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There is no breathing life back into the garden that died long before my granny did…the one my grandpa tended so carefully. All those flowers and herbs are gone. My mom helped him tend so many of those flowers. And now, one of my last connections to her is gone. It hurts a little bit like losing her all over again.
I carefully climb to my feet and unlock the door before stepping out onto the porch to greet Callum. Except when I lift my head, it's not Callum's truck parked in the driveway. And it's not Callum striding up the sidewalk toward me.
Thomas Huntington.
I take a quick step back toward the house, hoping to make it back inside before he sees me. It's St. Patrick's Day. Luck should be on my side at least once today. But it isn't.
"Miss Byrne." His hazel eyes meet mine, a grim smile on his face.
"I thought we agreed you weren't going to show up on my property anymore, Mr. Huntington," I say, proud when my voice doesn't shake. "You need to leave."
"I'm afraid I can't do that. We need to talk."
"We have nothing to talk about."
"I know what happened to your store."
I hesitate, not sure if he means he heard what happened or if he means he knows what happened because he's responsible. "Everyone in town knows what happened," I mutter. "I'm sure it's the talk of the town."
"You know that isn't what I mean."
"Then what do you mean? Did you destroy my store?" I growl.
"I had nothing to do with that," he says, holding up his hands. "I won't stand here and say that I'm innocent in any of the misfortunes that have befallen you lately. I regret that I was…deceived."
"Deceived?" I gape at him. God, he even talks like a good ole' boy, dancing around the point, trying to tidy it up in pretty language like that'll change the fact that he and his company have been trying to kill me. "You and your company have been trying to kill me to get my land!"
"I was trying to scare you, not hurt you, Miss Byrne. Had I known about your connection to Dante Arakas, I can assure you, I never would have gotten involved in this scheme." He expels a breath. "I'm trying to make it right now."
No, he isn't. He's trying to absolve himself of guilt because he thinks Dante Arakas is my cousin.
"How can you possibly make this right?" I cry. "You and your company destroyed my store. You destroyed the only connection I had left to my grandfather and my mom." My voice cracks. "How could you possibly make that right?"
"You misunderstand," he says softly. "Ransom Oil had nothing to do with what happened to your store, Miss Byrne."
"What? What are you saying? You just told me that you guys are the ones behind everything!"
"I haven't been working alone."
I gape at him, shocked silent. And then my stomach begins to churn as suspicion grows, sending bile crawling up my throat. He isn't working alone. Of course he isn't. "Who?"
"Your neighbor, Silas Wembley."
I knew he was going to say that, but hearing it sends all the air rushing out of my lungs anyway. Silas is behind this? God, I should have listened to Callum on day one. He was right all along. My neighbor isn't just a creep. He's a psycho.
"Why?" I ask, completely numb.
"He wanted you and the money. We wanted the land." Mr. Huntington has the grace to look apologetic. "He thought if we teamed up, we could both get what we wanted. He failed to disclose that you're related to Arakas."
"Who tried to drive me over the edge of The Falls?"
"Silas."
A small movement in my peripheral catches my attention. I glance toward the back of Mr. Huntington's silver truck just in time to see Silas step out from behind it, a pistol in his hands and a sneer on his face.
"I should have known I couldn't trust you," he growls at Thomas Huntington, aiming the gun at him. He doesn't even flinch as he pulls the trigger.
I scream, jumping backward.
Mr. Huntington stumbles forward a step as a pool of red blooms across his chest. He lists to the side, his expression contorting. And then he falls.
Silas steps over him without a second glance, training the gun on me. "Hi, sweetheart," he says as if he didn't just shoot someone in cold blood. As if he didn't destroy my business and my life this morning. As if he has any right to call me that. "It didn't have to end this way, you know."
"You're insane," I whisper, the first words that come to mind. They're true. He is insane. How else was it supposed to end? What fantasy did he concoct in his mind? I'd run into his arms in search of safety, and we'd live happily ever after on the money Ransom Oil paid for the land? My stomach churns at the thought. God. That probably is what he thought would happen.
