Page 28 of Crossfire Creek Vengeance

Jessa closed her eyes for a heartbeat, then met her brother’s glare head-on. “I told him what little I knew, which wasn’t much.”

Roman shook his head, frustration cracking through his composure. “You shouldn’t have told him anything.”

“He asked,” she shot back, heat rising in her chest. “And the inheritance is tangled up in Lauren’s secrets, in what Wynn thinks, in what someone might be trying to expose.”

Deacon leaned forward. “If someone thought they had something to gain, or lose, because of that inheritance, it could be motive. For Lauren’s poisoning. For tonight.”

Jessa’s throat tightened. She knew he was right. Roman knew it too. He just hated that this had come to the surface with Deacon around. No way was Roman going to forgive Deacon for arresting Lauren and him.

Roman’s jaw tightened until the muscle in it twitched—his tell. The one he couldn’t hide, no matter how composed he pretended to be. “The inheritance problem,” he said slowly, “it was connected to Shade.”

Jessa certainly hadn’t expected him to say that. “Shade? How the hell is he involved?”

Roman gave a clipped nod. “He found the false documents. Your birth records. The ones Mom altered when she brought you into the family.” His eyes darkened, voice dropping. “I had to hide them. Bury them. Before he could sell them. Or use them.”

Deacon’s brows shot up. “Hide them? Meaning what, exactly? Roman, did you break the law?”

Roman met his stare without flinching. “I bent it.”

“That’s not much better,” Deacon muttered.

Roman didn’t bother arguing.

Before Jessa could ask what “bent” entailed, Roman’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, and his whole expression darkened further.

“Dammit,” he growled under his breath, and something harsher following it. “I have to go,” he said, sliding the phone back into his pocket. His voice was calm, but it carried the crackling heat of barely leashed fury. “But listen to me—” He caught her gaze, pinning her in place. “I will find who murdered our mother. No stone unturned.”

Jessa’s heart twisted. “Roman…”

Deacon stood too, wincing from his stitches. “Stay within the lines on this one, Creed.”

Roman turned toward him with a humorless smile. “I won’t make that promise.”

Of course he wouldn’t.

He looked at Jessa again. And for all his hard edges, there was a flash of something deeper. Fear for her. “Someone is gunning for you,” Roman reminded her. “Be careful. You want to come back to San Antonio with me? I’d prefer it.”

Jessa didn’t get the chance to respond.

“I’m not letting her out of my sight,” Deacon insisted. “She’s in my protective custody.”

Roman’s expression cooled. “That wasn’t a question.”

“Neither was mine,” Deacon shot back.

The tension between them snapped taut, electric. Jessa stood between them, heart hammering. Roman. Deacon. Two men who would burn the world down to keep her safe.

And somewhere out there, someone who wanted her dead.

She thought her best shot at finding out who that was and stopping him right here with Deacon. Added to that, he was in danger because of her. Because someone maybe wanted to use him to get to her.

Jessa drew in a breath. “I’m staying with Deacon,” she insisted. “In fact, I’m putting Deacon in my unofficial protective custody.”

Roman blinked once. Twice. Then he let out a rough, disbelieving huff that might’ve been a laugh if it didn’t sound so strangled.

“Fine.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, exasperated. “Whatever. Just call me. If you need anything.”

He didn’t wait for her response. Roman turned on his heel and strode out of Luna Mae’s, with his shoulders tight, jaw set, pushing through the door with enough force to rattle the frame.