Page 83 of Every Single Vow
“Cooper. You need to see this,” Ryder says, his voice hoarse.
I’m still staring at my hand. At the blood coating my fingertips.
“Coop.”
I glance up before pushing to my feet.
“What is it?”
He turns, heading to the hallway, then stops at the bathroom door.
I mentally prepare myself, my lungs working double as I join him near the frame.
A sharp breath hits me. “Fuck.”
“Yeah.” Ryder pulls out his phone. “I’m calling Jefferson.”
Dean Vickerson’s body lies in the tub. A gunshot wound to his head.
Falling back against the wall, I try to process. To figure out what piece Dean is in the puzzle. But only one thing matters right now.
He hurt my wife.Again.And this time, he’s getting more than a prison sentence to pay for his sins.
Chapter fifty-five
Dakota
My scream echoes through the trailer when a bullet hits Dean in the middle of the forehead.
Billy barely gives him a glance before he tucks the gun back in his jeans and looks around like he’s in some nostalgic state.
“Idiot,” he mutters.
“What the hell, Billy?” I shriek. “What’s wrong with you?”
He waves a hand dismissively. “I didn’t need him anymore.”
He takes him by the ankles, dragging him down the hall and to the bathroom.
“Anymore?” I question, my stomach churning at the fact that I’ve been around him all of thirty seconds and he’s already committed first degree murder.
Billy strides back down the hallway, then to the old fridge, checking inside with a grunt before he turns his soulless eyes back to me. “You think I left without eyes on you? That I’d just let the little bitch that put me inside get away with it?”
“You had him watching me?”
“Yeah. Had him toy with you a little too.” He laughs. “I’ll admit it. I didn’t think he had it in him to run you off the road.”
My stomach sinks. It was Dean?
“I couldn’t risk the law seeing me. He owed me.”
I shake my head. “He was practically a kid when you went to jail.”
“A kid with connections. Needed someone to keep up my part in the trade while I was inside.”
I shift, still working the rope on my hands.
“Trade?”
