Page 11 of Deceit

"Remember what I said," I say into the phone to Wade. "We're counting down to three, you hear a shot, you take yours."

"Done," he deadpans.

Mills's three fingers turn into two.

"I got the one behind Marty," I recite to Mills.

"Stormi," Marty imparts again with defeat in his tone. I extend my arms, hands positioned over the handle of my gun. "Don't...please, baby."

One finger.

"You'll always be the best thing that ever happened to me."

I cock the hammer back on my Glock through Stormi's words, her goodbye, and yank on the trigger. The sound combines with Mills's as a second shot rings out in the house.

The rustling of bodies fall to the floor.

One, two, three.

Mindlessly, I step around Mills and locate Marty on his knees. Then Stormi, staring down at a body on the hardwood floors.

A black suit runs out of my peripheral as Wade makes his way to Reagan. She's broken down in tears looking at her brother as her husband cups her face lovingly.

My vision blurs with tears as I stride inside the room, my family safe from harm. I can feel Mills behind me, looking for himself to make sure everyone is secure. His arm wraps around me as he pulls me into his body in silent comfort—for the both of us.

"Consider the debt repaid for my ex-wife," Wade vouches to Marty as Reagan jumps from her chair and into his arms.

I groan at another long story that I'll save for a time when I'm not recovering from a mild heart attack.

"Why didn't you just hit him in the shoulder," Marty carps out through my thoughts. "I had plans for that motherfucker."

A relieved chuckle rumbles in my rib cage as I place the side of my forehead on Mills's chest.

"Geezus Christ," he mutters above me. "Why do we like him so much?"

I shake my head. "No freaking idea…but we do."

Twenty Four Years Ago

The door to our double-wide slams against the hutch that Mom keeps all her glass Precious Moments figures on.

Everything rattles.

Something falls to the floor and shatters into pieces.

Mom is going to be upset. She collects them and only lets Hardy, Scarlett, and I look at them. We’re not allowed to touch.

But she won’t be getting mad at Bubba. She never does.

However, I do.

Every time he shows up with his loud Harley skidding against the dirt and rocks, hints that he’s been drinking.

That we’re in trouble.

“Sharlene!” he roars off the moment his boot connects with our floor. “Where ya at?”

Grabbing Scarlett’s hand, I pull her down to her knees and hover my hands over her ears. “We’re gonna play hide and seek again. Bubba is it. He can’t see you, and you can’t hear him. Get under the bed—” I give her a little shove towards the twin she shares with my brother. “—keep your eyes closed.”

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