Headed for Trouble (The McKay Family #1) (40 page)

“No, I…”

Narrowing her eyes, Neve grabbed Moira’s phone from where she’d dropped it on the counter. As Moira tried to grab it, Neve backed away, pulling up Gideon’s number. There was a picture of him, and Neve’s heart twisted looking at it. “You still love him,” she said. She dialed the number as Moira made another swipe for the phone. When Gideon came on the line, she said, “Moira needs to tell you something.”

She didn’t wait for his response, just passed the phone over.
Tell him,
she mouthed. Then she headed toward the door.

Moira sagged against the counter. “Gideon…”

She shot a look back over her shoulder, grinning at her sister as she went to open the door. “Hello, pet.”

*   *   *

Oh, how he’d waited for this.

Neve stood in the doorway, staring at him as though she’d seen a ghost.

William relished every second of it, from the way her pupils dilated to the way her breathing began to race.

“Did you miss me, love?”

She clutched at the doorknob and he saw her muscles tighten. Throwing up a hand, he stopped her from slamming the door. Shoving his way inside, he reached out.

Neve backed away.

“Oh, don’t do that,” he said silkily. “I’m already cross with you.”

“Get out.” The words were steady and delivered in a steely voice.

“Come, Neve. We’ve so much to talk about.”

“No.”

Tensing, he turned his head and watched the other woman move into his line of sight. “You don’t have
anything
to talk about.”

The other woman was slim and slight, her features startling in their similarity to Neve’s. She had a few lines around her eyes, though, and her voice was frosty.

“You must be Moira,” he said.

“And you … I don’t think I need an introduction.” The smile Moira gave him was positively savage, like blood-drenched ice. “Now get the hell out of my house.”

William studied her for a moment. That contemptuous look on her face made him want to strike it from her lovely face. But she wasn’t who he’d come for. “I will. Now that I’ve got what I came for.”

“If you think I’m leaving with you, you’re out of your ever-loving mind.”

He cut a look toward Neve. A ripple of surprise swept through him when she didn’t back down.

No, she lifted her chin. Her mouth trembled and he could see the mad flutter of her pulse in her neck.

“Enough,” he said.

“Are you
crazy
?” She backed away, stopping when she came up against the large island that dominated the brightly lit kitchen. “I’ll come with you when
hell
freezes over.”

“Darling.” He sighed and smoothed a hand down his shirtfront. He really hadn’t wanted it to come to this, but what was he to do? “You’ll come
now
.”

“Get out.” Moira stepped in front of her sister and it was a comical sight. Neve was the taller of the two, her slender, elegant frame towering over the shorter woman, but Moira’s protectiveness was undeniable.

Family was such a nuisance.

Although it could come in handy. “Neve,” he said softly. “If you don’t come with me now, it won’t go well for you. Either of you.”

*   *   *

“We’re going in quiet,” Gideon barked into his radio. “If I see a single light flashing or hear a fucking siren, I’m going to personally skin the son of a bitch responsible.”

“Got it, Chief.”

A moment later, another voice came over the radio. “Gideon, we’ll get there. Just remember, this is my jurisdiction,” Sheriff Tank Granger said, his voice firm. “I’m not letting some son of a bitch skate by on a technicality.”

If Gideon accidentally killed the fucker,
technicalities
wouldn’t be an issue.

He was there.

Gideon had been quietly searching for the man who’d laid his hands on Neve ever since she’d come home. But it had been a fruitless search and he had started calling any motel, hotel, or inn within an hour’s drive. He hadn’t seen William Clyde as the type to rough it.

He’d struck pay dirt—too late—when he’d run into Karen White, owner of Bygone Treasures, one of the few bed-and-breakfasts in town.

Too late. Too little, too late.

If Clyde hurt either of his ladies, there wouldn’t be a hole dark enough or deep enough for him to hide in.

The miles sped by, his cruiser eating up the distance between the town and Ferry at a speed that would have made Brannon’s driving look sedate. Dust flew up behind him as he whipped the car to the right at the intersection, finally on the road that led to McKay’s Ferry—and his heart.

He’d get there.

Nothing would happen

Next to him, his phone remained on mute, playing out what was happening with Gideon a silent, helpless witness.

Neve’s voice came through it, shaking, but strong. “
Get out of my house, William.”

There was a sharp cry in the next moment and Gideon tightened his hands on the steering wheel.

*   *   *

Ian climbed off his bike, staring up at the big house with trepidation. The nasty words painted on the fuel tank had been covered with a coat of primer, but he he hadn’t decided on how he wanted the bike to look yet, so he was stuck with the dull gray. The whole ride out here, he’d wondered if he’d done the right thing, calling in his assistant manager to hold down the fort at the pub so he could come see Neve.

He almost knocked, but he was worried if he did, Neve might not answer.

He’d just let himself in.

They almost always kept the door off the kitchen open and more often than not, the family came and went through that door. So he’d just do that, too.

He hadn’t managed to clear the corner of the sprawling home when he heard a roar coming up behind him.

Scowling, he turned his head.

His gut turned to shards of ice, deep and cutting, as he saw the line of police cars tearing up the drive toward him. Instinct screamed for him to take off, get inside that house and find Neve.

But he held still.

When Gideon came out of his car, all but exploding in a fury of motion and rage, Ian closed one hand into a fist.

Gideon saw him and beckoned him.

Ian looked back at the house and then shook his head, turning on his heel and taking off up the path that led to the house. He wouldn’t get in the way. He’d do his best to
stay
out of the way.

But Neve was in there. Fuck them if they thought he’d just sit idly on by without knowing that she was safe.

The darkness, nearly complete, had him moving at a snail’s pace up the cobbled pathway and he had to bite back a snarl of fury when hard hands grabbed him. He reacted out of habit, spinning to take the fucker down.

It didn’t happen that way. Gideon wasn’t quite as big as he was, but he was canny and quick, and the two of them had a brief tussle that ended with Ian being slammed against the wall.

“Stop,” Gideon said, his voice a growling whisper. “Clyde’s in there with Neve and Moira and if you get in my way, I’ll see your ass in jail.”

Mind-numbing panic and blood-boiling fury, they both blistered inside Ian, rising up in a storm that had him ready to explode. “I’ll stay back.” Abruptly, he shifted his weight and twisted, managed to break away from Gideon. Officers fanned out around him. He’d fight his way through every last one of them. But they might not have time. “I’ll stay back. But I’m going up there.”

*   *   *

Neve bit back a scream as Moira crumpled to the floor.

William had blood on his face and a fury unlike anything she’d ever witnessed lit his eyes.

He went to kick Moira as she rolled to her knees.

Neve leaped on him and her weight sent him staggering forward. “You bastard.” Fear was an ugly red rose in her belly, but fury smashed it, choking it and strangling until it started to die. He’d hit her sister.

Fisting a hand in his hair, she jerked.

He’d hurt Moira.

His hands caught her hair and he yanked, trying to throw her off him but she’d wrapped her legs around him.

He reared back, driving her spine into the counter and she cried out as pain tore through her.

Then there was more pain and she heard a sickening wet
crack
.

Blood roared in her ears as he threw her off and she fell to the ground, clutching her left hand.

“I’ll deal with you later,” William said frostily.

Then he turned to Moira.

Moira had staggered her way upright, clutching at her side, and she stared at William, eyes gone to ice.

William started toward her.

Neve tried to fumble her way up, scrabbling at the surface of the island. Her hand brushed against something and she looked down. Time slowed as she curled her hand around the corkscrew, the sharp spiral still jutting out.

“Some man you are,” Moira said, curling her lip. “You get your rocks off knocking women around?”

“I’ll
get my rocks off,
as you crudely put it, when I shut you up, you frigid little bitch.”

Neve slid off the island.

Her body didn’t feel like her own.

The hand clutching the corkscrew could have belonged to a stranger.

And her voice, soft and strangely flat, sounded nothing like her as she said, “William.”

He tossed her a dismissive look.

That look turned to shock as she swung up, burying the corkscrew in his neck.

He roared.

Neve jerked the utensil sideways as blood splashed out.

He gurgled.

And then, as she let go of the corkscrew, William Clyde slid to his knees, lifting a hand to his neck. Hot red blood spurted out.

The door crashed open.

Still feeling like she wasn’t even part of herself, she lifted her head and watched as uniformed officers swarmed the room.

They went to block her view, but she stepped around them, going to her knees just at the edge of the ever-widening pool of blood.

William’s eyes were closed.

“Neve…”

Warm arms caught her. “Ian…”

“Aye. I’m here, love. I’m here.”

When he caught her up against him, she turned her face into his neck, closing her eyes against the river of red that soaked the floor of her family home.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

William was here
.

Brannon fought the terror as he sped down the road.

He’s dead. I think
.

Moira’s words circled through his head over and over in an endless loop. His calm, cool, collected older sister had spoken in a shaking voice and he could still hear the panic that had underscored her voice.

Moira was
never
afraid. But she’d been petrified.

William was here. He’s dead. I think. Neve killed him
.

His hands shook and he tightened them on the wheel.

If William Clyde
wasn’t
dead, then Brannon would rectify that.

He’d touched his sisters. The son of a bitch would die for it.

Breathing through his teeth, fighting the urge to pound something, he flicked a look at the clock.

When he looked up, he swore long and loud, slamming on the brakes with a force that all but shoved the pedal through the floor of the car.

Joel Fletcher stumbled toward him.

“She’s dead. I think … I think she’s dead. I didn’t…”

He sucked in a breath and then went to his knees on the shoulder as Brannon rolled down the window to tell him …

“Hannah,” Joel croaked out.

Nothing else could have gotten through to him. Nothing but that single name. The words penetrated the fog of rage and fear and his aggravation stuttered, veered immediately into a whole new kind of terror.

Hannah. The woman he wanted more than he’d ever wanted anything—the woman he’d walked away from only hours before.
His
Hannah?

Throwing open the door, Brannan went to haul Joel back to his feet.

“She’s dead. Hannah’s dead…” The man wretched, then started to puke.

“Where’s Hannah?” Brannon demanded in between spasms. Joel swayed and then lifted his head.

“Fletcher, talk!”

Something in his voice cut through and Joel raised a hand, waved toward the trees on the right side of the road. “She wrecked. I ran off the road and was walking … she … she almost hit me and crashed.”

Brannon dropped Fletcher and turned, staring at the broken and busted greenery on the side of the road.

The red was buried in it, all but lost in the kudzu and grass.

That wasn’t Hannah’s car.

He started to breathe once more as he jogged over. Shayla. That was Shayla Hardee’s car.

Okay, it was a bad wreck and as much as Shayla annoyed him, he hated to think of her being hurt. But it wasn’t Hannah—

Long, golden hair shone through the window.

Brannon’s world screeched to a grinding halt as his gaze landed on the blooming red of blood that dripped down her still, lifeless face.

*   *   *

Gideon stood in the waiting room of the small county ER.

Small it might be, but the emergency department was state of the art. Gideon suspected there was a plaque somewhere with the McKay family name imprinted on it.

One of the women he loved was tucked away in one of the exam beds, with Ian Campbell at her side.

The other, Moira, sat on a chair a few feet away, her hands clenched into tight little fists while she stared stonily ahead.

He wanted to go to her.

But he couldn’t.

Not yet.

“Dead,” he said quietly after the deputy on the other end of the phone finished up a quick oral report. “You’re telling me you found Shayla Hardee dead.”

“Yeah.” There was a pause and then Deputy Clayton Hodges said, “Hannah Parker was in her car when she wrecked. I know she runs out on the path by the river a lot. We’re…” He hesitated and then continued. “We’re thinking she saw something, maybe whoever hurt Shayla and was running away or found Shayla’s keys or something. We don’t have an official time of death, but Shayla’s been dead a couple of hours. Dispatch had a call at approximately ten thirty-eight. The connection was touch and go, but the call taker says she thought it was Hannah. Hannah said something about somebody dead.”