I shake my head without pause for thought. I knew Dane. He was the goofball who rarely followed the rules, but he’d never bend them so much they’d risk snapping. Kristin, on the other hand. . . she doesn’t back down when she wants something. Just the number of women she took down to secure Dane’s attention assures I can’t mistake this.
“The month before our raid at Substanz, Dane and I had just entered our second year at the Bureau, meaning our life insurance went from a pittance to an amount that would keep our families well taken care of in the event of our deaths.” My pulse spikes as horrid thoughts bombard me. “The sniper had plenty of opportunity to take me down, but he didn’t.” I lick my dry lips, hoping it will ease out my next set of words. “Because he wouldn’t take me down if I wasn’t his target.”
Regan’s pupils widen when she deciphers my cryptic reply. “Greed makes people horrible human beings, but this. . . Jesus, Alex. Do you truly think Kristin is capable of this?”
I want to shake my head, but my gut is warning me to remain cautious, to pay careful attention to everything and everyone around me. I thought that was because Isaac’s attorney is sitting across from me. Now I’m not so sure.
I raise my eyes to Regan. “Who gave you the printout?”
Her brows pinch when she answers, “Brandon.”
“You’ve had contact with Brandon?” Anger minces up my words. I told him to stay away from her. He’ll pay for his stupidity with more than his job this time around.
Regan nods, shakes her head, then nods again. “Not really. I noticed someone had hacked my laptop—again. . .”She gives me a suspicious look before finalizing her statement, “. . . soI set up a ruse. It led me to Brandon.”
I growl; it’s a warning rumble that advises we’re going to have a very in-depth talk about her personal security the instant we’ve finished swimming through the shit surrounding us.
Regan’s throat works hard to swallow before she nods. Confident she’s accepted my silent raincheck, I dial Brandon’s number. He’s hesitant to answer. I don’t know if the early hour is to blame or the fact our calls always end with me screaming threats at him. My ego wants to say it is the latter, but just like the number of cautions my gut has given me tonight, it’s warning me not to be cocky.
Just when I think Brandon will never answer my call, he does. I fire straight into an interrogation, most likely making him wish he didn’t answer. “How did you hack into Dane’s bank accounts? He didn’t leave his shit open for anyone to see. He was pedantic about security.”
Brandon inhales a sharp breath. “Good morning to you too, Alex.”
He thinks he’s smart. It’s a pity he failed to notice he’s already met his maker.
Regan’s eyes snap to mine when I say, “You hacked in like you did Regan’s laptop, didn’t you? Hung around until you got what you needed?”
“No! I had a search warrant for averyvalid reason—”
“Dane wasn’t rogue!” I snarl, cutting him off.
I hear Brandon suck in several breaths before he murmurs, “I never said he was.”
He only says one sentence, but it is the way he expresses it that reveals so much more.
“The warrant was for Kristin?” Surprise echoes in my tone. . .oris it confirmation?I honestly don’t know. I know Kristin. She was with Dane for nearly a decade before he passed, but how well do you truly know someone you’re not sleeping with? Something was obviously going on in Dane’s life before he killed himself, but I’ve yet to discover what it was. Could it be this?
Brandon’s deep exhalation answers my question on his behalf.
I harden my stomach before demanding, “Tell me everything you know, Brandon.”
“I don’t know anything—”
“Tell me everything you fucking know, Brandon!” I scream at the top of my lungs, my anger fraying as suspicion runs rife through my veins. “Or I’ll make sure every agency from New York to Burbank knows the real reason you go by an alias.”
Brandon remains quiet as he authenticates my threat. He shouldn’t second guess me. Just because my computer knowledge isn’t as extensive as his doesn’t mean I can’t find a wolf hiding in sheep’s clothing.
Although I am as quiet as Brandon, he must hear something in my quivering breaths, as he sings like a canary two seconds later. “Kristin made a $30,000 payment to Gabriele Francesco two weeks before the FBI’s raid on Substanz. It was refunded in full the day following Dane’s accident.”
My heart sinks into my stomach. “Because the hitman didn’t get his mark.”
When Brandon makes an agreeing murmur with his lips, I lose my shit. I pound my cell phone into my steering wheel before replacing the crumbled glass and metal with my fists. For years, Kristin watched guilt eat me alive over Dane’s injury, but not once did she attempt to ease my pain—because she was too busy squeezing me of every drop of remorse before her draining efforts moved to my bank account.
That fucking bitch!
After a few big breaths to calm myself, I lean over and latch Regan’s seatbelt before securing my own. She peers at me, shocked that even during my darkest hour, she still comes first. She shouldn’t be shocked. She’ll always come first. I just hope I still have the opportunity after wringing Kristin’s neck.
With Ravenshoe residents relishing the holiday season, traffic is light, meaning I make it to my apartment in under four minutes. The trip usually takes me ten. Regan didn’t speak the whole time. Well, I’m assuming that’s the case. I’m so deeply burrowed in a dark, dangerous hole, I don’t hear anything but the last words Dane spoke to me. He was distant and withdrawn the last two times we spoke, but his tone was always high with suspicion. I thought that centered around Regan’s stalker case, but maybe it wasn’t that. Perhaps he was suspicious of Kristin? He lived with her 24/7, so he’d know her better than anyone.
