Page 45 of Still Burning

It wasn’t raining at the moment, but the cold, damp air warned that it would return soon. My heels sank into the moist ground as I waited on Brady to climb out of the hole.

He grinned brightly at Emmett. “Not the best ending to the evening.”

Lore smirked at him.

“Let’s go then,” Brady said, swinging his gaze to me.

“How far are we walking? These shoes aren’t ideal for a wet, soppy ground,” I complained.

“Aye,” he said, frowning down at them. “Not far, but I can carry ye.”

He took a step toward me, and I almost fell on my butt, trying to back away from him.

“Don’t even think about it,” I warned him. “I’ll take them off if I have to.”

He shrugged. “Suit yerself then.”

Both men began walking, and I managed to walk on my tiptoes enough to keep my heels from being sucked into the ground. Brady glanced back to make sure I was following several times while he talked in hushed whispers to Emmett. Thankfully, he had told the truth about it not being a long walk. A basic black sedan—nothing elaborate or flashy about it and definitely not a luxury line—sat on a deserted road that appeared to be wide enough for only one vehicle.

Emmett reached it first and opened the back door. Brady waved for me to get in first, and once I did, the door closed behind me. I watched as Brady walked over to the driver’s side, and Emmett climbed into the passenger seat. That was different.

When both men were in the car, Brady started it up and then glanced over at Emmett. “Who am I?”

I frowned. What kind of question was that?

“Edmund Harris. Age thirty-two, shopping for homes with yer fiancée. Yer from a, uh, Fultondale, Alabama.” Emmett shrugged. “I think I said it right. But yer fiancée has a sick grandfather who she wants to move close to. Yer a software engineer. Yer fiancée’s name is Annabeth Jones, and she was a fifth-grade math teacher, but ye decided it’s time for her to stay home and have a baby.”

Brady looked back at me and grinned. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said with a Southern drawl so authentic that I gaped at him. “I’d have rather been from Tennessee. I like that accent better. It’s a hella lot more fun, but Bama will do. Can I get a Roll Tide?”

What. The. Fuck?!

17

Tex

The call to meet with Marlana Newbury at Pepper’s bar came before sunrise, but I hadn’t been asleep.

I rarely slept. The sheets that I refused to have changed no longer held her scent. It was the only way I could lie in that bed without her there. Knowing I could smell her. Now that it was gone, I couldn’t stand to get in it. I’d slept on the sofa during the little bit of rest I had managed for the past five nights.

There hadn’t been a word on any lead since Wilder Jones had contacted Liam to tell him he thought he might have something, but he needed some time. That had been over a week ago.

My days had become one endless nightmare that I couldn’t wake up from. The nights I did fall asleep for a short time, I’d open my eyes to the realization all over again.

Salem was gone.

I battled with the fear to hope as I rode my Harley to Pepper’s bar. I didn’t think I could handle another lead that got us nowhere. Wilder not calling with anything wasn’t a good sign that what he’d thought he had was going to help.

Liam’s bike was parked outside the bar when I pulled up. He’d been in Ocala, so I hadn’t been expecting him. When he called I thought he was still in Ocala. Climbing off mine, I headed inside. I’d wanted to come the moment I got the call, not in two hours, like I’d been told. Waiting had been difficult, and I’d paced in myroom for more than an hour.

Pushing open the door, I stepped into the bar, and my gaze swung to the bar. Liam leaned against it, his arms crossed over his chest. I started to ask where Marlana was when my eyes shifted, and my steps faltered at the sight of Blaise Hughes. The Mafia boss was not who I’d expected to see here.

I looked back at Liam.

“Marlana won’t be here for thirty more minutes,” Liam told me. “Before she arrives, I wanted you to hear what Blaise has found out through his sources.”

I didn’t ask what sources. “Okay,” I said and turned my attention back to Blaise as he stood up from the table he’d been sitting at.

“I can’t promise you this is all completely accurate. The connections I had to go through were questionable,” he began.

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