Page 81 of Quiet Protector
I learned that the hard way.
It takes Regan a few seconds to answer, but when she does, I’m confident Isaac gave me the wrong number. “Hello.” She only speaks one word, but her tone is so brittle, I’m confident she’s on the verge of crying. That’s not like Regan at all. Not in the slightest.
“Regan?” The unease in my voice is understandable. I feel like I’m about to be snagged in a trap. When awhooshsounds down the line, I take that as confirmation I have the right person. “Is Alex with you?”
“No, he’s in his apartment…” I hear her forcefully swallow before she mutters, “… with Kristin.” The brutal slam of my car door drowns out what she says next.
After pressing the start button on the dashboard, I pull my seat belt across my torso. “He’s with Kristin?”
The whoosh from earlier returns. “I think?”
“You think or you know?” I don’t mean to snap at her, but I’ve had enough assumptions the past few weeks to last me a lifetime. It’s time for me to start working off facts.
As I throw my gearshift into reverse, then tear out of my parking bay, Regan replies, “I don’t know. He cuffed me in his car.” When I curse under my breath, her panic doubles. “Why does it bother you if he’s with Kristin?”
“Because he didn’t let me finish.” I push my car to its absolute limit. I’m not going to lie, I need the hit of adrenaline that comes from a sting. I’ve missed it more than I realized the past year and a half. “Kristin didn’t just organize the hit on Dane, she killed him, Regan. She was brought in for questioning this afternoon.”
“Is she still under arrest?”
Air leaves my lungs in a hurry when I shake my head. “No. She was released two hours ago.”
When I hear Regan throw open a car door, I shout, “Authorities are on their way,” before giving my car the thrashing of its life.
I race through the streets of Ravenshoe feeling more alive than I have the past year. Only one moment in time has trumped it. When I kissed a trail from Melody’s neck to the waistband of her panties. The taste of her skin on my tongue should have been enough. I should have appreciated what I had.
Instead, I fucked it up.
Ialwaysfuck it up.
As I skid to a stop next to Alex’s old sedan, I shake my head, ridding it of the negativity bombarding it. My already brisk strides double when the ricochet of a gun being fired bellows down the stairwell I’m climbing. It’s a quickpop, pop, popnoise that’s closely followed by a fourthbang. The final shot appears to be a higher caliber than its predecessor.
With the firing of multiple guns waking them from their sleep, several agents leave the safety of their apartments. Mercifully, none of them mistake me as the intruder. I may not be a part of their team anymore, but they know I’m not a baddie.
“FBI agents. Put down your weapon,” I shout before pushing open Alex’s partially cracked open door and storming into his living room.
The scene is one I’ve entered many times before, but for once, the good guys won. Two small blonde girls are clutching Regan’s thighs. Alex has been shot in the shoulder but appears stable, and Kristin is lying lifeless on the floor with three bullet wounds to her torso and one to her head.
I should be pleased by the outcome, it could have ended much worse, but for some reason, I can’t find joy in it. I guess my mom’s old saying is true:
Every thought is a battle
Every breath is a war
But once you give up
You can’t win anymore.
35
Brandon
“Did you catch up on any sleep today? You look like shit.”
I roll my eyes at Phillipa before accepting the towel she’s holding out for me. I’m in the bathroom in my apartment, and she has no respect for privacy.
While wrapping the towel around my waist and grabbing another from under the vanity to dry my shaggy hair, I ask, “Did Kristin pull through?”
Phillipa waits for me to get myself into some sort of order before she shakes her head, acting ignorant to the liquor she smells leeching from my pores. “Her daughters will stay with Alex until their next of kin arrive.”
