Page 25 of Redemption
Stunned into silence, I follow another man’s orders for the first time in decades as the familiar sound of wailing sirens greets my ears.
“Fuck.” I bolt into the mausoleum, grab V’s urn, and run to the SUV.
I slam the door as he shifts into drive, and at a sedate pace, we make our way out of the cemetery and turn onto the main road. As we blend into traffic, the black-and-whites light up the cemetery entrance with their red and blue bubbles as they block the road we just exited.
“Who the fuck are you?” I ask, jerking my gaze to the man beside me.
A smile curls his lips. “Your big brother. Glad I could finally be of service.”
Chapter Eleven
Keira
My phone rings, and I lunge for it. Lachlan. I pick up immediately.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, but there’s been a change in plans.” The tone of his voice is cryptic, and my heart leaps into a galloping beat.
“What kind of change in plans? I don’t like changes in plans.”
“There was an unexpected guest at the service who now requires my attention.”
I force myself to take a slow, deep breath. This is not my first rodeo. I will not freak out. I am Keira Mount. This is my life, and I can handle it. “Please tell me that doesn’t mean what I think it means.”
“I didn’t get hit.”
Hell. It does mean what I think it means.
“I really, really, really hate when people try to kill you. I am not okay with this.”
“Hellion—”
The argument we had this morning about Lachlan wearing a bulletproof vest to the funeral pops into my head. “And you didn’t think you needed a vest today. Aren’t you glad I made you wear it? This is not okay, Lachlan.”
“You’re brilliant as well as a goddess among women, my love. I’m okay. Everything’s fine. Don’t worry about me. Thankfully, he was a terrible shot. Really, an embarrassment to shooters everywhere. But that also means I won’t be home as quickly as I promised you.”
“Lachlan …”
He sighs heavily over the phone. “I know I made you a promise, and I will keep the part where I said I will come home safely.”
“I don’t want to be a widow, and our daughter needs a father.”
“I know that. I have help with me. I’m not alone. Everything’s fine.”
“Who?”
This was another part of our argument this morning. Lachlan going by himself. I couldn’t believe it. He would never normally do such a thing, but nothing has been normal this week. Nothing.
“A familiar face,” is all he says, and it finally clicks that the shooter who tried to kill him might be listening to our conversation as well.
I choose my words carefully, just in case.
“You’re not serious. He’s there? The guy from yesterday?”
I can’t for one second imagine the man with the perfectly tailored Italian suit, who looks exactly like my husband, is helping with whatever Mount is about to do to the man who tried to kill him. Because this will be Mount doing whatever he’s going to do. I can’t think of him as Lachlan when I know blood will be spilled. Compartmentalization is something I’ve become highly skilled at since I entered his world. Healthy or not, it’s how I handle this crazy life that I call mine.
“Yes, and he’s been very helpful.”
