AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Gunshot wounds will do that.” I don’t mean for it to come out sarcastic, but the wry humor can’t be missed.
“Yep.”
We wind through the hallways, passing medical staff and visitors alike until the metal-on-plastic sounds and hum of hushed conversations of the cafeteria reach our ears. We grab far too many pastries, a glut of coffee, and enough bottled water to hydrate an entire hospital wing.
“How do you fit into all of this?” Exton asks after we check out, balancing the coffee and moving into the hall.
“Excuse me?”
“You were there, right??”
“I was. The threats were mounting, and Brax wanted legal counsel present when he discussed the case with the sheriff.”
He’s silent for a moment before continuing his questioning, “And the barn?”
I fight not to shuffle the bags of water and food. Every movement is a clue to the veracity of my statements. “I was there at Brax’s request. He was worried about Colt’s safety and knew he’d be targeted. He wanted Colt with Brighton while he was distracted.”
“Ah.”
After a long silence that few can stand comfortably, we arrive back at Kimpton’s room. I stifle a sigh of relief. I like Exton, but chatting with a human lie detector while hiding a secret is the mental equivalent of jogging in burlap underwear.
I offer Emberleigh her coffee. “Where’s Braxton? I figured he’d be here by now.”
“He had an errand to run. He’ll be here in a bit.”
An errand? What the hell? Forty-eight hours ago, we were dodging snipers and kidnapping attempts and today there’s vague errand-running?
“Pop, are you good if Willa and I take off and head to the condo for a shower?”
“Will you bring me back a cheeseburger?”
Four sets of incredulous eyes lock on the man.
“Those are your terms?” Willa’s smile pulls wide. “You should’ve negotiated harder. For a nap and a shower, I would’ve brought you whiskey too.” She shakes her head and stands, walking to Exton and threading her fingers through his. “Your negotiating skills are getting soft.”
“Text or call if you want anything else.” Exton lifts his chin as he starts for the door.
“Cheeseburger and onion rings,” Kimp reiterates.
Exton shakes his head, not refusing his dad, but almost incredulous at his request.
I grab my tablet and move to that damned vinyl loveseat, propping my coffee and pastry on the end table beside it. I delve into work, offering as much privacy as I can to Emberleigh and Kimp. If they need more, they never ask.
“I’m damn good at my job, you know.” Emberleigh is saying.
I’m lost in work when something in Emberleigh’s conversation with Kimp drags me right back into the room.
And not in a good way.
“Last night, Braxton asked if he could retain my services for the PR challenges that will undoubtedly be on your doorstep after an attempted kidnapping that ended in a triple homicide.”
She’s not wrong. Technically, she’s not right either. There were four homicides yesterday, but she must not know the precise body count.
“And?” Kimp replies, earnestness in his features.
“And I told him I would absolutely do it to protect the family, the business, and Colt’s future. I told him, too, that the best way to handle this is for you to be the face and the voice—not to have a spokesperson from an outside PR firm fill that role. I’ll coordinate the strategy, but you, Pop… You need to be the front man.”
Kimp looks over her head and holds my gaze.
