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“That’s good.” Releasing her waist, I push against the seat, doing my best to steady myself. “I can help, Roland. I’m just so fucking dizzy.”
“You need to stay in the car with Lara.”
We pull up at the store, and I look out in the direction of the house. The front door is still open, and the soft yellow light from inside is cancelled out by the harshness of the streetlight on the corner.
Roland gets out of the car, and Armand joins him. Summoning all my willpower, I grasp the door handle and open it, using the side for balance.
“We can’t just walk up to the front door,” Roland is saying.
“I’m going with you.” I’m able to stand without holding the door, but the ground s
till tilts.
Armand grasps my shoulder. “It’s a foolish thing to go up there in your condition. You’ll only put us all in danger.”
Lifting my chin, I meet his dark eyes. My jaw is set, but I know he’s right. If I can’t focus my gaze on the horizon, what the fuck makes me think I can focus on a moving target?
Roland joins him. “Lara needs you. Jilly needs you. We’ll go back there and try to get a visual through the window.”
“Don’t get yourself killed,” I relent, leaning against the side of the small black car as they take off into the darkness.
Lara’s head rises out of the vehicle beside me. “I saw a water bottle in Armand’s car,” she says softly. “Stay here while I get it.”
Her feet crunch in the fine gravel, and she opens the door of Armand’s car. My eyes strain in the direction of Landry’s quiet house. I lost sight of the guys when they went around the corner. Staying back here is killing me. If something happens to them, and it’s my fault…
“I hope this doesn’t hurt.” Lara is at my side again, pouring water onto that white towel from before. “Drink the rest.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, taking the water bottle as she gently wipes the blood from my cheek. “When I came over here I thought I could get him to trust me, maybe even confess, go on record to verify any of the shit we did. I thought I could get inside, find the thumb drive… None of that happened.”
“He threatened Jilly,” she says softly, not smiling. She pauses briefly, catching my gaze before returning to her progress cleaning my face.
“I never expected—”
“I hope you killed him.” This time her blue eyes stay on mine, and ferocity is in them.
My lips tighten, and I look away from her gaze. Taking a long drink of water, I try to see anything happening at the house. “I want to be the one to do it. I want to go back there and finish this myself…”
As I’m speaking, two figures emerge from the bushes and run up the front porch steps.
“Get in the car and lock the doors.” I take off in the direction of the house, shaking away the remnants of the vertigo.
I’m not as sure-footed as usual, but I jog the half-block and cross the narrow road. My boots scuff in the gravel as I cross the street, thudding up the stairs, but when I reach the door, both Armand and Roland are inside, standing side-by-side and blocking my view of where Landry fell.
Heat rises in my neck, and conflict cyclones in my chest.
I’m a cop, and even though I have the head injury to prove I acted in self-defense, even though I know this guy is responsible for many crimes, I don’t relish taking a life.
But when this motherfucker threatened my baby, “Is he dead?” I step forward, and Roland steps to the side.
My eyes go to the spot they were inspecting and see…
It’s empty.
“He’s gone.” Armand pivots to face me, his jaw clenched. “Either he staggered out on his own, which means he could turn up dead in the swamp tomorrow, or someone came and got him, which means we need to get back to Evie. Now.”
“Fuck,” I hiss, looking at the bloody stain on the floor. “Did you see any kind of a trail… anything out back that shows where he went?”
“Nothing.” Roland’s expression is grim.
