Twisted Truths

  “Yes. She was working as a bookkeeper at that time and was around thirty years old.”

  So Franny had taken her in right away, providing love and security. “Was Verna with her yet?” he asked, taking another chunk of bread, needing to know more. The domesticity of the moment dug into him and grabbed hold with warmth. With comfort.

  Noting his bowl was empty, Noni stood and ladled another bowl for him. “Yes. They’ve been together since college. So I got them both right away.” She sat back down and smiled. “For years I couldn’t understand why they couldn’t get married like other parents. But now they can, and they did.” She snorted. “But Franny won’t go on a honeymoon, and Verna is driving her crazy about it.”

  “Why won’t she go?” The woman had seemed like a pistol to him.

  Noni smiled, her expression so full of love it hurt something in his chest. “She’s terrified to fly, and Verna wants to go somewhere warm. Like on an island.”

  “They make drugs for people who are afraid to fly,” Denver said dryly. He admired the women for taking Noni in and giving her a home. That secured his loyalty, for sure.

  “That’s what I told her,” Noni exclaimed. “It’ll happen. Verna is tough when she needs to be.” She cleared her throat. “There’s a chance we might meet up with them, right?”

  He chewed thoughtfully. Not if he could help it. “Maybe.”

  “I should warn you. They call you ‘dickhead.’”

  He barked out a laugh. Two senior citizens called him ‘dickhead.’ “They’re not wrong.” He’d been called a helluva lot worse in his life. They loved Noni, and that’s what mattered. “I won’t get mad at them. I promise.”

  She sipped her wine. “I didn’t think you would. Just didn’t want your feelings hurt if they show up.”

  The statement hit him in the solar plexus. She was worried about his feelings? After what he’d done? Who he was? He swallowed and looked into his second empty bowl. He’d dreamed of meals like this with a woman like her years ago. It was too good to last. “Thank you for dinner. It was excellent.”

  “Not a problem.” She waited until he looked up at her before speaking again. “It’s your turn, Denver. You promised to tell me everything.”

  He hated to leave the comfort of talking about her family. But he’d promised. His chest hurt for a moment. What would she think if he told her everything? It was bizarre, and he was a wanted criminal. Kind of. “I know.” He’d never break a promise to her.

  She breathed out. “Would you like me to sit on your lap while you talk?”

  His head jerked up, and his dick throbbed. “What?”

  She flushed. “Before, when we dated. If I sat on your lap, you relaxed.”

  He hadn’t known she’d figured that out. But of course she had. The woman was highly intelligent and paid attention to him. “You’re right.” He leaned back from the table. He was about to respond when his phone dinged. “Excuse me.” He looked down to see Ryker’s ID, and he answered the call. “I’m a little busy, Ryker.”

  “Open your e-mail and click on a link I just sent to you,” Ryker said without preamble.

  Denver jumped up, hustled into the living room, and sat at one of the computers, following instructions. A website came up with Sheriff Elton Cobb giving a press conference. Denver’s heart slammed against his ribs.

  Cobb stood before a bunch of reporters on the county courthouse steps of his North Carolina jurisdiction, his shoulders wide and his white-blond hair cut short. “I’ve finally solved the mystery of the murders at the Lost Springs Home for Boys,” Cobb said. “Three boys, now men, killed my brother and another boy. We have no idea what names they might be using, but as kids they were called Ryker, Heath, and Denver…and here are their pictures.”

  Denver stiffened.

  Noni hovered at his elbow. “Denver?”

  Pictures of Denver and his brothers flashed across the screen from when they were youths.

  Okay. That wasn’t so bad.

  The cameras returned to Cobb. He smiled, his blue eyes colder than the Arctic. “I’ve traced these men to the Pacific Northwest. They’ve been operating a detective agency called Lost Bastards, and they’ve systematically increased their criminal activities throughout the years. I warn you. They are armed, they are trained, and they are exceptionally dangerous. Here are their current pictures.”

  Three more pictures moved across the screen. These were current, taken by hidden cameras when they’d rescued Zara, Ryker’s fiancée, from Cobb and Madison.

  Denver lifted his phone to his ear. “Looks like Sheriff Cobb finally decided to go public,” he said to Ryker.

  Noni gasped at his side and took a step away from him.

  “We thought he might,” Ryker said grimly. “His fantasy of catching us and torturing us to death seems to have come to an end. He just wants us caught.”

  For years Cobb had remained silent as he hunted them, no doubt looking forward to killing them without any trace. But now that he’d gone public, there would be eyes on them.

  Denver shook his head. “I bet Dr. Madison has other plans, and she has the trained soldiers. Even if Cobb or one of his cop buddies gets us, she’ll figure out a way to take us in. At least I think that’s her plan.”

  She’d never let them go to prison when she could force them to work for her. She no doubt still had many an experiment to conduct as well.

  “Agreed,” Ryker said. “This puts more pressure on us. You get that, right? These pictures are going to every law enforcement agency in the country. There’s nowhere we’ll be able to go and not get recognized.” He sighed and then he went deadly silent. “Fuck,” he snapped.

  Denver leaned back from the monitor as a picture of Ryker’s fiancée was held up by Cobb next. “Zara Remington, a person of interest,” he read. Shit. That would send Ryker over the edge.

  “I’ll kill him. We should’ve already killed him, damn it,” Ryker growled.

  Anya’s picture was next. She had been the ultimate prize for the Copper Killer, a serial killer they’d just taken down, so her face had been on TV screens already. Yet she hadn’t been labeled a person of interest before. Denver shook his head, anger churning down his esophagus. “This is so bad.”

  “Definitely. My phone is blowing up from Montana,” Ryker muttered, his voice shaking with what sounded like fury.

  “It might not be a bad idea to head that way,” Denver said, already typing. The brothers in Montana owned several acres with phenomenal security. “We’re going to need new IDs. And we have to find Cobb, Ry.”

  “Agreed. After this mission to find the baby—” Ryker started.

  Denver started making up new names for them. “No. You guys find Madison and Cobb. I’ll keep on this case, and the second I need help I’ll call. We have to work round the clock now on Cobb. You know it’s true.” His time just shortened to find the baby, because he had to get her safe before he went after Cobb.

  The sound Ryker made came from a deep well of what had to be frustration. “All right. But don’t for a second do this by yourself. Promise.”

  “I promise. This can be fixed.” Denver turned to see Noni standing close to the kitchen, her pupils wide and her face the color of paper. She was frightened.

  He kept her gaze. Not once had he lied to her. Well, recently. He’d admitted he was a killer, but maybe seeing it on television and watching a cop talk about him had changed her mind about him. About trusting him. The idea slammed a fist into his gut. His shoulders straightened.

  Too bad. She’d asked for his help, and it was too late to turn back now. Whether she liked it or not.

  Chapter

  8

  Noni turned into the kitchen and quickly started cleaning up while Denver did whatever people wanted for murder did on computers to make the whole thing go away. All right. She’d known he had a history, and she’d suspected he was wanted by the law. But murder? Even as a kid, he’d murdered somebody. It wasn’t like he’d denied it on
the phone with Ryker.

  No. He’d been more concerned with messing with the Internet. Probably with his dark web or whatever it was.

  The back of her neck hurt, sending a headache right up through her skull. Tension. What should she do? She had to find Talia before Richie hurt or sold or did whatever he was planning with her. The idea of the baby in enemy hands hurt her deep down. She had to save Talia, and she needed Denver’s help.

  But Denver had enemies—dangerous ones—apparently on both sides of the law. What if she got caught in the crossfire of his world and didn’t get the chance to save the baby?

  But could she save Talia without him?

  She finished in the kitchen, her mind spinning. If she got her pack, she could take the truck. It was in the garage. But what then? She truly had no clue. Maybe it was time to go to the FBI, but if she did that, then maybe they’d let Richie keep the baby. Since he was the father, then he had a parental right she’d have to get taken away, which was difficult and took time. If she was going to be Talia’s mother, she had to find the safest path. She set the dishrag on the counter and turned to see Denver leaning against the door frame, watching her.

  When he looked at her like that, with those mysterious blue eyes, a hard knot of pleasure slowly unfolded inside her abdomen. She hated that she reacted like that to him—just from a look. “What?” she asked, her face heating.

  “Make a decision yet?” he drawled, his voice low and gritty.

  That tone. Her nipples peaked, and her breasts felt heavy and full. All of a sudden, her skin seemed too tight. “A decision?” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

  He snorted. “Lose the innocent act. You going to make a run for it or not?”

  Sometimes she forgot how smart he was and how easily he read people. Probably because he’d spent his life watching them instead of interacting. “I’m still working through the plus and minus columns in my head,” she retorted.

  “Ah.” He flashed his teeth in a primal warning. “Let me help. I’m not gonna let you leave.”

  Well, now. That certainly took the debate off the table. She bristled. “You’re willing to add kidnapping to what appears to be already an impressive list of crimes?”

  If she’d meant to shake him or piss him off, she failed.

  “Yes,” he said calmly. “In a heartbeat.”

  Shock froze her in place. “You can’t do that.”

  He laughed, the sound lacking in true humor. “Think you can stop me?”

  No. Her self-defense class in college probably didn’t put her anywhere near his fighting skills, not to mention the fact that he had a hundred pounds of pure muscle on her. “You can’t do this.”

  “I’m not doing anything.” He didn’t move. “But you asked for my help and got me involved. So I’m involved.”

  “You have enough going on,” she spat. “Or did you not see the news conference?”

  He exhaled slowly. “Oh, I saw it. But I also saw what wasn’t there.”

  She frowned. “What?”

  “You and me. The picture of us together that you plastered on the Internet. Cobb hasn’t found it yet. So we’re safe here.” Denver’s chin lowered. “For now.”

  “Did you kill Sheriff Cobb’s brother?” she asked, hating how her voice wavered.

  A muscle visibly twitched beneath Denver’s jaw. “Maybe. I might as well have.”

  “Meaning?” she croaked out.

  He sighed, and his voice cracked. “Ryker and Heath swung bats at his head, and he went down hard. But I’m the one who started the fire to burn the place down, and I’m the reason my brothers went down into that basement. If I could’ve been the one to swing those bats, I would have. In a second.”

  Not one ounce of regret filled his words. Not one. Noni took a step back. “You were just kids.”

  “Yeah, we were. Imagine what would’ve pushed us to that.” His eyes darkened, and his shoulders slumped. “Ned Cobb, the owner of the home, beat us. Badly.” Denver’s hands fisted, and his voice lowered with remembered hurts.

  Noni’s breath caught. “Denver.”

  “That wasn’t all. It wasn’t just the physical pain.” Denver scrubbed a hand through his hair, his eyes lost for a moment. “It was the fear. Any day his aim could be off, and we’d take it to the temple. One of our friends could die at any moment.”

  She ached for him. For the scared child he must’ve been. “I’m sorry.”

  He swallowed. “One night Ned was beating the crap out of me and another kid named Ralph, and he killed Ralph.” Denver’s eyes glazed as he became lost in the past. “Ned was going to blame me, and my brothers ran down into the basement to protect me.”

  Guilt. That was guilt. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  He blinked. “Ned turned on them, and they swung bats. They killed him because of me.”

  She moved to him, grabbing his hands. “Not your fault.”

  He shook his head, coming back into the present. “It was my idea to burn the place down. With the bodies.” He sounded almost dazed now.

  The need to comfort him, the urge to protect him, made her sway. “It’s okay, Denver,” she said calmly, tightening her hold. It was his idea to burn the place down? With the bodies? How terrified he must’ve been.

  He suddenly turned his head. His entire body stiffened, and he pulled away.

  She stilled. “What?”

  “Where’s your gun?” he whispered.

  Adrenaline flooded her. “Which one?”

  “The one I gave to you.”

  She couldn’t breathe. “What’s happening?”

  “Gun?” he asked, more urgently.

  His tone prompted her to move, so she turned and opened the utensil drawer to pull out the shiny weapon. “Here,” she whispered back.

  “Crouch down and point it at the back door,” he said.

  She did so immediately, her heart battering her rib cage. “What’s happening?”

  “I’ll be right back.” Hunching over, he moved into the living room.

  She pointed the gun at the innocuous yellow door, wondering what he’d seen. Or, rather, heard. His senses were so strong as to be supernatural. The blood rushed through her veins, pounding between her ears. Taking several deep breaths, she tried to calm the noise inside. What was out there? All she heard was wind and crackling ice.

  Less than a minute later, he returned with two packs and tossed hers to her along with her boots and her wool coat. His gun was bigger than hers, with a huge clip thingy. “Put those on. Now.”

  She set the gun on the scratched linoleum to slide her arms into her coat and then the straps of her backpack before yanking her boots on. Her hands shaking, she picked up the weapon again. “What’s happening?”

  He shook his head. “I saw three gang members outside, and I don’t know how many more are out there. Keep your head down and move toward the garage. We’ll drive the truck right over the motherfuckers. I’ll go first, and you keep on my six.”

  Six? What in the world was a six? “Okay.” She gulped, feeling way too exposed.

  A loud pattering sound ripped through her plan, and wood went flying. She yelped and ducked low as bullets flew in every direction, smashing into the microwave and all across the kitchen. She cried out. The front window shattered in the other room. Computer monitors blew up with loud bursts. Bullets hit the refrigerator, and the door fell off. Milk exploded. Holes covered the top of the door leading to the backyard.

  She screamed and covered her head.

  Denver grabbed the back of her neck and all but dragged her toward the door to the garage. He opened it and shoved her hard. She tumbled down the two steps and fell against the truck, her shoulder protesting. Before she could right herself, he lifted her by her pack.

  He leaned close, his face a hard mask. “We’ll be okay. Trust me.”

  She gulped.

  He tugged open the truck door. “The gang found us, damn it.”

  Bullets ricocheted from outside the g
arage, pinging against the metal. The front of the truck exploded with a loud hiss. “Fuck,” Denver said, slamming the door. “New plan.” He pulled her around the truck toward an outside door, ducking as he went. “I’ll go first. When I motion for you, follow as fast as you can. Shoot anybody shooting at us.”

  She looked down at the gun in her stiff hand. How could this be happening?

  Denver gingerly opened a rickety door and slid into the darkness. He fired once. Twice. A scream of pain echoed. Then he turned and grabbed her arm to pull her outside. “Run, baby.”

  She launched into motion, following him through the thick snow and making an instant right turn toward a six-foot worn wooden fence. Without stopping his stride, he turned and lifted her with one arm, tossing her right over. Her arms windmilled, and she fell hard, landing on her back in the snow. Rolling, she was on her feet as he dropped next to her.

  Another snow-filled backyard.

  The gunfire continued behind them.

  A gang member with tattoos all over his face came out from behind a tree, his gun lifting.

  Denver pivoted and fired his gun. The bullet hit the man in the middle of the forehead. His eyes opened wide, blood spurted, and then, almost in slow motion, he fell.

  Noni stopped feeling. Not the cold snow covering her, not the fear. Nothing. She stared numbly at the dead body.

  Denver clasped her arm and pulled her farther through the snow and toward the body. She tried to fight him out of pure instinct, but he was relentless. They reached the back fence.

  Sudden silence took over the night.

  He paused. “They’re in the house.”

  She turned, the night surreal, and looked the way they’d come.

  With a smile that scared the hell out of her and took her from her nice place of shock, he pulled a black square box out of his front jeans pocket.

  “What’s—” she started to ask.

  He pushed a red button.

  The entire world exploded. Noni gasped. She was thrown back against the fence, her foot brushing the dead guy. Fire lit the night, and the roof flew off the house she’d just been in. A yell of raw pain screeched toward them.