Chapter 6 - BROTHERSNathan looked older than he had three days earlier.
Not physically.
Something behind his eyes had changed.
The charm was gone.
The jokes.
The wounded younger-brother act.
For the first time in my life, I saw him without a mask.
“Kick Mercer’s gun away.”
I did.
Mercer groaned on the concrete.
Nathan’s bullet had hit his shoulder.
Alive.
Barely useful.
Nathan moved closer.
“You should’ve stayed out of this.”
I almost laughed.
“You put my daughter in a hospital.”
“That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“You sent men into my house.”
“To retrieve stolen property.”
“Laura’s letter?”
“My property.”
“It exposed you.”
“It exposed mistakes.”
“Miguel Santos died.”
Nathan’s jaw flexed.
“That was fifteen years ago.”
“As if time resurrects him?”
“You don’t understand what happened.”
“Then explain.”
Maybe he wanted to.
People like Nathan usually did.
For years, he had lived inside a story where he was the victim.
Now he finally had an audience.
“The Brighton project was going under,” he said. “Dad was going to lose millions. The scaffolding needed replacement. We didn’t have time.”
“So you certified it anyway.”
“We reinforced it.”
“Not enough.”
“Miguel wasn’t supposed to be on that section.”
“And that made it his fault?”
“He ignored instructions!”
His voice echoed.
Mercer stirred.
Nathan aimed at him.
“Don’t.”
Mercer froze.
I kept Nathan talking.
“Laura found the records.”
“She wouldn’t let it go.”
“Because someone died.”
“Because she hated me.”
“No. She feared you.”
Something moved in Nathan’s face.
Good.
Anger narrowed attention.
I needed him focused on me, not the tactical officers approaching outside.
“You threatened her.”
“I warned her.”
“You had Rourke kill her.”
“I told Rourke to scare her.”
“Same excuse Travis Bell used.”
Nathan’s face changed.
He hadn’t known Bell talked.
There.
Fear.
“You’re lying.”
“He’s in custody.”
Nathan looked toward the warehouse door.
Tiny movement.
I saw calculation.
“You’re wearing a wire.”
I said nothing.
He stepped toward me and yanked open my jacket.
The transmitter was taped beneath my shirt.
His face went still.
“You always thought you were smarter than me.”
“No.”
“You did.”
“I thought you were my brother.”
Nathan ripped the wire away.
Then he fired toward the ceiling.
The sound thundered.
“BACK OFF!” he screamed toward the darkness.
Police remained hidden.
Nathan grabbed Mercer by the collar and dragged him upright.
Mercer screamed from the injured shoulder.
“You’re coming with us.”
“Where?” I asked.
Nathan pointed the gun.
“Truck.”
There was an exit behind the loading dock.
A vehicle waited outside.
He had planned this.
We moved.
Nathan forced Mercer into the passenger seat of an old pickup.
I drove.
Nathan sat behind me, gun pressed against my neck.
“Lake cabin.”
The road stretched dark ahead.
Police couldn’t follow closely without revealing themselves.
I had no idea whether Shaw had trackers or aerial surveillance.
I had to assume she did.
Twenty minutes later we reached the cabin.
Nathan marched us inside.
He bound Mercer to a chair.
Then he ordered me to open the floor safe.
“There’s nothing there.”
“Open it.”
The safe had belonged to Dad.
Inside were property documents, emergency cash, and an old revolver.
Nathan took everything.
Especially the cash.
“You’re leaving.”
“Yes.”
“You won’t get far.”
“I don’t need far.”
“What’s the plan?”
“Canada.”
“Every border crossing has your face by now.”
He smiled.
“Not every border requires a checkpoint.”
Nathan knew contractors who worked near the northern border.
He had planned longer than we realized.
Mercer looked pale.
“You promised me money.”
Nathan glanced at him.
“That was before you became stupid.”
“I kept you out of prison for fifteen years.”
“And I paid you.”
“You need me.”
“No.”
Mercer understood.
He was no longer a partner.
He was a loose end.
Nathan raised the pistol.
I moved.
Fast.
The first shot hit the wall.
I drove into Nathan’s shoulder.
We crashed against the table.
Mercer kicked at him despite being tied.
Nathan struck me across the face with the pistol.
White light burst behind my eyes.
Then a second shot.
Silence.
Nathan stumbled backward.
For one horrifying second, I thought I’d been hit.
Then I saw blood on Nathan’s arm.
Mercer had somehow reached the revolver from the safe after it fell to the floor.
His bound hands barely held it.
Nathan aimed at Mercer.
I grabbed his wrist.
The gun fired again.
Glass shattered.
We hit the floor.
Nathan was younger.
I was stronger.
But fury gave him something close.
He drove his thumb into my injured cheek.
I lost my grip.
He scrambled toward the door.
Then brilliant white lights flooded the windows.
“POLICE! DROP THE WEAPON!”
Shaw.
Nathan froze.
The gun remained in his hand.
“DROP IT!”
He looked at me.
Then at Mercer.
Then toward the rear door.
I saw the decision forming.
Run.
He turned.
I said one word.
“Violet.”
He stopped.
Maybe somewhere inside him, the uncle she once loved still existed.
“You nearly killed her,” I said.
His shoulders sagged.
“You did that.”
He turned back.
“You dug into things that were over.”
“No. Laura did.”
His face twisted.
“She should’ve stopped.”
“You killed her because she wouldn’t.”
“I didn’t—”
“You hired the man.”
“I didn’t tell him to kill her!”
“You created the danger and then blamed everyone else for what it did.”
For once, Nathan had no answer.
Shaw shouted again.
“Gun down!”
Nathan looked at the pistol.
Then let it fall.
Police stormed the cabin.
They put him face-down on the floor.
Handcuffs closed around his wrists.
As officers lifted him, Nathan looked at me.
Not angry.
Broken.
“You’re really going to let them bury me?”
I thought of Laura.
Miguel Santos.
Violet bleeding on our floor.
I met his eyes.
“You buried yourself.”
Then police took my brother away.
I thought it was over.
It wasn’t.
Because when detectives examined Mercer’s flash drive, they found the recording he promised.
And in that recording, Nathan mentioned one other person.
Someone none of us had suspected.
May you like
Someone who had known Laura’s secret from the beginning.
My father.
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