by Karen Kirst
“That’s right. With Sam gone and now these so-called accidents taking three others, that leaves six of us.” A grim smile tipped his lips. “I don’t want to wait around to see who’s next.”
“Are you close to any of the survivors?”
“We used to meet every so often. We vowed we would all do something important with our lives, a kind of pledge to honor those who died. For a while, we’d get together every year.”
“That’s great.” For years after the accident, she’d longed to connect with someone who had been there with Brett during his last moments. Her parents had all but shut down emotionally after losing their only son. They’d refused to talk about Brett, refused to listen to her memories as she tried to keep him alive.
There’d been no time or patience for their daughter’s tears and grief. Eventually, she’d learned to keep both to herself. Brett lived on because love lived on.
She’d loved her big brother with all her heart and still did. He had been not only her brother but also her best friend. Being two years younger than even the freshmen, she’d had little interaction with them. For the most part, they’d shunned her, treating her as an oddity at best, and, at worst, a pariah, one who skewed the curve with her remarkable mind.
But Brett had always been there, ready to listen when she poured out her loneliness, ready to take on anyone who mistreated her. Not many wanted to mess with one of the school’s star football players, especially one who stood six feet two inches and came in at a hefty 190 pounds.
Normally easygoing, Brett had been fiercely protective of his little sister. Once, when some upperclassmen had backed her against a bank of lockers, calling her “Superbrain,” he’d gotten in their faces and threatened to mop the floor with them. The message had been clear: you want to mess with my little sister, you’ll have to go through me.
No one had ridiculed her again, at least not in Brett’s hearing.
“Yeah. Too bad it didn’t work out.” The rueful tone of his voice told its own story.
“Let me guess. The group met for a few years and then everyone went their own way.”
“Good guess. I still hear from some of them now and then, but everyone is busy with families, jobs. Life.” He lifted a shoulder in a you-know-how-it-is shrug.
“That’s natural.”
Another shrug. “I stay in touch the best I can, but I’m a single parent with a business to run. Any spare time I have is spent with Jonah.”
“You said your son was five? How did he take being sent to his grandparents?”
“He loves them, and they adore him. They couldn’t be happier to have him.”
A smile found purchase on her lips. “Do you have a picture of him?”
“Remember—you asked.” He brought out his phone and scrolled through a couple of pictures. “Never ask a parent if they have pictures of their children. We could spend the next two hours going through them and still not scratch the surface.”
The obvious love for his son warmed her. How cute was it that Liam, a former special ops soldier, like many of S&J’s operatives, could show off pictures of his little boy with unabashed pride and such deep affection that it caused tears to prick her eyes? “You’re a proud father. I get it.”
“Being Jonah’s dad is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. If something were to happen to him...”
The words seemed to have stuck in his throat. To give him time to compose himself, Paige looked away, once again touched by the father’s love for his child.
“And I’m wasting time.” The banter left his tone. “I need help, Paige. Your help.”
“Why me?”
“Because you know the players. Or at least some of them.”
“Correction—I knew the players. They were Brett’s friends. They tolerated me hanging around, but mostly they considered me his bratty little sister, always pestering them. Plus they were three grades ahead of me.”
“And five years older,” he added.
“Don’t remind me.” Her grimace was heartfelt. “Going to high school at twelve was a mistake. My parents tried to tell me, but I insisted that I could handle it. I did all right academically, but I bombed socially. I never fit in. Brett always stood up for me.” She gave a self-deprecatory laugh. “The teachers didn’t know what to make of me, either. It didn’t take long to figure out that I didn’t belong, but I was too proud to admit it.”
“If I remember correctly, you did more than all right academically. You graduated at fifteen with honors, then went on to Ole Miss to study law enforcement. Graduated with honors by the time you were seventeen.”
Surprised and flattered that he knew this, she felt warm color rise to her cheeks and prayed Liam didn’t notice. “How did you know? You were long gone by then.”
“I kept tabs on you.”
She stared at him. She’d never even thought Liam McKenzie knew her first name—she was always Brett’s little sister—and now he told her that he’d kept tabs on her? It was both flattering and disconcerting. She wanted to ask how long he’d kept tabs on her but decided against it.
“Not in some stalkerish way,” he hurried to add. “But your brother died in that accident. I wanted to know how you were doing.”
She didn’t respond immediately. How could she when she had no idea of what to say? She made a point not to look back on those years following the accident. They had passed in a blur of tears on her parents’ part and guilt on her own—guilt that she was alive and Brett wasn’t.
As far back as she could remember, she’d known that Brett was her parents’ favorite. No matter what her accomplishments, she couldn’t compete with the golden boy. For the most part, she’d been okay with it...until he died and she’d witnessed her parents’ marriage slowly die along with him.
She’d attempted to take up the slack, had tried out for sports teams because that’s what Brett had excelled at. Nothing she’d done had been enough, and in the end, she’d quit trying.
“Nothing was ever the same after Brett died,” she said after a long pause. “Our family kept going. Sort of. My parents split up the year I graduated. With Brett gone and me leaving home, there was nothing to keep them together.” She directed a knowing look his way. “What happened wasn’t your fault. You did your best to save the other kids and got out as many as you could.”
“I wish my best had been good enough. For Brett and the others.”
His gaze darkened and locked with hers. Guilt had left a nasty stain upon the boy and the man. She wanted to tell him that guilt never solved anything.
She ought to know, but she couldn’t give advice she’d never taken herself.
* * *
Liam hadn’t made a mistake in coming here and enlisting Paige’s help. She was still the same über-intelligent girl and straight shooter he remembered from high school. The girl who had once been all braces, elbows and knobby knees had grown into a breathtakingly beautiful woman.
Dark red hair, the color of fall leaves, framed a face dominated by high cheekbones and brown eyes with flecks of gold in them. She didn’t try to play up her looks; on the contrary, she wore her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and her face was free of makeup. In his eyes, that made her all the more lovely. The appeal was unconventional and altogether unexpected.
Wow.
That had been his first thought.
His second was that he needed to keep his mind on business. He was a target. More importantly, he was all that Jonah had in the way of parents. His wife had taken off shortly after Jonah had been born and hadn’t looked back. Whatever bitterness he’d once felt toward her had long since vanished. She’d given him the most precious of all gifts: his son.
For several years, he’d blamed himself for her desertion. Now he saw it for what it was: selfishness and insecurity on her part. She’d never wanted to be a mother, never wanted the wh
ole family thing that had been his dream—a white picket fence and a big sloppy dog. His success with his software company had been the draw. If he hadn’t been so caught up in his dream of home and family, he’d have seen that she was more interested in his money than in him.
He put aside any attraction he felt for Paige. He wasn’t going down that route again. The only thing he needed from her was to keep him and Jonah safe.
He felt like he’d traveled back in time. He’d spent the last fifteen years trying to forget, and now it was back. With a vengeance. Sometimes it was just too much trouble to keep the memories stored away where they couldn’t hurt him. Sometimes it was best to let them have their way. It looked like this was going to be one of those times.
“Where do you want to start?” he asked.
“Back in Willow Springs. With the families of the kids who died. I’m assuming you have a list.”
He opened his backpack, pulled out a tablet and showed her the list he’d compiled of kids who had died in the accident, their families, addresses and anything else he thought important.
She glanced at it. “Got it.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.” She tapped her temple. “Photographic memory.”
“Must come in handy.”
She flashed a grin. “Sometimes.”
He shouldn’t have been amazed, but she’d managed to surprise him all the same. “Any other superpowers you want to share with me?”
“I can’t leap over buildings in a single bound yet, but I haven’t ruled it out.”
“Let me know when you take your first leap.”
“You’ll be the first to know.”
In the parking lot, Liam pointed to his car, a navy Suburban. “I’ll drive.”
“Okay by me.”
Liam pointed the car toward Willow Springs. He hadn’t been back to his hometown since graduating from high school. When his parents had relocated to Savannah, there’d been no reason to return and plenty of reasons not to.
The trip took longer than it should have due to construction and detours. One detour took them deep into the country, where rolling hills and valleys replaced city streets and highways.
As they approached a particularly steep canyon, Liam applied the brakes. Nothing. He repeated the process, then pulled the emergency brake. Same result. He shifted the car into a different gear with the same result. Not only were the brakes out, the steering was gone, as well.
“What’s happening?” Paige’s voice was calm, though he heard the tension underlying the words.
“I don’t have control of the car. I think someone’s hacked into the operating system and taken it over.” Liam did a quick scan of options, none of which he liked. “We have one shot at surviving. And it’s a long one. When the car goes over the edge at the next curve—and it’s going to—we have to jump. Tuck your head inside your arms and jump.”
“Jump? You’re kidding. Right?”
“I wish I were.” He loosened his muscles and undid his seat belt. “Now!”
Copyright © 2021 by Jane M. Choate
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ISBN-13: 9781488072314
Targeted for Revenge
Copyright © 2021 by Karen Vyskocil
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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