Dirty Sexy Secret (Green County Book 1) (22 page)

I wonder if that will be the end of it. But I know. It’s not.

Because secrets. They’re everywhere.

And they’ll come to light.

I
’m waiting for it.

Sitting in a booth at Mama’s. My phone is going off, alive with texts and fury from my brother and Archer.

The story is bouncing out, further than just our little County. Jase is doing what he can, making it spread.

The text doesn’t surprise me. Not really.

Unkown: Meet us at the Black Prism. Bring the cops.

Some of my tension eases. Mama Nora is standing near the table and I shiver under her hard stare. “You okay, Hazy Girl?”

I remember when she first called me that. I was thirteen, and still closed off. Still refused to get close to anyone but Eli. Still lost in my own mind and my books, more than present here.

She said when I looked at the world, I looked through a haze. Smiled, so full of affection and warmth that it hurt, to see. Called me Hazy Girl, and it stuck.

I smile, and blink away the memory. “Yeah, Mama. I’m okay.”

She doesn’t push me, just gives me a worried sort of look, and backs away, going to fill coffee for someone else.

I look at the phone again.

Hazel: Meet me at Mama’s. Hurry.

They hate it.

Both of them.

In the end, it doesn’t matter. We aren’t playing by Archer and Eli’s rules. Not this time. The strings are still being pulled by Michael and Hanna.

So we go.

All three of us, together, and I will never tell them, but it feels right. Being together, like this, even with the uncertainty and danger. It feels right.

T
hree killers, two cops, and a journalist walk into a bar.

Sounds like a bad joke, right? It’s not.

It’s the end--dear god I hope it’s the end--of the worst day if my life.

I just hope we all walk out alive.

T
he Black Prism isn’t a bar. Not really. It’s a club, and it belongs to Seamus King.

Slimy bastard. Eli and I have been watching him for years, but there’s never been anything we could actually pin on him.

Somehow I don’t think that today will change that. The Prism isn’t being offered up so King can bare his neck for the GCPD.

“Eli,” I murmur, and he nods, pulling Hazel close. She huffs her displeasure but doesn’t argue as I walk deeper into the empty club.

“Drink, gentlemen?”

I suck in a breath as I see King behind the bar. He’s got a cocky sort of smile on his lips. Like this is a grand adventure and a big joke.

Like he knows damn well that whatever happens, he’s walking out of here.

“Where are they?” Hazel demands, leaning forward.

“Patience, darling. You’ve done beautifully.”

“
King!”

The voice is like a nightmare. Shrill and taunting and furious, and so fucking familiar. Eli makes a low noise, all rage and hurt and I step toward my brother, catching his eye. King lifts a hand, and I realize something.

We’re still in the shadows. Deep in the shadows, where it is too easy for us to be overlooked.

Hazel realizes it too, at the same instance, and her gasp is only just barely muffled.

We aren’t here to participate.

We’re observers.

Scarlett Materson stalks from a long hall at the back of the bar. She looks the same as she’s always looked—small, and beautiful and dark. Dark brown hair pulled up into a tight pony tail. Tight black pants and a red top that highlights all her best features.

And she’s furious.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she demands, and King gives her a bland look. “You said you’d control the McGreys. That they wouldn’t be a problem for Morningstar.”

“I did,” King says agreeably.

“Then what the actual
fuck
is this?”

She throws down a tablet, and I feel Hazel give this little twitch, a smirk turning her lips.

“That, Scarlett, looks like an expose.”

“How the fuck do you consider this
controlling them?”

“Calm down,” a deep male voice orders, and Hazel shivers. Scarlett stops, abruptly, like a puppet with cut strings.

Rusty Watson looks different than the last time I saw him. Less wrecked. There is grief, in those dark eyes of his. A set of world-weary and defeated to his shoulders that I’d bet was new.

But he doesn’t look like he’s one strong word away from falling apart.

We really should have talked to Crystal’s father.

“King.”

“You expect me to control them when your tortured their fucking
sister?”
King snarls. “You’ve met John, haven’t you? The boy is an animal. And Michael let him off leash—for what
you
did. Don’t blame me if that mess lands on you.”

There’s a moment of utter silence, and then Rusty snarls and lunges forward. “That was my
family,
you bastard!” he roars.

“Calm down,” Scarlett shouts, throwing herself into Rusty and knocking him away from King.

“I told you when you attacked her, that there would be consequences. You should have left them the fuck alone,” King spits.

“I’m going to kill them,” Rusty says, softly, almost to himself and Scarlett sighs. “There’s no fucking way I’m letting those bastards kill my family like that, and—”

“We didn’t kill them all,” Michael says.

The reaction is instant. Rusty’s pulled a gun and trained it on Michael before the words die. Fury rippling through him.

How the fuck did I think that the grief stricken father was anything other than a threat? How did I buy into that fucking act?

“You’re a stupid bastard, coming here,” Rusty breathes.

Michael spreads his hands, and shrugs. “Maybe. Or maybe, if my brother doesn’t hear from me in the next fifteen minutes, he kills the kid. Maybe, if my sister doesn’t hear from me, she sends every file and document we’ve ever copied from Naomi to the cops.” He stills. “Maybe I am stupid. But I’m not so stupid that you’ll shoot me here and not feel the consequences.”

“And maybe I don’t give a fuck.” Rusty spits, stepping forward.

Michael laughs. “You should have left us alone. That’s all we wanted.”

“You wanted to ruin her,” Scarlett snarls and Michael turns his gaze on the girl who destroyed my brother, once.

“No, we didn’t. But Hanna does want to take everything from her.”

The words stutter. Catch. Rusty’s face twitches into confusion and I hear Eli’s snarled curse, hear Hazel gasping his name. But it’s all distant.

So fucking far away.

The only thing that makes sense, that makes it through the haze of confusion, is the gun.

Michael’s hand, filled with the black metal of the gun, and Scarlett’s eyes, so wide and startled.

The echoing report of it, and she makes a noise. Something like a gasp, all wet and stunned and pained.

Eli howls, a noise that is too full of loss to make any kind of sense.

Nothing makes sense.

Not a fucking thing about this town.

“GCPD!” I shout, yanking out my gun and stepping forward. Michael is smiling, folding to his knees, a content little thing. He’s dropped his gun, and his hands are behind his head.

He knew. He knew this would be how it ended. That it would always end like this.

Eli is crouched next to Scarlett, and she’s gasping for breath, blood pouring from the bullet wound in her chest. Her eyes are wide and cloudy with pain, but she smiles.

The bitch touches his face, with bloody fingers, and she
smiles
as she dies.

“Archer,” Hazel says, urgently. “Where the fuck is Gabe?”

“I keep my promises, Hazel,” Michael. “King made sure we always kept our promises. Go home.”

He smiles at her, then, and I want to punch him. Want to drag my brother away from the whore on the ground.

Rusty is gone.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, and then he goes limp and silent. Patient and secretive as I call in the arrest.

I
t takes a few weeks, for things to settle. The County is anxious and on edge after the spree of killing, and with Rusty Watson still on the loose.

I hear more than most of the public. Having a brother on the case helps.

So I hear, before it hits the papers, that Michael is dead. Poison in his cell.

They find John and Hanna a few days later, on the sprawling farm they grew up in.

It was the plan, from the very beginning. There was no happy ending for them. They were too—everything. Too volatile, too dangerous, too, too, too.

Some of the public distrust and nerves settled, after that.

But it’s going to take time. Especially since we know that Morningstar is still out there. Still seething, like a silent secret, under the surface of the County.

It’s been two weeks but things are finally settling into a normal. For us, that means this. Finally.

We’re having family dinner, because Nora pitched a fit.

And that is a whole different nervous-making ball of worms.

She’s in my kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the side dishes. I can hear Archer and Eli arguing over the chicken Archer is grilling. It strings a smile across my lips, and some of the tension in my chest eases.

“When were you planning on telling me?”

I pause and look at her. She’s sprinkling cheese on the pasta salad and I have no clue what she’s talking about.

“C’mon, Hazel. You don’t think I raised you and him and somehow managed to miss that the two of you have been in love since you were fourteen.”

I pale and she laughs. “You knew?”

“Of course I knew. Why the hell do you think I gave you and him so much space? You and Archer are perfect for each other and always have been because you allow yourself to be there for each other. You’ve been working together like an old married couple since you were old enough to care about boys. I never thought you’d be stupid enough to run away from him.”

She cocks her head at me, her gaze fierce but loving.

Demanding and understanding. All the things Nora has always been. “You two can destroy each other. Or you can be the best thing that’s ever happened to either of you. Don’t run from that.”

“It scares me,” I say, quietly.