Page 102 of Ruthless Intent

“I still have nightmares about that night.” I don’t know what makes me confess that to her.

“I’m not surprised by that at all.”

She busies herself making tea for us both, then places both cups on the table, along with a pitcher of milk. “Do you take sweetener?”

“Yes, please.”

“What memories came back to you while you were at the house?” She drops the question in such a casual tone that it takes a second for my brain to catch up with what she’s asking.

I give myself a second to prepare my reply by taking a sip of tea. It’s hot, but it distracts me from the way my mind is racing.

Zain isn’t here. She doesn’t know about the contract I’ve signed. She doesn’t know I’m married to her son. I could make my excuses and leave, if I wanted to.

Instead, I set down the cup, and meet her gaze.

“I remember seeing Zain standing over Jason and Louisa. I remember him calling my name.” I give a small shake of my head. “I remember the knife was on the floor near the door, and not in his hand.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

ZAIN

I’m halfway to the police station when I remember that my appointment with the sheriff isn’t for another two hours. I take a sharp left, ignoring the horns blaring at me, and drive to the edge of town … and the cemetery.

It’s quiet, peaceful even, and there are barely any people around as I make my way over to Jason’s grave. The flowers Ashley left are still there, and I don’t know why I’m surprised by that.

Actually, that’s not true.

It’s because it feels like a lifetime ago, not just a few days.

I sit on the grass beside the gravestone.

“Hey, man.”

I tip my head sideways and rest it against the cold marble.

“My mom told me I need to slow down. How am I supposed to do that? There’s so much I need to do, and I’ve waited too long as it is.”

I close my eyes and let out a long breath.

“And when I slow down, I start thinking about how much the world has changed. And … I don’t know if I can deal with it right now. So I’m focusing on the one thing I can deal with.”

The irony isn’t lost on me that I’m talking about his sister.

“Am I fucking up, Jace? You understand what I’m doing, right?”

In my mind's eye, I build up the image of him. Taller than me, blue eyes, hair a shade lighter than mine, and shorter—shaved at the sides.

In my imagination, he comes toward me, his lopsided smile so similar to Ashley’s that it twists a knife in my gut everytime I see it on her lips. Not that she smiles much around me. Thank fuck.

He doesn’t speak, just comes to a stop in front of me and looks down at where I sit. His eyes are serious, and his smile fades.

“I know.” My sigh is heavy. “She’s your sister, and I’m treating her like shit. You always did refuse to play revenge games, even when it meant you got hurt. But it’s all I’ve got. You know?”

Obviously he doesn’t answer me.

“She had a point though. How did Detective Holson know about Louisa? Could they have found something? I don’t think the autopsy paperwork would have been ready that fast. He must have found something in your room, right?”

That must be the answer, because the only other way he’d know was if Louisa told him. And as far as I knew, they didn’t talk after some kind of falling out between their families years ago.

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