Page 19 of Ruthless Intent

It takes me less than a minute to figure out that the girl in front of me is the same one who stood on the stand all those years ago, looked me dead in the eye, and declared to everyone in the courtroom that she saw me kill her brother.

When I speak and she finally turns to face me, her appearance shocks me. Long dark hair, blue eyes flashing with anger, she is both beautiful and a painful reminder of my best friend. But the second she opens her mouth, it’s not hard to reconcile the woman spitting venom at me with the teenager who ruined my life.

“There’s nothing you can say to me to make me feel worse than losing my brother did.”

“You say that now, but you’ll find out how wrong you are soon enough.” Her presence unsettles me, and I throw out the threat as a distraction.

Her chin tilts, blue eyes narrowing, then a mocking smile twists her lips.

“Are you threatening me? So soon after being released, as well. That’s not going to look good, is it?”

“To who?” I arch an eyebrow, and make a show of looking around. Mentally, I go through the steps of warding off the panic attack I am sure is coming. The last thing I need is her witnessing that. “I don’t think the dead are going to care all that much.”

The color drains from her cheeks, but she stands her ground, glaring up at me, fingers clenched into fists either side of her body.

“If you don’t leave, I’m going to call the police.” She takes out her cell.

“Go ahead.” My heart is racing. The last thing I want is any kind of interaction with the police, but I refuse to let her see how her words affect me. “I’m pretty sure that coming to the cemetery to pay respects to my best friend because I couldn’t be there at his funeral hasn’t become illegal in the past fourteen years.”

I’ve often wondered what my first reaction to seeing her would be. Night after night, I’d lie on my bed and imagine the meeting in my head. The problem is that in all those imaginings, she was always the thirteen-year-old girl, with vague features. I barely knew the kid, and couldn’t have picked her out of a line-up back then.

Why is that a problem?

Because my plans haven’t taken into account the fact that the scrawny little teenager who sealed my fate has grown up and turned into a harpy, with sharp claws and a vicious tongue.

I didn’t consider how seeing her would affect me.

I needed this meeting to be on my terms, under circumstances I could control. This is not how it’s supposed to play out.

Maybe this is a good thing. I’d planned to get revenge on a scared little mouse, but the woman in front of me is full of fire and brimstone.

For the first time in years I feel something beyond the anger and hatred. Anticipation licks through me. I need to change my plan … and I know exactly how to do it.

“Jason hated you, you know.” I adopt a conversational tone, and take a step forward.

She moves back, putting his headstone between us. I push my hands into the pockets of my pants, and study her. She can’t see my eyes behind the glasses, but I’m sure it’s obvious what I’m doing. There’s a wall behind the grave, and trees. The closer I can get her to move to them, the less people will see us.

And I really don’t want anyone to overhear what I’m going to say.

“How does it feel knowing not only are you responsible for taking away fourteen years of my life, you’re also the reason Jason’s parents broke up?” My voice is soft, pleasant even, and I think it takes a minute for my words to register.

When they do, her brow pleats. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bryan Trumont left his wife when he found out his mistress was pregnant. Your mother made him choose. Admit to his affair, and move in with her and their daughter, or she would tell his wife, and he would lose everything.”

“You’re lying.”

“Am I?”

“My parents were together for two years before I was born.”

“They were, you’re right. While he was still married to Jason’s mom.”

She snorts. “Is this your idea of causing trouble for me?”

“Jason resented you, hated you sometimes.”

She flinches.

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