Accidental Shield (Marriage Mistake #6)(99)

For the next half hour, I help get Ray cleaned up and bandaged.

“He’s going to be fine,” Cash tells me quietly as he closes his leather bag. “We should still have him seen, though I don’t believe he’s in any immediate danger. His prognosis isn’t quite as dreadful as I’d feared.”

I’m concerned for Ray, but doubly terrified at Flint going to the office by himself. “Okay. I guess you’d better go now.”

“Go?” He cocks his head.

“Flint said you’d be following him to the office to help, right?” Suddenly recalling the fingerprint reader, I run to the kitchen. “He needs Ray’s fingerprints.”

“Flint already got Ray’s prints, Valerie. First thing we did as soon as I had him stable,” Cash says, running a hand through his hair. “I told him I’d stay here with you.”

A dense knot in the pit of my stomach says something is about to happen. Something awful.

“Flint needs your help,” I say. “I don’t. I can take care of Ray and look after him. We’re safe here, I’m sure he has guys outside watching this place. Flint’s all alone.”

Cash pulls out his phone and dials a number. I can hear it ringing before it goes to voicemail. My heart claws its way to my throat as the doctor’s emerald-green gaze meets mine.

“He’s not answering,” Cash growls, slapping the phone down against his thigh. “Dammit.”

I’m trembling. “Then you need to go, Cash. Now!”

He glances around, unsure what to do. “Nonsense. I told Flint I’d stay here with you and—”

“Go!” I yell, jerking forward, digging my hands into his shoulders. “He needs your help.”

“Fuck.” Cash stiffens, moves several steps down the hall, then stops and points at me. “One condition. You’ll stay inside. Keep all the doors locked. Call Davis the second anything strange happens.”

Then he rushes out the door. I press the back of my hand against my mouth, holding in a panicked sob.

That dread knot in my stomach grows harder, stronger. It’s sickening.

I spin at the sound of a moan and hurry to the couch where Ray tries sitting up. “Ray, no. Don’t get up. Just rest.”

“Val? Valerie?” His eyes are narrow strips as he looks at me. “Is that...really you?”

“Nah, it’s Taylor Swift,” I tell him, remembering how much her songs annoy him. I put a hand on his shoulder as he blinks in confusion. “It’s me. Lie back down.”

“No, I...no!” He drags his legs off the couch and flops up, groggy and wincing. “You don’t...they know, Val. I...I tried. But...they fucking know.”

I can barely understand him as he slurs his words in this eerie whisper.

That scares me almost as much as what I think he’s trying to say.

“They know what?” I sit down beside him.

He hangs his head. “Proof.”

“Proof? What proof, Ray? Proof about what?” I’m frantic.

“Dad.” He slumps against me.

“Ray?” I shake him, lightly so I don’t do more damage. “Ray!”

He lifts his head, drawing a deep, rattling breath, trying to regain strength.

“Go,” he mumbles. “You, danger. Your boyfriend. They know.”

My spinning mind locks up. “Boyfriend? Flint. They know about Flint?”

“Yes.” It’s barely a whisper on his split lip.

For the next minute I’m just staring, shaking, making a mental list of all the vital things I need to do.

Then the house goes dark. Every single light. Even the clock on the microwave winks out, and so does the panel light on the wall. The security system panel.

Oh, no.

The door to the lanai slides open with a soft whoosh.

I want to believe it’s Flint, or Cash, or Davis walking in, but it’s already too late.

Savanny is hissing and growling.





18





When Canaries Sing (Flint)





The lack of security makes me wonder even more about Ray and exactly what he’s dealing with, and why.

A business of this caliber with an entire room full of dark secrets should have more security. Not just a twenty year old kid up front, who’s so glued to his phone he doesn’t even watch the main lot.

Val was right. All I’d needed was the code for the back door.

She’s been right about other things too. Little things about the house, about Bryce.

She was only wrong about Bali. Yes, I’d told the others it wasn’t their fault. It was mine.

I was the team leader, so the burden fell on my shoulders alone.

But none of this shit with King Heron is her fault.

And if I can prove it, maybe I’ll start seeing something different with my situation, too.

The green light flashing pulls my attention back to where it’s needed. The light indicates the reader just accepted the fingerprint I’d held against the screen.

I hold my breath, opening the door, shining my flashlight in.

What the hell? It looks like a tiny situation room. Pictures tacked on the walls, file cabinets, shelves, boxes. I move closer, and recognize Joel Cornaro as the man in several photos.