Page 65 of Shattered Dreams

“I’m on it. He’ll speak to me,” I say, inserting myself into their conversation.

“Gage.” Stella’s voice sounds far away.

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.”

The line goes dead.

“That was abrupt,” I say, blinking in surprise.

Zane shakes his head, a small smile on his lips. “She’ll meet us at the airport.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I know her. Because she said I never have to go through anything alone. Because she loves Zarah. I can’t stop her from wading into the shit. All I can do is try to protect her the best I can while she does.”

“Are you okay flying?”

“I’ll do what I need to do. My sister doesn’t deserve anything less. It will help to have Stella there. It’s why I won’t call her back and tell her to stay at the hotel. I’m so fucking weak.”

“Everyone has phobias.”

He scoffs. “What are you afraid of?”

“Guns. I don’t carry even though I have a license. I know how to shoot, go to the range twice a year, but I’ve been shot, and the way Max died...no, guns aren’t my favorite thing.”

“I hear you.”

The traffic’s light this time of evening, and during the rest of the drive to the airport, while Zane bites the inside of his cheek, I wonder how in the hell we’re going to get past security at the prison after visiting hours.

Zane parks near the private airstrip, and a sleek white jet is already in position on the tarmac, the stairway in place, a thin man wearing a pilot’s uniform expectantly watching for us.

As he predicted, Stella’s here and Douglas is helping her climb out of the back of a black town car. She’s carrying two large overnight bags, and she looks ready to go to war wearing boots, jeans, and a black puffer jacket, her hair pulled up into a high ponytail.

“Told you,” Zane says unnecessarily, and all I can do is appreciate the kind of woman he has on his side.

He kills the engine and wearily climbs out of the SUV, shaking and sweating like he’s come down with a bad case of the flu. He needs more than Stella to board that plane—he needs a Xanax and a bottle of booze. Maybe Stella has some magic in one of the bags she brought with her.

Seven years and he hasn’t flown one time since Black murdered his parents.

She meets him halfway, and he scoops her up and buries his face in the curve of her neck. They cling to each other, and everyone on the tarmac looks away except me. I crave Zarah like a desperate druggie needs his next hit, and I swear to God if Jerricka hurts her, Ingrid’s death will look downright peaceful compared to what I’ll do to her.

I greet Stella, clearing my throat in order to speak clearly. “Hey.”

She leans into her husband but turns toward me. “Hey. I asked Linc to drop off a change of clothes. I don’t know how long we’ll be gone.” She hands me a bag that close up, I now recognize as mine. “He wasn’t too happy we cut him out of the loop, but he’s going out to the house to try to do as much digging online as he can and to keep an eye on Lucille.” She drops to her haunches. “Hey, sweet girl,” she says to Baby, letting her lick her cheek. “Glad you’re here, too.”

“You think of everything.”

She grimaces. “Not everything. I never thought Jerricka would convince Zarah to go with her. I don’t like it, and I wish Zarah would have said no.”

“Jerricka’s a manipulative psychopath and knows just what to say. She knew exactly how to push my buttons, and I have no doubt she’s been working on Zarah since Zarah started seeing her.” I pause. “I’m going to call Pop. I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t take too long, we need to get up in the air.” Zane swallows.

“Yeah.”

I step away and pull my phone out of my pocket. It’s almost dead, and I bet Pop didn’t think to pack my charger.

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