Also, that he missed me.
“Stupid bitch.”
He raises his weapon to fire again, and I don’t hesitate. I aim and squeeze the trigger at the same time, scrunching my eyes shut. The gun bucks in my hand, and there’s a whiff of sulfur, accompanied by the same muffled crack.
A third bang goes off, this one louder than the other two. I open my eyes and whip my gaze toward the hall. To the place where the third shot rang out.
“Holy shit.”
Cort Bracelyn steps through the bathroom doorway, pistol gripped in his hand. He wears a blonde wig and mustache, but I’d recognize him anywhere. The green of his eyes is masked by colored contacts, but I know the shape of them from photos.
He’s not looking at me. He’s staring down at Skullcap on the floor. At the bullet hole blooming bright crimson in the center of the man’s forehead. The center, not the side.
You fired that shot. Not him. You did it, Izzy.
I push the thought aside and gape at the man whose cheekbones match mine.
“Son of a bitch.” My father shoves a pistol in the waistband of his slacks and looks at me. “Nice shot, darlin’”
I stare at him with my mouth wide open. “I—you—holy shit.”
“Yeah, that’s what the other kids said.” He laughs like this is hilarious, but I’m shaking too hard to see the humor. “Seriously, girl—that was a badass shot.”
“Th—thank you,” I manage to stammer. “I took shooting lessons.”
“I know.” He steps over to me and offers a hand up. “I paid for ‘em.”
My mother told me once that Cort Bracelyn sent money for my protection. I never grasped what that meant, but as he hoists me to my feet, I understand. “You did?”
“Yep.” He jerks his gaze to the doorway. “Paid for him, too.”
I turn to see Dante’s bulk filling the doorframe. He’s got a gun trained on Skullcap, in case the bullet in the man’s brain wasn’t enough to keep him down.
“Took me a minute to get here.” Still gripping a pistol, Dante steps fully into the room. “This guy had some friends I needed to deal with.”
I swallow hard and lower the gun I didn’t realize I’m still holding. “Where’s Kevin?”
“Safe.” Dante lowers his own weapon and surveys me. “You okay?”
I nod, though I’m not sure that’s true. I turn back to my father, half convinced he’s a figment of my imagination.
But no, my not-so-deceased dad is moving toward me, holding out his hand. “Give me that.”
“The gun?” I grip it tighter, struggling to know whom to trust. “What for?”
“Because I’m dead,” he says matter-of-factly. “Can’t be prosecuted for murder. You, on the other hand—”
“He’s right.” Dante jerks his chin at my father. “Give it to him. Or to me, and then get the hell out of here.”
“But—” I swing my gaze back to the body on the floor. “I killed someone.”
I don’t know this for sure. There were three shots fired, and as far as I can tell, only one hit the man on the floor. Dante steps in front of me, blocking my view. He holds out his hand, and when I look in his eyes, there’s a kindness there I’ve never seen.
“Killing a man can mess you up.” He flicks a glance at my father. “He fired the kill shot. You’re clear.”
I recognize what he’s offering me. An out, a chance to wash my hands of blame. It’s an unexpected mercy, though I’m not sure I want it.
But I do know I trust him. I may have saved my own life just now, but these men had my back. If I’d faltered, if I’d missed, they would have covered me.
I don’t know why, but the thought makes me feel stronger instead of weak. I lay the gun in Dante’s palm, then turn to the man who gave me his DNA.
“You’re here,” I say. “You’re really here.”
The man who knocked up my mother shrugs like it’s no big deal to return from the dead. “I come to all my kids’ weddings.” A frown as he considers this. “Some disguises are better than others.”
“I see.” I don’t, though. I have so many questions, and I don’t know where to start.
Which is okay, because Cort Bracelyn has something to say. He steps up beside me and rests a hand on my shoulder. It’s oddly paternal, though I have little frame of reference.
“I understand you’ve got one coming up,” he says. “Wedding, I mean.”
I stare at him as his meaning sinks in. As Bradley’s face flits through my brain, his words echo once more through my skull.
“Plans change. The future you think you’re destined for—it can become something different in the blink of an eye.”
“You’re mistaken.” I lick my lips and look my father dead in the eye. “I’m not getting married.”
His eyes flash with surprise. “Oh?”
I nod, savoring the surge of self-reliance pulsing through me. “I’m done being anyone’s puppet. I’m making my own decisions from here on out.”
“Ha!” He squeezes my shoulder, making me jump. “That’s my girl.”
“I’m no one’s girl.” I lift my chin, ignoring the sight of Dante dragging Skullcap’s body from the room. “I’m a goddamn woman with free will.”
“Damn right you are.” My father grins. “Fiery, just like your mother.”
I’m not sure what to say to that, but I’m spared the need to respond when Dante slips back into the room. “You need to get out of here. Deadeye is on his way.”
“You mean Bradley?” Panic surges up my throat. “What for?”
“I texted him,” Dante says. “Thought we might need backup.”
Cort laughs, pounding a hand on the back of the sofa. “You underestimate my daughter.”
“Everyone does,” I say.
But not anymore.
I meant what I said. I’m done letting other people call the shots. Done being a puppet for my parents’ ambitions. It’s time for me to decide what I want.
And what I want, more than anything, is another shot with Bradley.
“Izzy?”
I gasp and turn toward the door. He stands there in a suit with his tie askew, a pistol gripped in one hand. He lowers it when he sees me, blue eyes flashing. “Are you okay?”
I have never been so okay in my life. True, I’ll probably need gobs of therapy, and my legs might not hold me up much longer.
But right now, I’m very much okay.
“Bradley.” I take a step toward him. “You’re here.” I glance at the gun. “And armed.”
Surveying the room behind me, he holds the pistol at the ready. “I keep it in the truck. I was told you might need help.”
I step toward him, heart thudding in my ears. “False alarm.” I swallow hard, still dumbfounded he’s here. “You came for me.”
He takes a step forward, nose crinkling. “Is that gunpowder?”
“Um, yes. Yes, it is.” I glance behind me, not at all surprised to see my father has vanished.
Dante stands stone-faced at the threshold of the dining room. Glancing from Bradley to me and back again, he nods once. “I’m gonna grab the pig.”