Page 17 of Shattered Fate

“Thanks for the ride,” Zarah says, and she hurries inside the front door.

Baby whines.

“You’ll see her again,” I say, then stop. That sounded way too fucking presumptuous, and knowing it, Zane lifts an eyebrow.

“Second time you’ve bumped into my sister this week,” he says, leaning against the porch rail.

Zane’s maybe five years younger than me, but he looks ten years older, strain and stress lining his lean face. He’s got more money than I would ever see living a hundred lifetimes, but I don’t think I’d trade places with him. He carries a lot of guilt, and no amount of money can erase it. When he looks at Zarah, what does he think? What does he feel? Everyone knows he was the whole fucking reason she was locked up in Quiet Meadows. Everyone knows—the tabloids never quit until they did—that on a silver fucking platter he handed power of attorney to Ashton Black, her supposed fiancé, because he was too heartbroken over Stella’s alleged betrayal to pull his head out of his ass and look around at what was going on.

Though, I guess if I believed the love of my life left me for another man, I wouldn’t feel very good, either. On top of losing my parents. I can’t imagine living without Pop. Besides Baby, he’s my best friend.

Yeah, I guess I can give the guy a break. A small one.

I don’t say anything, just pass him the note Max left me I still carry everywhere.

Zane doesn’t say anything, either, only pulls the paper from my fingers and reads it, the thin sheet fluttering in the chilly breeze.

It’s quiet out here. We’re far enough off the highway I don’t hear traffic rumbling past. Only the clattering of the bare branches, the birds. There’s a hint of woodsmoke in the air, and I don’t know if it’s coming from the house or a property nearby. The sky is a pristine blue, and the sun’s bright. Snow’s holding off for now, but if we don’t get some in the next few weeks, we might be celebrating Christmas without any. It’s not unheard of in Minnesota, but rare.

Baby inches away from me to sniff at the steps and Zane’s shoes. She has to make friends with everyone and headbutts his leg. I expect him to rebuff her, but he sits on the porch and digs his hand into her fur.

I don’t know why I’m expecting the worst out of everyone. So far, all Zarah and Zane have shown me is the severe loss they felt when Max passed away and an easy acceptance of me even though I was a dick.

Zane folds the letter and holds it out to me. “Has Zarah seen this?”

“No.” I hadn’t thought about showing it to her, and I feel like an asshole. Of course she would want to see how much she meant to him, right up until his last breath, spelled out, literally, in black and white. Well, blue and white, but now isn’t the time to be glib.

“Might help her a little.”

“Yeah,” I say, but I don’t give it back and shove it into my pocket. It’s the last thing I have of my brother’s—excluding all his things I have yet to go through in his apartment—and I don’t want to lose it. If I gave it to Zarah, she’d want to keep it. “She miss him?” It’s a stupid question, I know, but why not ram more splinters under my fingernails.

Zane sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “Stretch your legs?”

“Sure.”

He heaves himself off the step and jerks his head for me to follow him. “She won’t run away?”

“Nah. Baby’s trained. She helps me on jobs.”

Zane leads me away from the house. It’s impossible to know who’s home. A six-stall garage sits off to the side, but the only vehicle visible on the property is mine. Zarah’s driver is nowhere I can see. I’d like to meet Stella. There’s been so much said about her bravery and courage and her role in bringing down Black Enterprises. I’d like to meet a woman who has her pluck. I bet she doesn’t tolerate any shit. I bet she’d be a good PI.

The house is a good hundred feet behind us when he speaks. “Zarah’s on a lot of drugs. Still. And to answer your question, she misses Max. He was one of the first people to reach her besides Stella and Lucille, our housekeeper. He was patient. Her mind couldn’t cut through the chemical haze and he’d talk her through simple things. We’re weaning her off as aggressively as her body will allow and she’s better in a lot of ways, but until she’s completely free, we won’t know how much of the damage is permanent. And that’s only the drugs. The mind has its own way of dealing with trauma. Memory loss, PTSD. She might always have anxiety.”

The lines on his face deepen. There’s no doubt he claims responsibility for Zarah’s state.

“What do you think of Max’s note?” I ask.

He pauses and watches Baby nose around the yard. “At this point, I believe his fears are unwarranted. Ash and Clayton are in prison. So are the men who paid Ash for the privilege to abuse her. Quiet Meadows is shut down.” He frowns. “I’m not sure what Max was referring to when he said they weren’t done with her. If he found something while he was digging around, he didn’t share it with me. The FBI and the DA’s office have been all over the Blacks’ shit like flies on roadkill. I can’t imagine there’s anything left.”

That’s what I was thinking, too, but I feel just the smallest hint of disappointment. Zane’s essentially telling me I don’t need to watch out for Zarah at Max’s request, and if there’s no reason to watch out for her, there’s no reason to see her. That hits me just a little harder than it should. We’re talking about her being in love with my brother, something she probably still is. I’m not interested in being her rebound guy.

We wander farther from the house, Baby sniffing at the grass like a druggie snorting a mountain of cocaine. She must smell the other dogs. Then again, living in the city, she doesn’t have a chance to play in the grass much. I try to bring her to the park whenever I can, but the city has leash laws, and it’s not the same as being out here without restrictions.

Zane doesn’t seem to be in much of a hurry, his hands shoved into the pockets of a leather jacket similar to mine. Maybe we could have been friends, but we don’t have anything in common and his lifestyle isn’t something I can relate to.

“You’re saying I don’t need to keep an eye on her.”

“Do you want to?”

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