The woman scoops up the cute pooch and hurries in the opposite direction, disappearing into the crowd.
Well. That was intense. Although I have a feeling everything having to do with Mackenzie’s inner circle is more or less intense.
Mackenzie and I make our way around the beach for another schmooze session, and this time I’m actively scanningfor Jasper—or anyone willing to stage a rescue. Surely Mackenzie will want to be rid of me at some point.
Right?
A series of aggressive barks catches our attention from the left side of the cove and I break rank, heading that way.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Mackenzie shouts, hurrying to catch up.
“There’s a dog barking.” I glide into the thick of the night, away from the party, away from the petty tribe of women that have flocked here, and more importantly, away from Mackenzie Woods.
Two out of three isn’t bad. I’ll take what I can get at this point.
The beach grass is tall here, waving in the breeze. The music is muffled behind us, but I can hear the waves and the distant sound of barking getting louder, too.
“Bizzy, what the heck do you think you’re doing? This is no time for a midnight swim. We need to get back to that party,” Mackenzie snaps, grabbing my arm. “Who cares about a silly, barking dog? Dogs bark, Bizzy. That’s what they do. Now let’s?—”
Her foot catches on something, stopping her cold.
She pitches forward with a yelp, her arms windmilling, and goes down hard.
I try to reach for her, but I’m too late.
Mackenzie hits the sand and there’s a loud, wet thud. And no sooner does she face-plant in the sand than she’s scrambling with her arms flailing as she tries to push herself up.
“What the—” She stops and stares down at her hands.
They’re red.Nothing but two dark red slicks.
And suddenly, she’s holding something. A knife with a long blade and a wooden handle.
“Mackenzie—” I gasp at the sight.
But she’s not listening. She’s struggling to stand, twisting to see what she tripped over, and her knee hits something solid, sending it rolling over and we both see it at the very same time.
A body.
Face-up now. Platinum blonde hair matted with sand. Green eyes staring at nothing.
The knife. Mackenzie seemingly pulled the knife from the woman’s back.
Mackenzie tips her head back and belts out a bloodcurdling scream.
The sound rips through the night, raw and panicked, and drives footsteps pounding toward us from every direction.
I can’t move. Can’t breathe. Can’t do anything but stare at the woman in the sand.
Brittany isn’t going to collect dirt on anyone anymore.
Brittany Vanderbilt is dead.
CHAPTER 4
Aseries of screams goes off behind Mackenzie and me, and we both turn to see an entire gaggle of her friends losing their minds on this balmy night in June.
Okay, I’ll admit, it’s not a good look to be holding a bloody knife above the woman you just threatened to end in front of half of Cider Cove. If I were a betting woman, I’d say Mackenzie’s approval rating just took a nosedive.
