Her shoulders slump and she averts her gaze.
“Look at me, Nanna,” Kit demands.
The old woman lifts her head, regarding her granddaughter.
Good choice.
“Did you try to kill me?”
The way her voice cracks punches straight through my heart.
A brief flicker of sadness flashes in her grandmother’s eyes as she shakes her head, but there’s also something else lingering there…
Shame.
Like deep down she knows Kit’s been right about her uncle this whole time.
She motions for Reggie to fetch her notebook from the floor. After he hands it to her, she writes, What makes you so certain it was him who blew up the plane?
For fuck’s sake. Her denial is revolting.
However, I think I’ve figured out a way to verify he’s the person behind Kit’s attacks.
“I can prove it.”
This piques her interest. How?
I look at Reggie. “Has he contacted her since the plane blew up?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
I eye Gullible Granny. “Has he?”
She gives her head a shake.
“Good. Then I want you to call your son. Tell him Kit died in that plane crash and you’re so distraught you’re changing your will and giving all the money to charity in her honor.”
This way, him being the next of kin won’t mean shit.
“What?” Kit squeaks behind me. “Why?”
“Because then he’ll think his plan worked.” I hold Nanna’s stare. “And he’s going to come after you next.”
I can tell this makes her nervous because her eyes go wide with panic.
She’d have no reason to be on edge if she truly thought he was innocent.
I think back to the question she scrawled on her notepad during our first meeting. The one she didn’t want Kit to see.
Even though Kit already knew the answer.
“You once asked me if I would protect your granddaughter and I told you with my life. Now it’s time for you to do the same.” Leaning down, I get close to her face. “We’re gonna prove he’s the one doing this. But this time, you’re the target.”
Chapter 47
Preston
Reggie hangs up the phone and addresses his boss. “He took the news surprisingly well, madam. He sends his condolences and said to call him if there’s anything you need.”
Shooting me a dirty look, the old prune pencils something on her notepad. See? He’s innocent.
Beside me, Kit bristles.
Crossing my arms, I lean forward in my chair. “He’s playing you because he doesn’t want you to suspect anything, you fucking moron.”
Pressing her lips into a tight line, she lights a cigarette and begins waving it in front of my face.
“Well, we called him,” Kit says. “What do we do now?”
“We wait.”
Biting her nails, Kit paces back and forth in the library we’re hiding out in. “What if this doesn’t work? What if something bad happens?”
I take the gun I brought with me out of my waistband. “The only thing that’s gonna happen is karma.”
I’ll make sure of it.
She stops pacing and peers down at her shoes. She looks so vulnerable right now, so pliable, it tears me wide open. “I’m scared.”
In two strides, I’m hauling her into my arms.
“I would never let anything happen to you.” I touch the poker chip hanging off the thin silver chain. I put it back on her neck the other night while she was sleeping. Because it belongs to her. Just like I do. “Ever.”
She places her hand over mine. “What about you?”
“I’ll be fine. As long as you promise to stay in the room the whole time.”
I can tell she wants to protest, but it’s not up for debate.
“I’m not fucking around, Kit. I can’t focus if I have to worry about protecting you.”
She blows out a breath. “Fine—”
The doorbell rings and I signal for her to keep quiet. The last thing I want is for him to figure out we’re still alive and have the upper hand.
I hear the front door open followed by Reggie’s voice. “Hello, sir.”
“Has the lawyer been here yet?” a male voice who I assume belongs to Garrison, barks.
Kit and I exchange a glance. The fucker wasted no time getting down to business.
“No, sir,” Reggie says. “He’s scheduled to arrive in a few hours.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Garrison mutters. “Where the hell is that stupid, senile woman?”
“Follow me.”
The sound of heavy footsteps heading toward the dining room makes my trigger finger twitch. I want nothing more than to put a few bullets into the head of the fucker responsible for causing Kit so much pain.
“Hello, Mother. I’m sorry to hear about Kit. I know you were very fond of her.”
At that, Kit makes a face.
“I understand this is a trying time. Especially with you being sick and all. However, you need to stop being foolish. You and I both know the money should go to me.” The sound of a gun cocking makes the hairs on my arms rise. “Or else.”
I can’t hear what the old bat says given she can’t speak, but I assume whatever she wrote pissed him the fuck off because he snarls, “I don’t give a damn that you’ll be dead soon. I didn’t go through the trouble of planning my brother’s murder or kissing your wrinkly ass for the last sixteen years just so you could give all my money to charity.”
And there it is.
A sad, painful sound leaves Kit and she sprints out of the library before I can stop her.
“Your money?” she screams as I follow her into the dining room. “It’s my parents’ money, you evil piece of vile shit.”
Goddammit.
Garrison spins around, looking like he’s seen a ghost.
“What the hell?” He points his gun at Kit who looks like she’s getting ready to charge him. “How the fuck are you still alive?”
I quickly yank Kit behind me and aim my gun at his head. “Surprise, motherfucker.”
Two things happen at that moment.
One. A shot rings out.
And two. A bullet pierces Garrison’s skull.
But not from my gun…
From Nanna’s.
She holds up her notepad as his lifeless body drops to the floor. You were too slow, you inept shithead.
Kit groans. “Seriously, Nanna?”
Tucking my gun away, I narrow my eyes. “Nice shot, you old bag.”
Chapter 48
Kit
It’s been three weeks since my grandmother blew my uncle’s brains out.
Preston keeps asking how I’m holding up. Not because he’s dead—but because the asshole confessed to murdering my parents before he died.
Truth is…I’m kind of relieved.
Obviously, not that my parents were killed because that will always devastate me, but that my gut feeling about Garrison being the one behind it was right.
And while the truth won’t bring them back, and there is no amount of justice in the world that will make losing them hurt any less...I feel validated.