Her lashes lift, and a hint of a small smile touches her lips. “If you don’t stop hovering, I might drown you.”
There’s my girl. I press a kiss to her brow, her nose, her mouth. Then I head toward the door.
“Emeric?”
I turn, my pulse singing at the sound of her voice.
She leans her head back on the ledge. “Thank you.”
I doubt she’s thanking me for a specific thing. Her gratefulness is always all-encompassing. Christ, I love this girl.
“I’ll be right back.” I slip out and shut the door.
Shane already has the body wrapped in tarp and duct tape. He sweeps the towel over the wood floors, clearing away any urine or blood, his expression colorless and etched in torment.
I step beside him. “You look like you’ve done this before.”
“Never.”
Fear, shock, revulsion…there are so many overpowering emotions in that whisper, I believe him.
With the body bagged, we haul it down the hall. I leave him at the stairs and return to Ivory.
By the time I dress her, give her the medicine, and tuck her into bed, she’s deep asleep beneath the weight of sedation.
I spot check the wood floors for blood with each pass I make through the room. I’ll do a thorough cleaning later, but to the unassuming eye, there’s no indication a crime was committed here.
I change into a Henley and jeans and find Shane sitting on the top step, staring into space.
“Let’s finish this.” My voice makes him jump.
A few minutes later, the body is loaded in the Honda in the garage.
I hand Shane a shovel. “Where’s Schubert?”
He takes it, his glare digging into the closed trunk of the car. “Shouldn’t we deal with that first?”
“At dusk.” I head toward the hall that leads to the back yard. “We need to talk.”
Outside, the sun slips behind the monolithic tower of my estate, fading the sky into streaks of violet.
Surrounded by oaks and blooming bushes, I set Schubert’s body on the ground and direct Shane to a spot beside the concrete bench in the garden. “Where have you been for the past three months?”
He stabs the shovel through the mulch and starts the hole. “Not in New Orleans.”
If I press, he’ll likely lie about his location. He said he flew in. Maybe that will help the PI track him this time.
I sit on the bench and take in his receding blond hair, pale complexion, and the stupidity emanating from his dull eyes. Hard to believe he’s related to Ivory.
With a deep breath, I rest my elbows on my spread knees. “Tell me how this came about.”
Working the shovel through the dirt, he says quietly, tiredly, “Lorenzo called me yesterday, said he was released—” He stops, glances up at me, hesitating. “He was in jail for burglary.”
He’s either fucking with me or he doesn’t know my involvement in Lorenzo’s arrest. As dumb as he is, I’m leaning toward the latter. That means he didn’t want to mention the burglary conviction for another reason. I can guess why.
He returns to his task. “He called me when he got out, said he lost his apartment and needed fast money.” He shovels more dirt, avoiding my eyes. “I owed him my life, so I offered him a solution and flew home to help him.”
I look up at my estate as the pieces slowly click together. Shane must’ve been following Ivory before he approached her in the parking lot. If so, he already knew where she lives. When he saw me that night and recognized me as the guy who punched him, he figured out our relationship and who she lives with. Our schedule is obvious, so he bet on the assumption we would be at school.
“You came here to rob me.” My hands clench. “How did you get in?”
He pauses then resumes digging. “I guessed her code.”
Fuck. That’s a huge goddamn oversight on my part.
So then what? Lorenzo went in alone while Shane kept watch? She fought him. Somehow the cat was pulled into it. I won’t demand those details from Shane. She’ll give me an honest account when she’s ready.
He stares at the ground, voice tight. “She wasn’t supposed to be here.”
“Except she was. What do you think Lorenzo intended to do to her after he raped her? Would he have left her alive to point him out in a line up after he robbed the place?”
“Oh God.” His head lowers, his fingers wrapped so tightly around the handle of the shovel it has to be cutting circulation.
“Do you know why I punched you that night?”
He glares at the dirt, nostrils flaring.
“She came to school with a busted lip.” I let my disgust clip the words.
His eyes close, face pinched in pain.
I find a sick sort of comfort in his guilt. “A brother is supposed to protect his sister. Stand up to bullies for her. Walk through fucking fire for her.”