by Sybil Bartel
André stared at me in warning. “If you’re not, I’m going to torture you so fucking slow, you’ll wish—”
I stepped on the gas.
Talon yelled out, “Brace!”
The SUV slammed through the main building’s outer wall.
Keeping my foot on the gas, I drove the vehicle all the way through the outer room until we careened into River’s office.
Men screamed. The roof fell in, wood splintered, and metal scraped.
The SUV taking fire from River’s guards, Talerco and André started spraying bullets.
No emotion, I picked up my rifle and joined them, shooting at my own brothers.
A second SUV barreled into the building.
Dead bodies everywhere, dust rising, the return fire stopped. Talon and André opened their doors as the lights flickered and a support beam fell.
Papers clutched in his hand, his arms up, River stood from behind his solid oak desk.
André and Talerco trained their weapons on him.
Decima was out of the vehicle with her gun drawn before I reacted.
Then I was moving.
Glass crunched underfoot as I stepped over Spiro’s lifeless body.
Decima aimed at her father’s head.
“Chica, no!” André yelled.
Finally reaching her, slamming my hand down on Decima’s arm, I single-handedly raised my rifle and pulled the trigger.
River Stephens’s head violently exploded with a spray of blood and brain matter into the broken chaos of his chambers. His body dropped like a stone, and the papers in his hand fluttered to the ground like end-of-cycle butterflies.
Two sheets landed on my left boot, sticking to the blood spatter.
Two birth certificates.
Present
I GLANCED AT THE mobile device in my hand. The picture did not tell me he walked with a slight limp, or that his vehicle was well used. Nor did it tell me there were three females in the residence.
Not using a key, he opened the front door of his house and ducked slightly as he entered.
I knew the maneuver well.
When I had picked up the two birth certificates stuck to the blood on my boot, I had not expected to see my birth name, or an unfamiliar name listed under father. Nor did I expect the certificate to say plurality—twin.
I glanced at the four vehicles in the driveway as a light turned on in the front window.
I looked back the picture on my cell phone of the biological father listed on my birth certificate. Theodore Anders. Cleft chin, blue eyes, blond hair turning gray. I could have been looking at myself in thirty years.
There was only one reason for me to be here. I did not respect a man who had given his seed then walked away from his offspring, but I had looked for my sister and found nothing.
Theodore Anders had an address.
Andrea Anders, my twin, born one minute after me, did not.
I wanted answers.
Just like the federal agents that had descended on the compound after I had shot River Stephens wanted answers. I had been questioned repeatedly, then absolved of guilt in the name of self-defense. Callan Anders was the name I gave the federal agent who took my rifle into evidence. A month later, Callan Anders was the name I gave the department of motor vehicles when I legally applied for a license to drive. And Callan Anders was the name on the document bequeathing River Stephens’s entire estate to me.
Before I had killed him, River had told me—no, River had told Hero he was his most loyal subject. He had said with loyalty came rewards. He had trained, groomed, and manipulated me to carry on his legacy.
Then I had killed him without blinking.
I had done it for all the lives he had taken. I had done it so Decima did not have to. I had done it for justice. The few remaining compound members who survived the firefight were free, and now I was going to meet the man who had left me and a sister with an insane cult leader.
I opened the door of the old truck and stood. Three breaths and my breathing was predator calm. But crossing the street, my hand gave me away as I reached to smooth hair out of my face that was no longer there. Encountering the short stubble of a buzz cut, I shook the weakness of old habits away.
No locked doors, no security cameras, front hedge short enough to clear in one leap. No fence, no perimeter vegetation, no security of any kind. The father who had abandoned his children to another was complacent.
River Stephens had never been complacent.
He had taught me everything I knew.
I was a hunter.
And I was going to find my sister.
MY MOM SQUEALED LIKE a teenager as Ted said something I thankfully couldn’t hear.
“They’re disgusting.” My sister, Phoebe, flipped the page of her fashion magazine. “Get a room!” she yelled over her shoulder.
“Ted.” My mother giggled. “The girls are here,” she stage whispered.
“Oh my God.” Phoebe stood and tossed her magazine on the coffee table. Raising her voice, she yelled over her shoulder, “I came for dinner, not to listen to you two screw in the hallway.”
“Phoebe Ann,” my mother snapped as she came around the corner, fixing her shirt. “You watch your mouth.” Her hair was no longer in a neat twist.
Ted strode out with a smile on his face. “She’s like her mother.” He swatted my mom on the ass. “All sass.”
I rolled my eyes as I washed the pots and pans in the sink, but I didn’t disagree. Phoebe was sass times a thousand.
Mom checked the roast in the oven. “It’s almost ready.” She glanced at Phoebe as she went on tiptoe to reach for the plates in the cupboard. “Come help me set the table on the back porch. It’s nice out.”
“Mom,” Phoebe whined. “I just had my hair straightened. I’m not sitting outside in this humidity.”
Ted strode up behind my mother and reached for the plates. “You will if you wanna eat.” He handed the plates to Phoebe but softened his blow with a wink.
“Oh my God, I hate family night.” Phoebe took the plates and, with a huff, let the back door slam behind her.
Mom looked up at Ted. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
Ted kissed her on the nose. “Nothing you did, babe.” He grabbed silverware and napkins. “Just glad to have all my girls under one roof for the evening. I’ll help her set up.” He gave Mom his kind smile and followed Phoebe out the back door with the silverware.
Mom sighed as she watched him go. “He’s a good man.”
“Yeah, he is.” She deserved a good man. She’d worked her butt off raising me and Phoebe by herself. I was glad when she met Ted a few years ago, and even happier for her when he’d married her.
She smiled and shook her head, then looked at me. “We need to find you a good man.”
“Mom,” I groaned. “We’ve gone over this.” Too many times to count. “I’m happy for you, I really am, but I don’t need a man to make my life complete.” I was in school. I didn’t want to wait tables like my mother had had to, and I wasn’t about to follow my sister’s advice and go after every rich guy I met.
Besides, I wasn’t small and petite, or blonde and cute and pretty like Mom or Phoebe. My hips were too wide, my thighs rubbed together, and my dark brown hair was too thick to have perfect curls like Phoebe’s or Mom’s. Phoebe was crazy for straightening hers, but she said rich guys wanted long, straight hair. Whatever. No man had even looked at me since that gorgeous guy at the gas station twelve months ago, so it was a moot point.
“Oh, honey.” My mom put her arm around my waist. “You know I wasn’t saying that. I just want you to be happy is all.”
The timer on the oven rang a second before a knock sounded at the front door.
My mom grabbed the oven mitts. “Will you get the door, Em? I don’t want to burn the roast.”
“Sure.” I dried my hands and made my way to the front door, wondering if my life would be easier if I had a man. Probably not. I’d have less time fo
r schoolwork in the evenings, and I wasn’t about start cooking and doing laundry for someone. I was shaking my head when I pulled the front door open.
My heart leapt, then lodged in my throat.
Oh my God.
Oh my God.
It was him. Tall and blond and gorgeous, unreal gorgeous, it was my gas station god. He had shaved off all of his golden hair, but it was him. And holy shit, he was even more muscular than a year ago. And his eyes, his piercing, incredibly blue eyes.
I didn’t know how I remembered to speak. “Callan?”
His stare unwavering, his eyebrows drew together menacingly. “You live here?”
“Um, no?” Shocked, my answer came out sounding like a question.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
A lick of fear raced up my spine and my voice came out in a squeak. “Me? What are you—”
“Where is Andrea?” His deep voice cut through the air, even though it was bedroom quiet.
My stomach plummeted, and I shook my head. “There’s no one here by that name.” I knew a man like him would have a girlfriend. That was why he had said he wished things could be different. I’d known he was unavailable when I’d laid eyes on him. He was too gorgeous to be single, but when he’d cupped my face out of the blue, it’d felt so right. For one single moment, I’d forgotten where we were and I’d leaned into his touch, pretending he was mine.
His frown intensified. “You are Theodore’s daughter?”
Wait. He knew Ted? “No, yes, well, sort of. I’m his stepdaughter.” I glanced over my shoulder, even though I didn’t want to look away from him for one second, but Ted still hadn’t come inside. When I looked back at Callan, he was studying me so intently, I shivered. “Who’s Andrea?”
“You are cold?” Anger laced his tone.
“Um, no.” Cold was about the last thing I was. “Are you here for Ted?” This whole thing was so surreal, I couldn’t wrap my head around it.
“Who is it, Emily?” my mom called.
Callan tensed at the sound of my mom’s voice, but when Ted came in from the back door, his laugh carrying through the small house, Callan went perfectly still.
That’s when I saw it. Blond hair, square jaw, dimple, blue eyes….
Oh. My God.
Callan looked like Ted. A lot like Ted.
I glanced back at my stepdad as he held the door for Phoebe, and I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed the resemblance a year ago.
“I don’t care what you say. I’m not doing dishes.” Phoebe trailed in after Ted, but then halted abruptly when she saw the open front door and the god of a man standing on the stoop. “Whoa.” Her hand went to her chest.
“Ted?” I swallowed past a lump in my throat. “Can you come here?”
Ted looked up, and just like Callan, he went perfectly still. “Jesus,” he whispered, his face contorting into grief. “Callan?”
My mother stepped out of the kitchen. “Oh my God.”
His eyes glued to Ted, Callan barely tipped his chin.
Crossing the room in a shocked rush, his eyes welling, Ted grabbed Callan and pulled him into a hug. “Son,” he choked on a sob.
Holy. Shit.
My mother looked at me, then Phoebe. “Come on, girls. Let’s give them some privacy.”
Callan was Ted’s son. The son he’d told us was lost to him. Who he’d said he hadn’t seen in over twenty years because his mother had taken him. A son who wasn’t hugging him back. Or even rejoicing in the embrace his father gave him. His arms at his sides, his eyes weren’t even closed. In fact, he was staring at me. Right at me, like he’d been doing since I’d opened the door. Like he’d done at the gas station.
My gas station god was Ted’s son.
“No, babe.” Ted released Callan and swiped at his face as he let out an embarrassed chuckle. “Don’t go. I want you to meet Callan.” He beamed at Callan with a huge smile. “This is my son.”
His gaze cutting through all of us, Callan said nothing.
Ted gripped his shoulder and squeezed, dropping his voice. “I read in the paper about River Stephens. I wish I could say I was sorry.”
River Stephens? The River Stephens? The infamous leader of violent River Ranch cult?
Callan didn’t move a muscle, but the silent anger that spread across his expression was palatable.
Ted, oblivious at first to the thick tension surrounding us all, stared at his son. Then his face fell. “Aw hell, son. Where you there when it happened?”
Quiet, but all warning, Callan finally spoke. “I am no one’s son.”
Ted was nodding before he got the last word out. “I understand. I get it.” He gestured toward my mother. “Come in. Meet my wife and her daughters.” Ted smiled at my mother like he always did, like he was seeing her for the first time. “Callan, this is my wife, Marie.”
My mom held her hand out. “What a pleasure to finally meet you.”
The gas station god was my stepbrother.
Stepbrother.
And he grew up in River Ranch.
Holy fucking shit.
Without shaking her hand, Callan barely tipped his chin. The slight movement seemed like it was a huge breach of his usual mannerisms, and every second of our chance meeting last year came back in vivid detail. His odd way of speech, his intense stare, his quietness, his camouflage pants and green T-shirt even though he had said he was not in the military—it all started to make sense.
Either not noticing his lack of manners, or not caring, Ted grinned at me and Phoebe. “And this is Phoebe and Emily.”
Phoebe smiled like she’d won the lottery. “Well, aren’t you as handsome as you are tall.”
Ignoring her, Callan cast his gaze toward Ted. “Where is Andrea?”
Ted’s face fell, and he cleared his throat. His voice turned quiet. “I’m sorry, son. Your sister is dead.”
THE AIR STILLED AS four pairs of eyes stared at me.
The gas station angel stared at me.
I was no stranger to death. A hunter kills. But family was sacred, and now I had none. “What happened to her?”
Theodore’s hand rubbed over his head as if he were nervous. “Why don’t you come in and we can talk about it.”
I did not move. “What is there to tell?” Death was death.
And my angel was my father’s stepdaughter.
Ted slowly nodded. “Your sister was born with a heart defect. There was nothing me or your mother could do. Not even surgery could fix what she had. Sometimes that happens with twins, one is just… stronger.” He looked at me with pain in his eyes. “Your sister wasn’t long for this world, every doctor we saw told us that. But your mother didn’t want to give up, and when River Stephens promised her a miracle if she came out to the compound, she went.” He stopped abruptly and inhaled.
I knew of River’s supposed miracles, but I had no sympathy for this man. He was not my family. I may have had his blood in my veins, but he relinquished his responsibilities before I ever had one memory to keep of him. That was not a father.
My gaze cut to her. My gas station angel. Or fate’s cruel joke. I no longer knew which. Anger infused with shock, and I waited for her smile, but all I got was a waiting stare in return.
Theodore shifted uncomfortably. “Stephens said doctors couldn’t fix her, but that God could. So your mother took you and your sister and moved to the River Ranch compound. A month later, I got word that your sister had passed.”
Looking away from my angel, I focused back on the man who’d given up his offspring. “And you did nothing.”
“Son, you don’t understand. I wasn’t even allowed on the property for the funeral because I wasn’t a member. There was nothing—”
“I understand perfectly,” I cut him off. “My biological mother passed when I was three, and you left me in the hands of a cult leader.” An insane cult leader who made me kill my first deer at age four with a hunting knife.
The man standing in front of
me who gave up all claim to his son gripped the doorframe for support as his face lost all color. “Your mother’s dead?”
I did not have time for this. Not for him, not for the angel, none of it. I turned to leave.
“Callan,” Theodore barked, finally infusing the authority of a man into his tone. “You wait right there a second. I’m not done talking to you. You need to hear me out.”
He was too late to hold any influence over me. “I owe you nothing.”
“Damn it,” he swore before anguish choked his voice. “I didn’t know your mother passed. I should’ve come for you, but I didn’t know… I didn’t know.”
It took me until my eleventh year to realize River Stephens was insane.
It took me seconds to know Theodore Anders was worse.
But when a small hand grabbed my wrist, it took only a fraction of a single breath to know I was sunk.
I halted midstep, my muscles froze, and every molecule of my being tuned in to her single touch. Featherlight, her small fingers held me hostage more than the compound life had kept me prisoner. My body didn’t just react to her touch, my soul reached for her.
A gas station angel.
I turned and met brown eyes I had been dreaming about for months.
Just like last time, I had no words.
And same as last time, it did not matter.
She gifted me a small smile. “My mom makes great food. Please, stay.”
I did not belong here. If it were not for the gas station angel being here, I would have been gone already.
“Wait.” The sister looked between us. “Do you know him, Emily?”
It was not a question. It was an accusation.
Heat colored the angel’s face. “We, um, we….”
“You what?” Theodore demanded.
“Ted.” His wife’s hand went to his arm.
The angel inhaled.
And I waited. Waited to hear what exactly she was going to say.
The angel’s shoulders straightened and she nodded. “Yes, we’ve met. A year ago.” With more boldness than I had ever seen in a female, she pivoted and put her hand on Theodore’s chest, giving him a small shove. “You need to give us a minute.”