Page 18 of Ruthless Intent

“Well, that’s something we can both agree on.” The deep voice comes from behind me.

The fine hairs on the back of my neck lift, and my breath catches in my throat. I don’t dare turn around. The voice might be deeper, rougher, but I recognize it immediately. I’ve heard it in my nightmares for years.

I know, with every fiber of my being, who is standing behind me.

Regardless of my earlier thoughts, I’m not ready to face him yet. It’s too soon.

“Nothing to say?” A shadow falls over me, blocking the sun and sending a shiver down my spine.

I sit still, silent, and stare at Jason’s gravestone so hard my vision blurs.

“Funny how quiet you are,” the rough drawl continues. “I remember you had a lot to say last time I saw you. What was it? Let me think.”

The shadow moves to my right, forming into the shape of a man.

“Oh, that’s right. You told a room full of people that I was the worst kind of human. That my soul was drenched in blood, and I should be locked away in the deepest, darkest pit, where I would never feel the sun on my face again. That I was a monster and you wished the death sentence was an option because I didn’t deserve to live.”

The shadow moves again, forward this time, and warps as it spreads over the headstone.

“I have to say that I didn’t expect to find you here. I was told that you moved away from Whitstone years ago. I was going to come and visit you in a couple of days. You know … to catch up.”

His words turn my blood cold. My first instinct was correct after all. He did intend to find me.

“I guess I can cancel that trip, since you’ve saved me the time and expense.”

I bite down on the inside of my cheek to stop myself from speaking.

“Did you think I forgot about you? Or did you think you could come to town without me finding out? Are you staying with your mom, or at a hotel? I have to admit that it was a surprise when she refused to tell my lawyer where you were. The way Jason talked about her, she didn’t seem all that maternal.”

My brother’s name coming out of his mouth strips me of all desire to pretend he isn’t there, and I leap to my feet and whirl around.

“Don’t you ever say his name again.”

And then I make the mistake of looking at him.

Black hair falls in messy strands over his forehead. Dark sunglasses cover his eyes. His lips are set in a hard line, and his jaw is covered in stubble the same color as his hair. The suit he’s wearing looks expensive, which isn’t a surprise. His family is rich. I remember Jason telling me that Zain gained access to a trust fund worth millions when he turned eighteen. I wonder if that money would have still been accessible to him in prison, and whether it made life easy for him inside.

“She speaks.” I can’t interpret the tone of his voice. His hand lifts to push the hair off his forehead, and the movement unlocks a memory.

My throat constricts, and the image of him is superimposed by another. A younger version of him, hands painted red as he raised one, holding a knife, when I first entered my brother’s bedroom.

“No.” The word pushes itself out from between frozen lips. “You have no right to be here.”

“I have more right to be here than you.”

My hair whips around my face with the force of my headshake. “Go to hell.”

“Been there, done that.” He takes a step forward. “But the hell I lived in is nothing compared with the one you’re about to discover.”

CHAPTER TEN

ZAIN

I turn up the collar of my coat, and keep my head down as I walk through the cemetery. It’s not cold, but I’m not ready to face anyone who might recognize me, and I hadn’t even considered I’d get here just as morning service was about to start.

When I reach Jason’s grave, my steps slow. There’s someone here. I stop, keeping a respectful distance away. I have no idea who they are, and I don’t want to intrude.

Her hands move gracefully as she talks, and she keeps tucking the same lock of hair behind her ear every couple of minutes. Her voice is low and soft, and I find myself moving closer to hear what she’s saying.

---