Page 142 of Not A Whisper

Grant says nothing. His body is rigid and the tension around him is nearly palpable. What is he thinking? He hasn’t shot the idea down like Jason. Yet he’s clearly not as sure as Trip. Can he kill his own father? Grant certainly has every reason to want to see him dead. Murder though? No, there hasto be a better way to get back at Garry. We need to see him locked up behind bars for good. Rich and powerful Garry Gipson might be, but even kings can fall.

“Grant,” Trip pushes.

Grant takes a deep breath and opens his mouth. I’m not sure which way Grant was going to go but I don’t give him the chance to make the wrong call.

“I-I-I have-e-e an idea-a-a.” I stifle a groan as I sit up. Every muscle in my body is tense, as if trapped in one large cramp. Grant’s arm loosens but he doesn’t let go of me. “L-l-l-et-t-t me t-t-alk to him.”

Grant is already shaking his head before I can get the words out.

“Dollie, you’re scarily blue. You’re leaving, that’s not up for debate,” Jason objects. “We just need to decide?—”

My brows slam together. If they really think I’m going to leave them here to face Garry to do only god knows what, they are sorely mistaken. Garry will be furious to find that not only am I not here, but that his son has thwarted his plansagain. After what he tried tonight, who knows what he’ll do in response?

“No.” The word comes out firm and without a stutter. “I’m stay-ying and we’re doing-g it-t my way-y-y.”

I glare at Grant then at Jason, then shoot one at Trip who lets out a frustrated chuckle.

“Ah fuck it,” he mutters, straightening. “Dollface wants to stay, then she stays, guys.”

Jason’s shoulders stiffen and that dark, twisted side of his emerges, replacing the expression of concern. His eyes flash in the dim overhead light of the car. A tight smile pulls at the corners of his mouth.

“Your fingers and toes are almost black, you’re cut up all over, and possibly going into shock. If we do this, let you stayhere, you’re putting yourself in danger, more so than you already are. Didn’t you and I have a conversation that went over how I felt about this?” he asks, his voice strangely pleasant.

My stomach twists with apprehension. We did, and it ended with Jason edging me until I was a raw bundle of nerves. But my resolve to stay and stick this out with my guys is stronger than my fear of any repercussions from Jason.

“J-Jason, I’m staying.”

His smile grows as his eyes darken. “If that’s what you want, dollie.”

Ignoring the knot in my stomach, I turn to Grant. His eyes are pinned to my face, his expression hard yet unreasonable. “T-t-rust me. I-I know what I’m-m doing.”

His jaw ticks and his brows slam together. “Fine, but we’re not sticking around for long. We need to get you checked out. Until he gets here, you’re staying in the car where it’s warm.”

“F-f-fine”

Thirty-Five

I’m sitting on top of a rickety worktable inside the shed by the time headlights from Garry’s car light up the dark space.

By the entrance, Lance stands with his arms crossed and his legs spread apart, looking more like a bodyguard than he has any right appearing. It’s his sweatpants and sweatshirt I wear now. Even layered over top of Jason’s button up, I’m still freezing. My fingertips and toes still have no sensation even after roasting them over the vents in the car. Maybe Jason was right, sticking around is putting me in even more danger.

I suppress a hard shiver.

My hands, tucked into the front pocket of the hoodie, clench as my nerves and anger increase with every passing second. A car engine turns off. It’s followed by the sound of a door opening and closing. There’s a pause where everything goes utterly silent. Is Garry taking in the sight out front? With Woody’s blood on the ground, the clear signs of a struggle… What does he think of all that?

Before his arrival, Trip had moved his bike out of sight andthe guys had made quick work of shuffling the snow around to cover up signs that they’d been here. For all Garry knows, Lance, Woody, and I have been the only people here.

Woody… Did Garry stop to see that his lackey was dead before continuing his trek up here? Or did he ignore the car and keep going?

My heart hammers against my ribcage at the sound of approaching footsteps. The crunching of snow and gravel is loud in the silence. Lance’s gaze flickers to me. In the past few minutes, he’s apologized over a hundred times. He’s just recently gone quiet, falling into deep thought. I hope he doesn’t start up again right now. All he has to do is play his part and we can get out of here.

Garry appears in the threshold of the doorway, his silhouette a dark shadow of malevolence. His casual stance with both hands in his pockets as he regards the two of us makes me uneasy. Well, more so than I already am. Who’s this casual walking into what should be a murder scene?

“Garry,” Lance drops his arms and steps forward. “Look man, I’m done here. Woody took off after throwing Bri in the well. Pay him or whatever, he did what he was supposed to do, but I couldn’t leave her down there. All this is just… it’s fucking crazy. I thought we could just talk this out. Whatever is between you two has clearly gone too far. If you want to send me to jail with what you have on me, fine, but I won’t let you get me with murder. I’m not a killer.”

“No,” Garry drawls, pulling his hand out of his pocket. “You’re not.”

Before I can shout a warning, Garry lifts the gun in his hand, and it goes off. Lance’s body jerks back. His gasp of pain fades off as he falls to one knee. The gun goes off again and Lance is thrown onto his back where he goes utterly still.

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