Page 17 of Lone Star Target

Both Kit and Jace followed him in there, and Jace was glad Brandon didn’t go anywhere near the single window in the room. Instead, he went to the nightstand and came back with a clear plastic bag containing the three phones.

“The screens aren’t locked on any of them,” Brandon explained, handing over the bag to Jace.

Jace hadn’t even managed to open the bag when someone knocked at the door. Correction, someone banged on it. And not just once either. Someone was pounding on the door with their fists.

“Wait here,” Jace told Kit and Brandon. He handed the bag to Kit, and she tucked it underneath her jacket. With his gun still drawn, he went back into the living room to peer out the window.

He cursed.

Not the ski-masked-wearing shooter.

But rather two men in suits. Expensive ones. And Jace instantly recognized them both.

Ramsey and Trevor.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Ramsey snarled the moment he saw Jace through the glass.

Jace didn’t answer. Instead, he checked to see if either man was holding a gun. They weren’t. But that didn’t mean they weren’t carrying.

“Why are you here?” Jace demanded.

Trevor started to answer, but Ramsey moved in front of him. “To see my grandson. Now, open this damn door.”

Jace didn’t, but he wanted to do more cursing when he heard the footsteps behind him and realized that Brandon was rushing into the living room. Kit was trying to hold him back, but she was no physical match for her nephew, who outsized her by a good fifty pounds.

“I want to talk to him,” Brandon insisted.

Yeah, so did Jace, but he wasn’t sure it was safe. That’s why he moved in front of Brandon, and he was a physical match for the younger man. Jace got Brandon behind him before he opened the door.

Ramsey attempted to barge his way in, but Jace stopped that, too. Oh, that lit an angry fire in the man’s eyes that narrowed to slits. If looks could have killed, Ramsey would have sent Jace straight to hell.

Jace aimed the same look right back at this rich asshole.

The anger came, rolling through Jace and dragging up old memories. The old mixed with new. With what Kit had told him on the drive over. That this asshole had bullied his nineteen-year-old daughter.

And by doing so, had changed the course of Jace’s life.

Kit’s too.

Jace didn’t get into a mental what might have been. He just focused on the two men who were glaring daggers at him.

Both father and son had, of course, changed physically over the years, but Jace was betting they’d each put some money into some cosmetic tweaks to smooth out the worst of the wrinkles and keep the gray out of their hair that was nearly an identical auburn color as Kit’s. The pair had obviously put in some time with a trainer as well since they both looked strong and fit. In fact, they looked more like former military than rich guys who worked behind desks.

“Why are you here?” Jace repeated. “And trust me, it’s a question those cops will be asking you.”

“And I want to know the answer,” Brandon spoke up. He stepped to Jace’s left side. Kit stepped to his right. Moves that earned them some glares, too, from Ramsey and Trevor.

Ramsey’s jaw turned to iron. “Your dad’s assistant texted us and said you were upset, that you ran out of his office when you went there to get your birth certificate for some college paperwork.”

“I was upset,” Brandon verified.

Jace waited for the young man to mention the phones. Surprisingly, and thankfully, he didn’t.

“Just being around my dad’s stuff reminded me of how little I have in common with him,” Brandon said, “and I wanted to grab the birth certificate and get out of there as fast.”

That wasn’t the smoothest of lies, but neither Trevor nor Ramsey outwardly questioned it.

“I intended to be there to personally give you the birth certificate since I didn’t want you to have to look for it,” Trevor said, “but I was home resting. You heard that someone tried to poison me.”

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