Skylar yawned and stretched the next morning as the sun’s first rays slanted through the blinds on the window beside her hospital bed. The big round clock on the wall announced that it was a quarter till eight. She prayed it was the last eight o’clock in the morning she’d experience in this hospital. The doctors and staff had been wonderful. But lying in bed for so long was beyond boring.
A whisper of sound had her looking to her right. Poor Trent was sleeping in the extremely uncomfortable-looking visitor’s chair. He’d come in and out many times to check on her. But the nurse kept telling him to let her sleep and they’d never gotten a chance to really talk. Judging by how wrinkled his suit was, he must have slept in it.
Her heart swelled as she watched him. Never in her life had she known a man like him. Smart, brave, loyal, great in a gunfight, and gorgeous to a fault. And he cared about her. Just knowing that had crazy hopes swirling through her mind. Hopes for a future, a normal life, with him. But it would only be a dream if there wasn’t some way to ensure that she’d be safe from the Lancasters.
Living in fear was no way to live. She wouldn’t wish it on anyone. And even though it would break her heart to never see him again, that’s what she’d do if it meant letting him live a normal life. He deserved so much more than to be tied to a woman who was always looking over her shoulder.
He stirred in his chair, blinking and sitting up. When he saw her watching him, he gave her a sleepy smile. “Morning.”
“Morning. You didn’t need to stay here all night. I would have been fine.”
He glanced at the clock, then straightened. “Almost eight. Good grief. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Thankfully, Callum’s guarding your room. Anyone could have come in otherwise.” He shook his head, obviously disgusted with himself.
“Guarding my room? You really think Scott’s men would try something in a hospital?”
“I think until that deadline passes, anything’s possible. But I may have a solution to our problems. Give me a minute. I’ll explain, but my bladder is about to burst.”
She laughed as he jogged around the bed and headed into the connected bathroom. When he came out, he gave her a sheepish grin. “I stole some of your toothpaste. Don’t worry. I used my finger, not your toothbrush.”
“Well, thank goodness,” she teased. “But in payment for my pilfered toothpaste, you have to lower this stupid railing. You’re not the only one who needs to hurry to the bathroom.”
“Your wish is my command.” He lowered the railing and offered his hand to help her.
She almost refused, feeling silly since there wasn’t anything wrong with her. But lying in bed had made her wobbly on her feet and unexpectedly dizzy. She might have fallen if he hadn’t been holding her up.
After seeing to her needs—including the toothbrush—she climbed back in bed, with his help.
“Stop looking so worried,” she told him. “I’m fine.”
He didn’t seem convinced as he clicked the railing into place. But he didn’t argue. He returned to his chair on the other side of the bed. “I want you to listen to this recording.” He thumbed through some screens on his phone.
“A recording of what?”
He set the phone on the bed beside her. “Scott and Phoebe Lancaster talking in his hospital room yesterday afternoon.”
He pressed the screen, then sat with his forearms resting on the railing.
Skylar sat in shock as the conversation played. Even though Scott’s voice was gravelly and rough from having been punched in the throat, his words came through clearly. He and Phoebe talked openly about the will’s upcoming five-year deadline and that they still needed to kill Skylar. They discussed the worst-case scenario, that if she wasn’t dead by then and went to the trustees, they’d have to bribe or potentially kill the trustees, or figure out some other way to prevent her from inheriting. Nothing was going to stand in their way of the money they felt they deserved.
She shook her head in disgust, her stomach twisting at the thought that she was actually related to these horrible people. Then it got worse. Phoebe complained that when Scott and Richard had killed Capone, they should have killed Mattly. Otherwise, all these years later the investigator—she assumed they meant Trent—wouldn’t have talked to Mattly and gotten curious about the will.
They argued, each of them angry and nasty with each other. She blamed him for everything that had gone wrong and he blamed her.
“It would have looked too suspicious killing both lawyers at the same time,” he insisted. “I kept tabs on Mattly over the years to see if he knew anything about the bookie and loan shark businesses that we forced Capone to help us run. Never seemed as if he knew anything except about our legit enterprises. With the deadline growing closer, I kept more frequent tabs on him, just in case he knew more than I thought he did. You should be thanking me for that. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have known that the Skylar witch was in town and we wouldn’t have figured out about the rental house.”
“If you’d taken care of Mattly years ago—and Skylar—Richard would still be alive.”
They devolved into more heated arguments. Trent turned off the recording.
Skylar sat there, stunned. “What vicious, nasty, horrible people.”
“The worst. I was pleasantly surprised they spoke so openly, as was the FBI agent who helped me set this up. I guess with Richard dead and Scott hurt, they both were emotional and sloppy. Lucky for us, we were able to take advantage of it.”
“How? I can’t imagine them talking like that with anyone else in the room.”
“They didn’t. I convinced one of Scott’s visitors to plant a tiny recording device, a bug, on Scott’s bedframe. The FBI got a warrant to plant it based on statements from that same visitor, information they knew about Scott and Phoebe Lancaster’s criminal activities from overhearing conversations over the years. You only heard a small part of the conversation. They went on to discuss strategies for keeping their illegal businesses going. Apparently Richard was the brainchild behind everything and they’re worried about how to keep operating without him.”
“I’m afraid to hope. But this is good news for me, right?”
“The best. They admitted to murder and a dozen federal crimes. The FBI got a search warrant based on the recording and is at the mansion right now. They already texted me that there’s a gold mine of evidence there. They’ll both be going to prison for a very long time. You’re free, Skylar. You can live your life without looking over your shoulder anymore.”
She burst into tears.
He lowered the railing and climbed into the bed beside her. She clung to him as he rocked her and stroked her hair.
A knock sounded on the door and Callum stepped in. His brows arched in surprise when he saw them.
“Yes?” Trent’s voice was short, unapologetic.
“Right, um, you told someone to meet you here around eight. They’ve been waiting in the hallway for several minutes. Do you want me to tell them to come back later?”
Trent glanced at the clock. Five after eight. He swore.
Skylar pulled back and wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry. You have a meeting? It’s okay to leave. I’ll be fine, really.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes again.
He kissed her forehead and climbed out of the bed. After raising the railing, he looked at Callum, who was watching them with undisguised interest. “Give us one minute. Then send them in.”
“Will do.” He stepped outside and closed the door.
“Skylar, I asked someone to meet you here, not me. It’s the person who gave the FBI the information they needed to get that search warrant for the mansion. And the person who was brave enough to place the bug in Scott’s hospital room. I thought you might want to meet them.”
She wiped her face and fluffed her hair as she scooted farther up in the bed. “Of course. So many people have helped me. Especially you. I’d love the opportunity to thank one of them.”
Before Trent could finish explaining about the visitor, Callum opened the door and ushered her inside.
There was no point in a further delay now. He motioned toward the woman. “Skylar, meet your maternal grandmother, Abigail Flores.”
Abigail ran to Skylar’s bed. They collapsed in tears as they wrapped their arms around each other.