I raced over, peered out the window, and saw Steel and Edge each take one of Possum’s arms and lead him into the parking lot.
I couldn’t see what happened next, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
Edge
Late November
“Sod off,” I said for at least the tenth time today. Without exaggerating, I’d likely muttered it over a thousand times in the last few months. My brother, Lennox, was the recipient more often than anyone else.
I flexed the fingers of my right hand. I’d only recently regained full mobility in my arm after a bullet tore its way through it. I’d been lucky, though, as Lennox reminded me on a regular basis. I was still alive.
For a while, I hadn’t wanted to be. I couldn’t do my job without the use of my arm, and who the hell was I if not a private intelligence operative? In my mind, nobody.
I’d suffered through three painful surgeries and three rounds of physical therapy. Starting back from the beginning each time was the most mentally debilitating. I’d done my best to keep the rest of my body as strong as it had always been, but the equipment at the rehab center was sorely lacking compared to what I had in my home gym.
That’s where I was headed now—home—at least where I considered it to be: in Texas. I didn’t own the house I lived in. It was on the King-Alexander Ranch, in the hills north of Austin, and up until several months ago, one of my business partners had lived in it.
When Decker Ashford got married, he moved to a nearby ranch, which belonged to the woman who was now his wife. Before I could ask, like I’d planned to, he offered to let me move in. I paid a modest amount of rent and, when I was in town, helped with chores around the ranch.
I had enough money to buy my own place. A house, at least, but living on a ranch was something I’d dreamed of since I was a wee lad. Being able to walk into a barn, saddle up a horse, and ride out on the open range was the best kind of life I could imagine.
I flexed my hand again, like I always did when I thought about things I might not be able to do as well as I once had. I didn’t anticipate having trouble riding, but I wouldn’t know for certain until I tried.
“I’m leaving for Boston in two days’ time,” said Lennox, looking over at me from the driver’s seat of the vehicle he’d rented.
“Couldn’t get a flight sooner?”
He didn’t answer. I hadn’t expected him to. While he was my brother, too often we fell into the role of parent and child. I was thirteen when our parents were killed in an automobile accident—one that almost took my life too. Lennox was eighteen at the time and became my guardian. I treated him far worse than I ever would’ve our father. Most of the time, he took it in stride, but given I was now in my mid-twenties, he shouldn’t have to.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “Stop for a pint?”
“Sure.”
He knew the way to the closest place to the ranch, so I leaned my head back against the seat and closed my eyes, remembering the last time I was at the Long Branch.
I’d met Rebel there shortly before I left Texas and spent much of my recovery fantasizing about her and how her body had responded to me. I could see her pebbled nipples through her shirt and smell her arousal when I told her how I’d kiss her if only I hadn’t been leaving the next morning.
Instead, the bastard who’d tried to rape her showed up that night, and I’d been forced to teach him a painful lesson. I already hated him but more intensely now, considering he prevented me from what might very well have been the last fuck I ever had.
The parking lot was full when Lennox pulled in; we walked inside and found the bar was three-deep and it didn’t look like there were any open tables. I pushed my way through, daring anyone in my path to give me reason to vent my ever-present rage.
When I got up to the bar, I didn’t see Rebel, but Bobby reached over to shake my hand. I said a silent prayer it wouldn’t spasm, like it did sometimes.
“Good to see you back here, Edge.”
“Thanks, mate.” I picked up the pint he set in front of me and took a long swig. “Keep those coming.” I gestured to my brother. “Pull one for him too, would you? Two shots of Irish while you’re at it.”
While I waited for him to come back with my order, I looked around but still didn’t see Rebel. Should I ask about her? How much of a wanker would that make me?
Deciding the possibility of getting laid outweighed my pride, I went for it. “Where’s Rebel?” I asked after Bobby set the two shots in front of me.
“You haven’t heard?” he answered, scrubbing his face with his hand. “Shit,” he muttered.
Why had I asked? Why had I even come in here tonight? I wasn’t sure I had enough alcohol in me to hear whatever it was he was about to say. I handed Lennox his pint and shot, downed the whiskey, and finished my beer. “Heard what?”
“Rebel’s in jail.”
“Bloody hell. What for?”
“Killin’ Possum.”
I gripped the bar, letting Bobby’s words sink in. I remembered every detail of what had happened that last night I was in town. Rebel hadn’t killed Possum, but I knew who had.
“Where’s Steel?” I asked.
“Fucker moved to Austin.”
Bobby moved away to wait on other customers, not that I planned to question him further. I’d get far more information about Rebel’s arrest from Decker.
“Ready?” I asked Lennox when I saw he’d finished his pint too. It was too noisy for me to try to explain why I didn’t want to order another.
We walked out to the parking lot in silence, and I was thankful for it. I was consumed by what had really happened that night as I got in the car and Lennox drove toward the ranch.
I checked the time on my mobile. It was a little after eight; not too late to send a text asking Decker if we could meet in the morning.
What’s your twenty? he answered a few seconds later.
Ranch gate.
At the main house.
“Stop here,” I said when we drove up. “There’s something I need to talk to Decker about.”
Lennox nodded and parked the car.
Once inside, I saw Grinder and Rile seated at the table along with Deck. With them were Quint Alexander, the ranch’s owner, and his wife, Duchess Darrow Whittaker-Alexander, who also happened to be an agent with my former employer, Her Majesty’s Secret Intelligence Service. I’d been with MI5, the domestic side, while Darrow, code name Shadow, was with the international MI6.
I walked over to kiss her cheek. “Hello, Shadow.”
Rile stood and embraced me. It had been almost a month since I saw him in London the night before my last surgery.
He took a step back, held out his hand, and I shook it. “Good,” he murmured, commenting on my grip. “Back to normal?”
I nodded, turning to Grinder. It had only been a week since I saw my best friend.
“You all right?” he asked as he embraced me like Rile had.
Grinder’s eyes scrunched when I shook my head.
“Can I get you a drink?” Quint asked.
“Please. If it’s not an intrusion.”
“Of course not.” As the son of MI6’s current chief, Quint was used to impromptu meetings taking place in his kitchen.
“Lynx.” Rile used my brother’s code name. “Do you have an answer for us?”
“Soon. I promise.”
The four original Invincibles’ partners—myself, Decker, Grinder, and Rile—had agreed to offer Lennox a partnership in our firm. I expected he’d join us, but first, he had some unfinished business in Boston with a woman I anticipated he’d ask to be his wife. If she agreed, I was certain he’d leave his own post with SIS and partner with us.
“What did you want to meet about?” Decker asked.
I motioned toward the kitchen, so we could talk privately. “We stopped by the Long Branch on our way here, and Bobby said there’s been an arrest in a murder that took place shortly after I left.”
Decker nodded. �
�Possum.”
“That’s right.”
“He was found dead in the Branch’s parking lot the day we flew to Boston.”
I leaned back against the kitchen counter as the thoughts swirling in my head left me unbalanced. “Fuck,” I muttered, not intending to say it out loud. “Come with me.” I led Decker out the back door.
“What’s goin’ on, Edge?”
“I was there, Deck.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m the one who killed Possum.”
5
Rebel
“You have a visitor, Marks,” said the guard, opening the door to my cell.
“My lawyer?”
She shook her head.
I wasn’t surprised to hear it wasn’t him. The bastard hadn’t set foot in the jail once. The handful of times I’d talked to my public defender were in court. Honestly, that was okay with me. The guy gave me the willies anyway. There was something about him that was just…creepy.
“Gotta be a mistake.” I walked behind her, down the corridor to the visitation rooms, a part of the jail I’d heard about but had never been in.
She unlocked the door, and I followed her in. When I saw who was waiting on the other side of the glass partition, I wished I could turn around and walk back out.
“What are you doing here?” I asked after picking up the phone receiver the guard had pointed to when she led me to the table.
“How are you, Rebel?” asked the man I’d prayed would show up here for the first month after I was arrested. Finally, I’d given up hope, and here he was.
How was I? I was in jail for a murder I didn’t commit. “Edge,” I said, not answering his question.
“I heard what happened. Listen, I…” He looked on either side of him at the other visitors talking with prisoners. “I’m sorry. I was away a lot longer than I anticipated.”
I shrugged. What could I say? That it was okay? It wasn’t okay or not okay. It just was.
“We need to talk, and I want you to know I’m working on…things.” He moved the phone receiver to his other hand and shook the one that had been holding it, like it had fallen to sleep or something. “I wanted to get here right away, though. I, um, flew in last night.”
“I didn’t do it,” I whispered, wishing I hadn’t the second I did. I didn’t owe him an explanation.
“I know you didn’t, and I’m trying to rectify that right now.”
Rectify it? What did that mean? For weeks I’d wondered if Edge had killed Possum, or maybe Steel, not that I admitted my suspicions to a soul. Had I been right?
“I’ve a solicitor meeting me here in an hour’s time. After that, we’ll see how quickly we can get in to see a magistrate.” He looked left and right again. “Once the solicitor gets here, we’ll be able to talk in private.”
I moved the phone away from my ear.
“Wait,” I heard him say before I hung it up. “I’ll make this right. I promise.”
I placed the receiver in the cradle and turned around to motion the guard. I looked over my shoulder one more time. When my eyes met Edge’s, he mouthed, “I’m sorry.”
“Busy day,” said the same guard who’d escorted me out of my cell earlier. “Now it is your lawyer.”
I followed her down a different corridor, this time to a room. It was empty when we entered, but a few minutes later, Edge walked in with a man I didn’t recognize.
“Remove the cuffs,” the man barked at the guard.
“Sir, I—”
He stalked over and shoved a piece of paper at her. “Remove them. Now.”
I rubbed my wrists after she did and then watched her walk out.
“I’m Sterling Anderson.” He held out his hand. “Your new attorney.”
Attorney? The guy looked more like a bodybuilder with a tattoo addiction. I could see them peeking out of his shirt collar and also at the end of his sleeves. His head was shaved, but his beard was full. As I studied him, he never took his eyes off of me. Was he analyzing me while I did the same to him?
I ripped my gaze from him and turned to Edge. “What’s going on? What about my other lawyer?”
“I hired him to represent you.”
“I don’t understand why the judge didn’t make the PD recuse himself. He’s got a goddamn tie to the vic,” the Anderson guy said, shaking his head as he studied the file he held.
“I still don’t understand.”
“I’m working on your release. I’d prefer to schedule a hearing to have the charges against you dropped, but at the very least, I’ll be getting you out on bail, pending dismissal.”
Edge walked over and took my hands in his. “I’m going to confess.”
I started to shake. He had killed him. Fuck. And all this time, I sat in jail, paying for a crime I didn’t commit.
“Come and sit.” He led me over to the table and pulled a chair around so he was sitting in front of me, our knees almost touching. I should’ve resisted, but I was too stunned.
“That night—”
“Hang on a minute,” said the lawyer.
Edge glared at him and then looked back at me. “I didn’t mean to kill him, but—”
The bald guy interrupted him again. “You didn’t.”
Edge shook his head. “We’ve been over this, Hammer. I told you what happened that night.”
“You did. However, this,” he held up a thick report, “says Possum died of a gunshot wound.”
Edge’s eyes opened wide. “What? Are you certain?”
“One of the bar’s employees found him the next morning, lying next to his truck. Thought he was passed out drunk until they flipped him over. Unless things happened differently than what you told me earlier, you didn’t kill him.” Then he looked at me. “When Edge left that night, you were still at the bar?”
I nodded.
“For how long?”
“Hammer…” Edge glared at him, but the man ignored him.
“How long, Ms. Marks?”
“They locked me in the goddamn storeroom.” I glared at Edge and then turned back to the attorney. “I was in there for at least fifteen minutes when he knocked on the door and told me that Steel was going to make sure I got home okay.”
“Steel?”
“The bouncer,” Edge answered before I could.
“Could he have shot him?”
“Negative. He went back inside before I left.”
“Could he have come back out?”
“No.” I interrupted. I was the one who was still there after Edge had left. Why the fuck was he answering all the questions? “Steel followed me home and walked me in.”
“Did he stay?”
“No.”
“Did you go back to the bar?”
“Hammer!” This time Edge stood and banged his fist on the table. “Stop this!”
“I need to know, Edge. Either I ask the questions, or I walk the fuck out of here. Which is it going to be?”
Edge scrubbed his face with his hand. “Go on, then. But tread carefully.”
“Did you go back to the bar?”
“No.”
“Did you go anywhere else?”
“No.”
“What did you do?”
“Went to bed.”
“With anyone?”
Edge stalked toward the lawyer and got in his face. “Enough, Hammer,” he seethed.
“Back the fuck off, Edge.” He turned back to me. “Did you kill him?”
“No.”
“Did you want to?”
“Yes.”
“What was your motive, Ms. Marks?”
“The fucker killed my mother.”
The lawyer took a deep breath, let it out, and looked at Edge. “Now you see what we’re up against.”
“I didn’t do it.” For the second time, I wished I’d kept my mouth shut, but now that I knew Edge hadn’t killed him and Steel probably hadn’t either, I needed to start sticking up for myself.
Both men looke
d at me, but only Edge spoke. “I know you didn’t.”
The lawyer pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked at something on the screen. “We’ve got our hearing.”
Edge squeezed my hand. “When?”
“Three hours, which means we have a lot of work to do.” He pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. “Edge, it would be best if you let me confer with my client alone.”
“Bail is set at one hundred thousand dollars.” The judge banged his gavel on the bench.
Great. Any hope I’d felt after meeting with the lawyer—Hammer, as he insisted I call him—vanished. I doubted I even had ten dollars in my wallet, wherever that was being kept, and in the bank, I had even less.
The tips I made tending bar at the Long Branch were decent, but before that, I’d lived paycheck to paycheck, working a crappy waitressing job at the Barton Creek Diner.
A bailiff escorted me out of the courtroom, but instead of taking me back to the jail, she took me to a meeting room like the one where I’d met with my previous lawyer. A few minutes later, she returned with a bag.
“These are your belongings. Change your clothes, and when you’re ready, knock on this door and I’ll come back in to take you downstairs.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You made bail, honey.”
“How?”
She shrugged. “Ask that fine-as-hell-lookin’ man. Maybe he posted it.”
When we walked out of the elevator and through the glass door, I could see Edge talking to Hammer. As if he sensed my approach, he turned his head and looked straight at me.
“I wish you the best,” said the guard, leaving me at the door.
“Thanks,” I responded, not knowing what in the hell I was supposed to do next.
“I’ll be in touch.” The lawyer said to me before he waved and walked out, leaving me alone with Edge.
“Ready?” he asked.
“For what?”
“We’re leaving.”
I motioned to the door. “Can we talk outside?”
“Of course.” He motioned for me to go ahead of him. “Listen, I know you may be pissed, but it was the only way.”
Edged (The Invincibles Book 2) Page 2