Buried (Bone Secrets, #3)(89)

“Fuck no, we came to talk to the senator. He’s staying here with his brother. Michael went up, and I was waiting in the car when I heard your thumps from the trunk.”

Jamie clung to Chris. “We’ve got to warn him. What will happen—”

“We’re getting the hell out of here. I won’t let him near Brian.”

“We’ve got to get Michael—”

“I won’t leave my brother. I’m going up there first.”

Jamie couldn’t speak for two seconds. She stared at Chris, her fingers digging into his arms. “What did you just say?”

Chris met her gaze. “Michael is my brother.”

Her world tipped and shattered. Jamie lost the feeling in her legs and started to collapse. Chris held on and kept her upright.

“I had to do it,” he said. Hazel eyes the same shape as Michael’s green ones stared at her, pleading with her to understand.

Images bombarded her. Images of Chris, images of Michael.

She understood. She didn’t know why, but she understood, and all that mattered was that he was safe and here now. The why could come later. She nodded, and relief passed over his eyes.

“I’ll explain everything later. Can you drive?”

Jamie tried to take a step, but numbness prevailed in her feet. “No.”

“Okay. Get in the backseat.” He shook her shoulders to get her to look at him. “I’m leaving you to watch Brian. I’ve never left him with anyone. Do you understand?” His eyes were deadly serious. Jamie could only nod; the magnitude of what Chris was entrusting her with was overwhelming.

“I want you guys to get down on the floor of Michael’s SUV and stay there until we come back. Okay?”

Jamie started to shake. “You can’t go up there. You can’t let him see you.”

“Daddy?” Brian’s shrill voice reflected Jamie’s fears.

“It’s okay, Brian. Jamie is going to stay with you. I’ll be right back with Michael.”

Brian peeked out of the SUV. Jamie’s heart melted.

“Brian, this is your aunt Jamie who I told you about.”

The solemn face nodded at her, his eyes scared.

“Hey, Brian.” Jamie soaked up the sight of the little boy. There was so much of both Chris and Michael in his face. She let the tears flow.

Concern crossed Brian’s face. “Is she hurt?”

“She’s a little banged up. And tired and scared.” Chris helped Jamie into the back of the Range Rover. “Take good care of your auntie. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Chris!” Jamie stopped the car door as he started to slam it shut. He stared at her.

“You’ve got to be careful. He’s dangerous.” She whispered the last word, mindful of little ears.

“I’m good.” He reached into a deep pocket in his cargo shorts and showed her the butt of a gun.

Jamie gasped. “What are you—where did you get that?”

“This one is Michael’s. I found it in his console when I got the tool to cut your bindings. I have my own, too.” He patted a bulge at the side of his waist. “We were both boy scouts at one time, you know. We believe in always being prepared.”

“I didn’t know,” she whispered. And she hadn’t known that fact. There was a hell of a lot about Michael Brody that she didn’t know. And Chris.

“He’s not armed. He’s up there with that man, and he isn’t armed.” Terror climbed up her spine.

Chris nodded, determination on his face. He dug into his other pocket and handed her his cell. “Call the police. I need to go.” He looked at Brian, and Jamie’s heart cracked at the love for the boy on his face. “Love you, buddy. I’ll be right back.” He slammed the truck door. Jamie listened to his running footsteps fade away.

Jamie crouched on the floor, dialed 911, and forced a smile at her nephew. “Why don’t you get down on the other side, and I’ll tell you about your dad when he was a boy as soon as I’m done on the phone.” Her neck, ankles, and wrists were in some serious pain. And her brother just ran off to meet a killer. Not just any killer, but the killer from his nightmares.

Please be careful, Chris.

Brian cautiously moved off the seat to the floor, his serious eyes studying her. She tried to get comfortable, stretching out her legs and rubbing at her wrists.

And bring back Michael in one piece.



Michael jogged up the stairs from the parking garage. There was an elevator, but the governor only used it for hauling awkward items into the home. He strode through a few halls, heading toward the kitchen, feeling a bit like an intruder but not too bad. He’d had the run of the house since Uncle Phil had been elected to office years ago. He’d spent a full two months living here during the summer of his uncle’s first term while he did some investigative pieces on a bill in the Senate.

He needed to wake up his uncle and father. He inhaled deeply, smelling coffee. Someone was already up.

Coffee before anything.

He suddenly felt his exhaustion and rubbed at his eyes. The effects of driving all night and his stress over Jamie were about to catch up with him in a bad way. Coffee held a promise of making everything better. He pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen. Empty. Except for a steaming coffeemaker. Michael grabbed the pot, noticing it was half full. Someone had been caffeinating already. He’d fill a cup and head upstairs. He poured the steaming liquid into a cup. Now if only the police would call and say they’d spotted the car the tattooed man was driving. If they could just get their hands on him. Maybe—