“Of course I was going to tell you,” he lied, trying to diffuse the suddenly volatile situation. “I just didn’t want to wake you up.”
“So what were you gonna do? Just leave a damned note on the kitchen table?
He was starting to get mad. He didn’t have time for this bullshit. “I-I don’t know, Britt. I just have to get out.”
“What about work?”
“I have it covered. Lance needed an extra shift. Could use the money.”
“We could use the money. What the fuck are you thinking?”
“Just go back to bed, okay? I’ve got this all handled.”
“What? You’ve got what handled?” she demanded as he slipped the strap of the duffel over his shoulder and forced his way past her. “What the hell’s going on, Chad?” she demanded, storming after him to the kitchen.
He stopped at the back door to step into his boots.
“Don’t. Don’t leave.”
“I have to.”
“But why?” And then the light dawned and she rolled her eyes. “This is about Jonas McIntyre.” She flipped on the lights, illuminating the orange Formica that was stained and chipped near the stove.
“He’s out.”
“He’s in the hospital. I don’t think he’s much of a threat.”
“Gotta go.” He laced both boots and straightened just as the cat hopped onto the kitchen counter and Brittlynn scooped the silver tabby into her arms. “Do you honestly think Jonas McIntyre is going to hunt you down?” I thought we talked about this already.”
“I’m not worried about him.”
She wasn’t convinced. “I thought you said if he ever got out, he would come gunning for you.”
“That’s not the problem.” He pulled his grandfather’s old Winchester from a hook near the back door. “It’s the cops. They’ll be lookin’ for someone to blame.”
“For what? You were already cleared for the murders on the mountain all those years ago.” A tiny smile lifted one corner of her mouth, and her green eyes glinted with a bit of evil he’d found fascinating from the first time he’d set eyes on her. “I’ll still back you up.” She petted the cat slowly, almost sensually.
“And what about Margrove, the lawyer?”
“You weren’t involved in that.” Her gaze fastened hard on hers. Her hand stopped stroking Jasper. “Right?”
“Oh, great, now you’re doubting me, too? Give me a fuckin’ break. I’m just sayin’ that his trailer is, like, two miles from here as the crow flies. They’re going to come snooping. They’ve already called work, y’know? Someone called Ted at the lodge checkin’ on me.”
“So what?” She lifted her shoulders and the big T-shirt slid off of one of her shoulders in a provocative way he found absolutely irresistible. And she knew it, the way she sauntered closer to him, her gaze smoldering as her eyes held his. “I’ll say that you were with me all night.”
It was tempting. She was tempting. And she knew it. That was the thing with her, she was mercurial, hot one minute, ice cold the next, sweet and warm and oh-so-sexy, until she stabbed you in the back. That’s what kept him interested he’d decided long ago. She always surprised. And intrigued. Even as a girl barely in her teens, Brittlynn had a dangerous side he’d found fascinating.
Tonight he wasn’t into any of it. And her plan of lying for him might not work. It could blow up. So far, she’d had his back, for twenty damned years. But she’d been desperate and fourteen, still a girl really, and now she was a woman in her thirties with her own mind, her own agenda.
But he didn’t want to piss her off. He said, “Look, I’ve got to do this.”
“Do what? Run?” she accused, pouting now, her lips pulling into a tight little bow.
“Whatever you want to call it.”
“So what if the police come here?” she asked as he reached for the door. “What should I say?”
“Tell them the truth: You don’t know where I went and when I’ll be back.”
“What if they want to know about the night that all those people were killed?”
“I don’t think you want to do that,” he said. “You were a kid then, you’re not now and you might be considered an accessory.”
“But you swore you didn’t kill anyone,” she said, her eyes rounding as she thought she might be an accessory to murder. He saw it in her expression, her doubts.