Reeves turned Lucas in.

  His fingers clench around my wrists, holding them behind my back, and I grit my teeth, trying to free myself.

  “I tried to talk myself out of hurting you.” His whisper falls over my lips, the stench of his sweat making me nauseous. “You have a lot of cumbersome relatives.”

  He laughs and opens his mouth, like he’s going to kiss me.

  “But I think I will,” he says. “Hurt you, I mean. Lucas will never be able to forget me then.”

  I hold back my tremble.

  “Get in the car nicely, Miss Caruthers,” he tells me, “and I won’t slit your throat when I’m done.” A sickly smile curls his mouth. “But you might want me to by then.”

  I growl, dropping like dead weight—just like my brothers taught me—and slip through his hold as I fall to the porch.

  I scramble, jumping down the steps. My knife is in the car.

  But he grabs my hair, yanking me back. I twist around and spit in his face and he shoves me away. “Right here, then,” he taunts, pulling off his jacket.

  His threat makes me whimper, my heart in my throat, and I look everywhere for any sign of help. I scream, he comes in to kiss me, and I bite his cheek.

  We push away from each other, and I know he’s about to hit me. Send me flying to the ground, half-unconscious, and God help me then. Run, I tell myself.

  But I don’t have a chance.

  Something fast and dark sweeps in between us, and the next thing I know, blood is spurting from Drew’s neck. His eyes go wild, and he reaches for me as he holds his wound with the other hand, blood spilling over his fingers.

  My mouth sits open, short, shallow gasps coming in as I watch the scene in front of me unfold.

  Lucas’s enemy—the cause of his pain and separation from everyone he loves—plummets to the wet grass, and I jump back.

  What the hell? A pool of red spills out around him.

  I can’t move for a second. What…what…

  What do I do?

  What happened? I—

  But the figure still stands to my left, watching Drew fade along with me, and I don’t know if I’m safe.

  Wet hair spills out of her sweatshirt hood, the rest of the woman clad in jeans and sneakers.

  Her eyes lift to me, but only for a second.

  My chest caves. The eyes…

  And as fast as an apparition, she’s gone. Running off the porch, past my car and Drew’s, and disappearing into the woods.

  Horns honk and new headlights speed up on me from beyond the trees, but still, I watch the forest and the black void where she vanished. “Winslet?”

  The nerves under my skin fire like little embers.

  Lowering my eyes, I see Drew Reeves’s hand laying lax against his neck, blood staining his fingers and eyes gazing up at nothing with his mouth hanging open.

  “Quinn!” someone shouts.

  My stomach churns, the walls closing in…

  They shake me. “Quinn!”

  I snap my head up, meeting Dylan’s eyes.

  “Are you okay?” she asks, then drops her gaze, seeing Reeves. “Oh my God.”

  I stare down at him again.

  She had been so fast. Winslet. No hesitation.

  “Quinn?” Dylan shouts. “Are you hurt at all?”

  I can’t take my eyes off the body. What would’ve happened if Winslet hadn’t showed up? Dylan and the boys would’ve come along quickly enough. Farrow rightly suspected that we tracked each other’s phones and called her. Reeves might’ve killed me instantly. Or shoved me in the car and drove away to who-knows-where. He could’ve hurt one of them if Winslet wasn’t here.

  I breathe hard. “I didn’t…”

  Hunter runs up to us, gaping at the body at our feet. “Holy shit, Quinn.”

  I don’t blink. “It wasn’t me.”

  It was her.

  Lucas

  A shout fills my ears. “Barry!”

  I turn my head toward the hallway. Phones ring, voices are elevated, and shoes squeak against the floor as people move speedily up and down the hallway.

  An officer named Heisler picks up the phone, listens, and then hangs up. Bolting out of his seat, he holsters his gun and starts to leave.

  “What the hell is going on?” I ask, walking up to my bars.

  “Officer Reeves—” Heisler tells the other cop. “Drew Reeves, I mean. He’s been killed.”

  The other officer bolts out of his seat, but I freeze, watching them scramble to the door and swing it open.

  What?

  I grab the bars in my fists. “Who did it?” I shout.

  Where’s Quinn? Is she okay?

  “Don’t know,” Heisler calls back.

  And he disappears out the door.

  “Good riddance to that son of a bitch,” the other officer spits out as he secures his belt around his waist and follows.

  “Wait!” I call.

  But no one comes back. I need to call Quinn. I need a phone!

  My heart thumps, and I yank on the bars. I can’t be sure this has anything to do with her or the rest of my family, but it’s too convenient. I get arrested two hours before he dies? He had to know I was taken into custody. Did he go after her?

  Or was it Green Street?

  I pace across the empty cell, the commotion outside quieting down. Cruisers race off, their sirens fading away.

  Please let her be all right. Please…

  Please let them all be safe. Reeves could’ve gone after anyone to hurt me, not just Quinn. What about Madoc?

  I can’t stop the dread piling in my stomach.

  The door to the room opens again, and Madoc walks in, still dressed in a light blue shirt with a black suit. The tie is gone now.

  I rush to the bars as he closes the door. “Is Quinn safe?”

  He slides a hand into his pocket, clutching his phone with the other. “She’s fine,” he tells me. “A little shaken up, but unharmed.”

  “What happened?”

  “Reeves went after her.”

  I clench my fists around the cell bars. “What?”

  “She’s okay,” he assures me. “She’ll tell you the rest. She’s outside.”

  Exhaling, I drop my gaze. Thank God.

  Madoc approaches me and stops barely a foot away. “Witnesses came forward and corroborated the story you told Quinn.”

  Witnesses?

  The guys on the banks of the river that night. Reeves’s crew.

  Realization dawns. They work for Farrow now.

  “You’re blameless in the death of David Miller,” he says. “My office feels that your hesitance to come forward was…understandable given the threat from inside our law enforcement.”

  He keeps his voice low, but there’s something else in his tone.

  He’s guarded, like he’s not sure how to handle me.

  I must seem like a stranger to him now.

  It takes a moment, but I clear my throat. “If you don’t prosecute,” I point out, “the town will see it as favoritism.”

  “I agree.” He sighs. “If you’re amenable to community service, then it’s settled. You’re free to go.”

  Pulling keys out of his pocket, he unlocks the cell, and we both open the door.

  Standing in front of him, I wait for some signal. I don’t want to just walk out, because right now, we don’t feel okay.

  His mouth opens, closes, then opens again. “I have never not been proud of you.” He lifts his eyes. “Between Jared, Jax, and me, we’ve done worse and more.”

  Maybe. It didn’t feel the same, though.

  “I lost Hunter for a while,” he tells me, “and then you…”

  I had no idea he’d had trouble with the twins.

  And with me abandoning him, he must’ve thought he was doing something wrong.

  He almost whispers, “I’m sorry that you didn’t feel like you could fall.”

  I shake my head. “It was nothing you did.”

  He hugs me, and I feel my chest about to burst.

  “Do you understand now?” He pulls back, looking at me. “The only thing that doesn’t make you a man is not getting back up.”

  “I know that now.”

  “When I was sixteen, you were my little brother,” he muses. “I wanted us both to forget our problems and only have fun, like The Lost Boys. But we became family, and I was prepared for it all because Fallon and I love you.”

  I want to tell him I love him, too, but my throat swells, and I can’t talk.

  “Don’t ever do that again, okay?” he teases.

  I chuckle. “Never again,” I breathe out.

  We start for the door, and I didn’t realize how much I had weighing on my shoulders. Drew is gone. Green Street is Farrow’s. Quinn is mine, and her brothers know.

  I’m home.

  I take the door, holding it open. “So does this community service afford time for me to get a job?”

  I have money, but I can’t ask her father to trust me if I don’t have a steady paycheck.

  But Madoc’s reply comes quickly. “Nope. Sorry,” he says. “The community service will be extensive, I’m afraid.” He leads the way out into the police station. “Weston needs a lot of help. Repairs and restoration, infrastructure re-established, fundraising, and they need to hire at least one cop, I think.”

  “That’s a lot for one person to handle,” I retort.

  Is he serious? That’s a full-time job.

  He tosses a glance back at me. “It’s a mayor’s job.”

  I stop dead. “What?”

  He turns with a smile and holds out his hand. I take it, still processing. “Congratulations,” he tells me. “You’ll serve as provisional until the regular election, and then run for a four-year term.”

  My face falls. “Madoc…”

  Whipping back around, he starts to leave. “It’s not a discussion.”

  I chase after him. “I’m not even a resident!”

  “Something tells me you’re going to be there every night anyway.”

  I catch Quinn as she leaps into my arms. Everyone stands around, but I only take count of Fallon and Juliet before Quinn is on me. Lost in her kisses and her scent, I almost don’t feel the burn of Jared’s glare, which I have no doubt is boring a hole into my skull.

  I touch her and look her up and down, making sure I don’t see a scratch. Kissing her forehead, her temple, and then her hair, I pull her into a hug.

  I’ll hear about everything as soon as we’re alone. I just can’t stop holding her.

  Someone steps up to our side. “You shouldn’t have given Green Street to Farrow,” Aro tells me under her breath.

  Quinn turns toward her, but I don’t let go.

  I explain, “Hugo would’ve just taken the club and moved it somewhere else—”

  “Farrow has no interest in turning Green Street into a legitimate business,” she fires back, glancing between us both. “You don’t know him as well as you think. Neither of you do.”

  And conscious of listening ears, she takes her leave, walking out of the police station.

  I never specified terms to Farrow, but he knows what my position is and… He’s practically family. He’ll try to cooperate.

  Fallon comes over, we hug, and I try not to be hyperaware of knowing Farrow’s relationship to her that she’s completely oblivious to. She needs to be told.

  Madoc wants everyone at his house to decompress—root beer floats for the kids, martinis for the adults—but I can’t talk to any more people tonight.

  Except one.

  Pulling Quinn by the hand, I lead her outside, to her car, and we head home. To Weston.

  I pull up in front of her place on Knock Hill and look up at the old brownstone, my mind exploding with renovation ideas even as I process the details she fills me in on of what happened tonight after I was arrested.

  She pries my fingers off her thigh, and I didn’t realize I was squeezing.

  He almost hurt her.

  Fucking God. I’m glad he’s dead.

  We stay in the Jeep, on the street, kissing for a long time. When I can’t take it anymore, I open her door and help her out of the car, and we walk up the steps.

  “So…you raced a car?” I tease, trying to take her mind off everything she saw tonight.

  She beams. “Well, I never said I couldn’t.”

  Yeah, it’s in the blood.

  We stop at the door, and I take hold of her again. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

  Her gaze softens on me. “You will be next time.” Hesitating, she asks, “Right?”

  I pick her up, guiding her legs around my body. “Every time.”

  Taking her keys from her hand, I unlock the door as her mouth covers mine. She kisses me again and again, moving to my face and my eyes. “I love you.”

  “I love you too,” I tell her, slamming the door and locking it. “But we’re going to need a bigger bed.”

  I can’t sleep in that single.

  Well, I can tonight. We won’t be sleeping much anyway.

  But she eyes me, feigning confusion as if she doesn’t know what I’m getting at. “We?”

  Yes. We. It’s our room, our bed…

  But still, I ask, “Do you mind?”

  I need to be a resident of Weston. And Madoc already seems to know exactly what’s about to happen and is good with it.

  She wraps her arms around my neck and brushes her nose against my cheek. “I’ve waited long enough for you.”

  And I’ve waited long enough to start living.

  I just hold her in the foyer, and I start rocking us side to side to whatever music is coming from Farrow’s place. All the dreams I have come flooding back, and my heart is pumping so hard with excitement to get started. Making this house a home for her and getting this town functional and productive again.

  Bustling businesses, lights, thriving families. Enough to keep me busy for the rest of my life.

  I’m about to walk her upstairs, but her phone rings.

  “Better check it,” I tell her, my voice gravelly with desire.

  A lot happened tonight. People will need to talk to us again.

  But she looks at her phone, her face falling as if she recognizes the number.

  Looking to me, she swipes the screen before I can see who’s calling.

  She puts it on speaker. “Deacon?”

  Deacon? I stare at the screen, memorizing the number for Jax to trace.

  “He’s indisposed right now,” another man replies. “But I saw that he called you, Quinn.”

  Quinn and I exchange looks as she holds up the phone between us.

  “Manas?” she guesses.

  “Yes,” he replies. “Is Lucas with you?”

  I take the phone, hesitating a moment. “Thank you for the help earlier.” He has to be close, probably still in town. “But why?”

  We’re not family. He doesn’t know me. He’s going to want something for coming to my aid.

  When he doesn’t reply, I press harder. “Why do I feel like we’re game pieces you’re moving around?”

  “That’s not my intention.” He takes a sip of something, maybe coffee. “I would’ve preferred Hawke never find the tower, and Quinn and Dylan never sleep in that house, but every cast of players has their role, and I have very little control.”

  “Winslet didn’t die during Rivalry Week,” Quinn tells him. “But you knew that.”

  “A month after the car went into the river, I started hearing stories of home.” He pauses. “Three murders—all Pirates. And Winslet can get very angry.”

  “Did you return to Weston?” Quinn questions. “Did you see her?”

  “Yes.”

  Quinn meets my eyes. Such a quick and simple answer. She was right. Their trail doesn’t go cold after the Night Ride. More has happened in the years since.

  He adds, “But you’re not at that part in the story yet.”

  “Where did you see her?” Quinn asks. “Just tell me that.”

  For a moment, I don’t think he’s going to answer. Then, he says, “Camp Blackhawk.”

  The summer camp before it was renovated and reopened. She was hiding there after she survived the river.

  Her own friends tried to murder her. She couldn’t go home.

  Or she didn’t want to. She wanted her revenge.

  “What did you do when you saw her?” I ask him.

  “It was a long night, I’ll tell you that.”

  I shake my head.

  “Why are you leaving a trail for us?” Quinn begs him. “What do you want?”

  But he simply counters with another question. “How did she look?”

  How did she look?

  Quinn thinks it was Winslet who saved her tonight. He knows she’s here?

  “Younger than I thought she would,” Quinn tells him.

  “Because we stop aging when we die,” he points out.

  “You believe that?” I narrow my eyes in disbelief. “That Quinn saw her ghost tonight?”

  I don’t mean to mock him, but come on…

  “I believe…that I can still taste her on my mouth and smell her on my clothes.” His voice seems like mist, a whisper. “And I believe she’s still where I buried her. At Blackhawk.”

  Quinn’s eyes widen, but before I can say anything, the line dies.

  “Wait!” I growl.

  We call back, but it goes straight to voicemail, as if he’s turned the phone off. This phone will never be on again. He’ll ditch it.

  Quinn searches my eyes. “What do we do now?”

  I don’t know.

  But at the very least, we can write everything down while it’s fresh and fill everyone else in tomorrow.

  And we can add to the murder map at Carnival Tower. Time to focus Hawke’s research on a new lead.

  Quinn

  I hover outside my father’s office, listening with Lucas at my back.

  “It’s not our fault!” Madoc shouts.

  “It is absolutely your fault!”

  I wince, my dad’s voice more of a growl than a bellow. Lucas holds my shoulder, rubbing his thumb over the back of my neck.

  My parents got home late last night, and when they found out everything they’d missed, they wouldn’t even listen to me. My brothers were summoned. Jared, Madoc, and Jax haven’t been in there more than sixty seconds, and there’s already shouting. I can just picture them lined up in front of my father’s desk like they’re back in high school facing the principal.