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I huffed. “Fine. I don’t want you there because I don’t want you to see me fail.”
“What makes you think you’ll fail?”
“I don’t think I’ll fail. But I won’t be good at it at first.”
He kissed my cheek. “You’re adorable. All proud and indignant.”
“I am who I am,” I said.
“And that’s who I love. All right. Go with Ruby. You’re certainly safe with her.”
“I’m safe at a shooting range,” I said. “Everyone will be armed.”
He removed his pants and rolled back on top of me. “I’m armed right now.”
Chapter Forty-One
Bryce
Watching Marjorie leave to go shooting with Ruby wasn’t easy for me, but I did it. I had other things to attend to, like figuring out what to do about Brad Steel.
Why didn’t he want his children to know he was alive?
Because they’d be mad as hell, and I was pretty damned angry myself.
I kept silent for one reason, and one reason only.
If Marjorie’s safety was at stake, I’d keep silent about her father being alive. I’d do anything for her protection.
Absolutely anything.
In the meantime, I had to get back in touch with Dominic and get more information. Somehow, we had to find Cade Booker and find out what he was up to.
Marjorie felt sorry for Cade, and I understood her reasoning. Cade might have been taken against his will as a child, sold for cash by his own father, but he was not innocent in this. We had no proof that he’d killed his father and his mother, but if it was out there, I’d find it.
I also had to uncover the connection between him and Ted Morse. Knowing Ted, I figured it was probably money.
I swallowed the acidic taste in my mouth.
Keeping Brad’s secret didn’t feel right.
It didn’t feel right at all.
Heading back to my father’s cabin had happened on autopilot. I’d gotten in my car, determined to drive into Grand Junction and trade it in for another, something I’d been meaning to do since my father died.
Somehow, though, I’d ended up at the cabin.
Most of the furniture was still outside the cabin. Joe and I hadn’t bothered moving it back in when we’d put it outside to lift up the floorboards. Oddly, the only stuff we found had been buried in the bedroom Joe and I had shared.
Typical of my father.
Hide in plain sight.
Where would we look if we thought he was hiding something? Certainly not in his son’s room.
He was brilliantly psychopathic.
Yeah, the acidic taste was still on my tongue.
