, tentatively stepping forward.

Baby snarls low. She has never liked Rourke, and in all the years I’ve had to keep them separated, I never understood why. Now I do. She knew his true nature...she sensed the monster hiding in his soul.

“Zarah was a tool, and it was a godsend, Maddox, when you wrote off care to Black. In your own way, you contributed to our cause. You should be proud of the work we’ve accomplished using your sister as our test subject.”

Zane moans, and I squeeze his shoulder. Now isn’t the time to let emotions get in the way. Stella could die. Rourke is as heartless as Ashton Black, and I have no doubt Rourke wouldn’t hesitate to blow Stella’s brains all over Jerricka’s living room.

“What are you trying to do?” I ask.

“I think that’s evident now. We’re developing a drug that mimics Alzheimer’s. It will be revolutionary. Think of what a drug like that could do—incapacitate world leaders, dispose of troublesome family members. When Maddox shut down Quiet Meadows, the trials were almost complete. We were forced to go underground and wait out the storm.”

“Dr. Stephen Mallory was helping you.”

“He was, until he decided falling in love with your mother was more important than our cause. Revenge is better served cold, but you ruined that, didn’t you?”

“You were the one who planted Mallory’s watch at Ingrid’s homicide.”

“I can’t trust the King’s Crossing’s police department to do anything right. If Black still had most of those swine in his pocket, I wouldn’t have had to worry about planting evidence and hoping for an arrest.”

“But why kill Ingrid?”

“Because I felt like it. Because she was greedy. I thought she cared about her patient, but she was willing to turn on her for a dime. I don’t care for people like that. Have some fucking loyalty for Christ’s sake,” he says, disgust heavy in his voice.

He presses the muzzle of his gun to Stella’s temple a little harder, and she flinches. She’s not crying, only watching, listening to the explanation he’s giving us. Cool under pressure, but that’s just one more thing she can add to the list of what Ashton Black taught her.

“And Max?” I ask.

“The last thing I needed was my son marrying the woman I paid to fuck. It would have been embarrassing, and we couldn’t have continued the trials. Max was like a pit bull—he never would have given up. He never would have left it alone. Max would have uncovered the whole sordid mess.”

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