I went to the hospital and told Paul everything, explaining Jeremy’s deception. He was not pleased in the least, but he promised to make sure that, before we left town, the inn would be taken care of for me through some legit contacts of his. And unlike some people in my life, when my brother made a promise, he kept it. He also promised to have his people make Jeremy’s life a living hell, but I told him not to bother. Jeremy had just been doing his job. If he’d really cared about me like he’d claimed, he would’ve approached the situation differently.
Maybe he’d just never known me at all.
Either way, he didn’t deserve my brother breathing down his neck. Witness Protection might make Paul legit, but he would still have friends in low places.
Then I went back to the inn to say good-bye for the last time. The work on the living room was almost finished. The furniture I’d picked out would be delivered Monday, and Paul had promised to have his guy place it according to the floor plan I’d drawn on a napkin, using the fireplace as a focal point. The antique white fireplace stood out against the pale walls, and the hardwood floors shined with the fresh coats of varnish we’d put on after Jeremy had sanded them. The sun shone in the windows, reflecting off the shiny floor, and the room was as bright and inviting as I’d imagined it would be.
I swallowed hard at the ache in my chest that had never fully gone away since the other night. I headed for the kitchen, taking in the detailing on the moldings. Now that the DEA knew everything, things had started to move along quickly. However, the closer I got to the kitchen, the more cautious I grew. The air smelled like spaghetti sauce, and soft classical music played from my bedroom. I hadn’t made any sauce, or left the radio on.…
“Jeremy?” I called out, my heart racing.
Knowing he was here, waiting for me to come home as if nothing had happened, made me equal parts nervous and angry. When I found him, I was gonna kick his ass. I knew that with one look at him, the chemistry between us would roar back to life, but I’d be strong and resist him this time.
No one answered as I entered the kitchen, staring at the sauce. It bubbled slowly, painting the glass lid with little spurts of red. There was a bouquet of red roses on the counter, and the combination of the red sauce and the red roses set me on edge. Jeremy knew I didn’t like roses any longer, and, despite his terrible lies, he’d never remind me of the abusive dead ex-boyfriend I’d killed.
I made my way to the front door, walking slowly, heart pounding with fear. Even though it might seem crazy to think that Javi had broken into my home to make spaghetti sauce and turn on Mozart…I knew, I just knew, that something was wrong. I’d never doubted my instincts before, and since they’d saved my life more than once, I wasn’t about to start now.
I opened the drawer with my gun inside it slowly, lifting the Glock cautiously as I made my way up the stairs. I could leave, call Jeremy for help, but I was done leaning on other people for support. I’d taken care of Richard all on my own—I could handle Javi, too. Each step I took brought me closer to whatever waited for me up there. Whether it was Javi or Jeremy, there was going to be a fight.
The second-to-last step creaked as I put my weight on it, and I froze. The gun wavered, and I tightened my grip on it, trying to talk myself down. I was probably overreacting. Maybe it was Jeremy in my bedroom, putting together some grand romantic gesture, like sprinkling flower petals on my bed. Maybe this would all be a bad daydream.
There was no way in hell I’d call out his name again…just in case. I crept around the corner of the hallway, keeping an eye out for movement from any other rooms along the way. I passed Jeremy’s, which was empty, and sucked in a deep breath at the entrance to my room. The door was cracked open, and I saw a brown-haired male, his head lowered as he sat on my bed. The very sight sent a chill down my spine.
Because that hair…I knew it.
I’d run my fingers through it, once upon a time.
Biting down on my lip, I stepped forward, my knuckles aching and my heart pounding. My weapon wobbled in concert with my trembling body, as I nudged the door open with my foot. It creaked and the man lifted his head, locking eyes with me.
My gaze met brown eyes. Dark, soulless ones. His jaw was hard and unbreakable.
“No,” I whispered, staring with horror at the man on my bed as my stomach turned. “You’re…you’re…”
“Dead? Sorry to disappoint.” Richard gave me a small smile. One I recognized all too well. He usually smiled like that before he “corrected me.”
No. No, no, no, hell, no. He was supposed to be dead. I’d killed him. Watched him hit the floor, not moving, as blood sprayed from his chest. This couldn’t be…
Shaking my head, I aimed the gun at his chest and did the only thing I could do, given the situation. The only thing I could think of that might save my ass.
I pulled the trigger again.