Cassandra remained in a fog as she drove out of Mitchell’s driveway. She sat on the edge, trying to determine where to go. There were other players in this subterfuge and that was her self-appointed job to figure out. The picture was the remaining clue. She was certain of the nasty fact. Tapping on the steering wheel, she prayed that the visions would return but there was nothing but a cold darkness in her mind, a deafening quiet. At this point, she was on her own.

As she drove toward the city, a single thought came to mind. There were few places she could have seen the picture, or some resemblance. There was only one that made any sense. She pressed down on the gas pedal, heading in the direction of her office. Diego. She was absolutely certain he was a part of this. He had to be. The sudden interest, the job for Rush handed to her on a silver platter.

Anger swept through every cell, creating thoughts of revenge, but she knew she had to be careful, not tip her hand. Mitchell had his hands full in securing an attorney and she would bet the Press had already been tipped off as to Zach’s arrest. Instead of killing Zach, the asshole wanted his life and his reputation destroyed. The person also wanted her love sent to prison for a murder he didn’t commit. The thought was almost perfect, too much so.

Concentrating, she took the back way into the office, avoiding the majority of traffic. When she pulled into the parking lot of her office, she quickly looked for any recognizable cars. Being Saturday, there was only a single vehicle in the parking lot and one she didn’t recognize. Breathing a sigh of relief, she parked along the back wall, as close to the building and away from the street as possible.

Easing out, she glanced all around her before grabbing her keys and heading for the back door. The card key allowed her into the building without any issues and she listened for any signs of activity. There was none. The elevator ride was without incident and she held her breath as the steel box came to a halt, the doors sliding open after a few seconds that seemed like minutes.

She stepped out, peering up and down the shadowed hallways. There was no one around that she could see. Her steps quick and light, she moved to Diego’s office. He was organized, everything in its place. There were various pictures on several credenzas and even on the walls. Risking turning on the light, she moved through the room methodically, comparing the grainy picture to every photograph. There was no one that looked remotely like the man in the picture.

Turning in a full circle, she stared down at his desk. If he even thought she was onto him, he would hide the picture, even destroying it. She rolled her eyes and walked around the edge, pulling open the various drawers and sifting through his things. She found no pictures, no hidden compartments and no damning information.

Disgruntled, she had to fight to keep from slamming the last drawer. Something was jammed inside. Shit. Sweat beaded along the back of her neck. The last thing she needed was for Diego to find anything amiss and knowing the man, he would. After fiddling with the drawer, she managed to shove her fingers just inside, pushing down the contents. One piece of paper continued to slide out. Yanking the handle, she grabbed the problem piece then blinked several times.

The email had been printed and folded, shoved into a drawer as if Diego was trying to hide the contents. Why not just delete it? She glanced over her shoulder at the window before opening the paper. Slapping her hand over her mouth, she wouldn’t have considered this. Not a chance. Her hand trembling, she folded the email again, shoving it into her pocket and carefully closing the drawer.

After turning out the light, she stood in the hallway, catching her breath, then moved further into the shadows. She eased her hand around the handle, shaking her head before turning it. When she walked in, an instant chill washed down her spine. She didn’t have to have a vision to understand the level of evil surrounding the office.

Cassandra found the light on his desk and pushed the single switch. She’d been in his office once, maybe twice given there’d been no need. He wasn’t a part of the organization on a daily basis. A lump formed in her throat as she began her search. The pictures were bland, showing very little in the way of family or friends. A small table held a grouping and the closer she came to the photographs, she more her skin crawled.

One after the other, she found nothing until the last one. She narrowed her eyes then pulled the entire frame back to the light. She was shaking all over as she eased the other picture from her pocket. The moment she placed them side by side, she bit back a yelp. There it was.

Crack!

The noise came from nowhere. Everywhere. Fear slithered down the back of her legs and she jerked her head up, blowing out air in an effort to keep from moaning or issuing any sound. She quickly turned off the light and a rush of air seemed to float all around her, a sizzling noise as if lightning was flashing.

Her body jerked forward, pushing her hard against the desk as the vision rushed up from the pits of Hell, swirling and fuzzy, rolling in slow motion.

She gripped the edge and concentrated, trying to capture and understand what she was seeing. The face was different, one she didn’t recognize and…

Crack! Whoosh!

No. No! As the face came into full view, she panicked, stumbling toward the door. She had to get out of here. She had to get to safety. Her air supply seemed cut off as she raced to the elevator and could hear someone behind her. He was there. He was following her.

He was going to kill her.

“No.” She ran toward the stairs, slamming open the door and racing into the stairwell, hugging the cold wall. With every step, every few feet, she could hear him behind her. Echoes. Thumps. He was coming for her. Again. Not again.

By the time she made it outside, she could no longer hear anything but the beating of her heart. She managed to get inside her car, slamming and locking the doors, but dropped the keys. Calm down. Breathe. Finally, able to jam the key into the lock, she turned the ignition and jerked the gear, roaring out of the parking lot before bothering to look in her rearview mirror.

This had to end. No, this was just beginning.

Remember…

* * *

He watched as her car screamed out of the parking lot and eased from the shadows of the protected alcove, his thoughts drifting. As he looked up at the building, he realized that whatever she’d seen had scared her to death. He grimaced and rubbed his jaw before heading for his truck. There was no rush. She was nothing if not predictable. He would take this slow and easy, enjoying the moment of attack.

Grinning, he climbed into his truck, turning over the engine and sitting for a few seconds, contemplating. He knew what to expect from the local police department. After checking his watch, he calculated his time then drove out of the parking lot, finding a local country station. He whistled as he drove, heading in the direction.

A quick glance over at the passenger seat gave him another smile. He had everything he needed. While he wanted this to be slow, agonizing, he realized there was more work to do. Tonight, was just the beginning.

The afternoon light was waning, giving way to a series of dark and ugly clouds. He could sense another storm brewing, a violent thunderstorm. Perfect. He adored the thunder, the way the rain blanketed everything in its path, allowing a turbulent but very special peace. This would be the perfect cover, as if he needed one.

He drove under the speed limit, enjoying he drive. She had no idea what was about to come, what kind of role she’d played since the beginning. She was a prize, one to be cherished. She was something special.

In the next several minutes, he fell into his zone, maneuvering the truck through the winding streets until he reached his destination. The lights were already on and no doubt, she’d found the gift he’d left for her. He cut the engine and eased back into the seat. The time would be right soon.

Very soon…

* * *

Cassandra sat frozen in her seat, terrified of going inside. She remained ice cold, her thoughts drifting, her imagination reeling. What the hell was she supposed to do now?

Boom!

The roll of thunder made her yelp and she jerked her head to glare out of the driver’s seat window. The afternoon sun had given away to ominous clouds, already creating a series of shadows in front of her house. She clenched her purse, hugging the leather bag to her chest, and breathed in and out, doing everything to stop the near panic attack. She couldn’t help Zach if she was incapacitated. After counting to three, she opened the door and eased onto her driveway. Her thoughts drifted to the Indian Chief. His warning had been cathartic. If only she’d known what he’d been trying to communicate.

None of her suspicions had been correct, but she knew the truth was buried in her paintings.

Boom!

Another crack of thunder made her move quickly to her front door, unlocking and inching inside. She stood huffing, catching her breath until a slight smell drew her attention. What in the hell was she detecting?

The living room light indicated nothing but the moment she walked into her kitchen, allowing the garish light to flood the room, she fell against the wall, sliding down until she was on the floor.

The letters were in block writing, oversized and covering the top half of her kitchen wall. Written in red, she suspected given the smell the substance was blood.

Remember…

She covered her ears as they started to ring, every sense in her body on high alert. Remember. Remember. Remember. The little voice inside her head chastised, laughing, daunting her to see into her past, to accept what she no doubt had already known. Refusing wasn’t the answer, but she was terrified to accept the truth, the strangling knowledge that had no doubt always been with her.

Struggling to her feet, she moved to within inches of the writing, studying the way the letters were written. The warning was not only for her, but for Zach, as if he didn’t already know. Then again, did he? From what Mitchell had told her, there was no way for Zach to know the truth. Not yet.

She jumped when a flash of lightning crested across her window, the memory of her time spent with the wonderful man a bittersweet concept. Would they ever be able to enjoy sharing their love again? No. She couldn’t think this way. She had to find the final answers, to free both of their souls before they were permanently pulled into damnation.

Dropping her bag, she headed straight for her studio. While her emotions rolled, highs and lows of rage and desperate sadness, there was so much more. She would find the remaining answers. She would save them. She would…

The paintings had been moved. She was certain of it. The person infiltrating her house had known what he was looking for. Snarling, she moved to the first group, glancing up and down each one as her rage increased. Once she was done searching, she pulled a painting free, tossing it across the room. They no longer meant anything to her but reminders of death and despair.

One after the other, she pulled them free, trying to find what she was looking for. When she was near the back, almost to the last painting, she held her breath. Two of the paintings reminded her of the man in the picture. How in the hell had she not seen the resemblance before? How had she been so stupid?

Crack! Boom!

The storm was approaching and as the rain began to pelt against the windows, she tingled all over, electricity shooting through every cell. She was covered in goose bumps, hair on the back of her neck standing on end. She slapped her hand over her mouth and moved closer. When she inched even closer, her hand whisked against the painting of Zach, but now she knew she’d drawn someone else. As the cover began to fall, revealing a change in the textures, the colors and in the painting, itself, she became aware of a presence.

Turning slowly, she pressed her hand over her mouth as a scream bubbled up from her throat.

“We meet again.”

Wham!

* * *

“When you leave here, do not talk to anyone and I mean anyone about this case. Go home. Stay home and do not answer your phone. Do you understand what I’m telling you, Mr. Goodman?” The voice was hushed, speaking so only Zach could hear.

Zach nodded as he was led through the police station. Taylor Williams was the best criminal defense attorney in town and a man Mitchell trusted. As he was led to the back door, he thought about nothing but Cassandra. “I’m worried about Ms. Jeffries. I think someone is going to try and hurt her.”

“I’ll talk to her and try and convince her to go stay with a friend or at least a hotel until we can figure out what the hell is going on. You don’t need to worry about her. Trust me. With the evidence they have on you, this case is not going to go away easily. You’re fucking lucky we were able to get you out on bail.” Taylor nodded to Mitchell. “Keep him with you. The Press is already outside, waiting. Nothing is to be discussed.”

“I need my gun,” Zach muttered.

“No, you don’t! I don’t know what you can’t get about the situation you’re in, Mr. Goodman and you should for Christ’s sake!” Taylor huffed.

“I’ll keep him away from the Press and out of harm’s way,” Mitchell said under his breath. “You just do the job I hired you for. We don’t need this, and Zach is innocent of these ridiculous charges.”

“I’ve seen the amount of Press. This is already getting out of hand,” Camden stated then looked around the precinct. “We need to get a handle on this.”

“Let it go. I need to get out of here,” Zach said under his breath. He was no longer in any state of shock, merely angry at the fact he’d allowed himself to fall into this trap. Thank God, Mitchell had been able to locate and hire the attorney, but he knew this was the least of his problems. There would be more.

“Come on. The car is just outside.” Mitchell guided him to the door.

Camden flanked his other side.

Zach nodded and as the door was opened, he winced seeing the number of television stations and cameras, all eyes on the monster from Rush Enterprises. He was damn glad both of his best friends were with him. As the cameras rolled and the microphones were shoved into his face, he fell into a trance. What little Mitchell had told him meant the game was far from over.

“Mr. Goodman. Do you have anything to say about the victim?”

“I understand you knew her from a kink club?”

“What is your relationship with the victim?”

The questions came fast and furious. Blinking, Zach performed as required, remaining stoic and quiet.

“Can you tell us about your involvement with the BDSM community?” The female reporter shoved her way in front, her eyes open wide.

“We have no statement to make at this time. Thank you,” Tyler said, his voice clipped, as he moved in front of Zach, Camden and Mitchell, blocking the onslaught as the reporters followed them into the parking lot.

The rain was coming down and as Zach looked up, watching the patterns of lightning, he was shaken, a single image popping into his mind. Frozen, he had to be pulled toward the car. “Shit.”

“Come on,” Mitchell said under his breath as he yanked Zach toward the waiting SUV. “We’ll talk later.”

“Bastards. They have no idea what they’re talking about,” Camden added.

“Get him out of here!” Tyler directed as the questions became more berating, accusatory.

“What did you have to do with the murder of Sandra Mullins?”

“What is the evidence they have against you?”

“Did you murder Ms. Mullins to keep her quiet about your activities?”

The last question was far too much to take. Snarling, he jerked around, facing the older woman, vile words ready to spew from his mouth.

Mitchell grabbed him by the arm and swung open the door of the SUV, ushering him inside the backseat. “Let’s go.”

Zach crumpled into the seat, his heart racing until he was forced to take short pants. And still the air was difficult to breathe. He lowered his head and could hear their continuous retorts, the almost screams mixing with the sound of thunder. No matter the outcome, his reputation was blown.

Mitchell jumped inside, locking the doors and starting the engine. “This is nuts. How in the hell did they find out so fast?”

Camden eased into the passenger seat. “This is just the beginning. They were no doubt tipped off by some gregarious officer, bucking for a promotion.”

“He called them. No doubt. This is nothing more than a game for him.” Zach shook his head.

“Him. Who do you think this is?” Mitchell asked.

“Someone who worked for my father.”

Mitchell remained quiet as he maneuvered out of the parking lot and headed down the street. Checking the rearview mirror, he darted in and out of traffic until he hit the interstate. Then he floored the accelerator. “I need to tell you something.”

Camden looked back. “I need to hear this entire story. When Mitchell called, I couldn’t believe this shit. Why did you keep this from us?”

Zach ignored Camden. “Whatever you have to tell me is going to have to wait. I need to see her.”

“Listen to me! Your father had a lot of men working for him.” Mitchell’s voice was gruff.

“Tell me something I don’t know. They believe I have millions of dollars stored away, taken after what happened with my father.” Zach laughed at the thought. As if he wanted the blood money.

“I don’t think you get the full picture. I did some digging. I found out some information that you’re going to want to hear,” Mitchell continued.

“When were you both going to confide in me?” Camden admonished.

Bing!

Hearing the blip of his phone, Zach hissed. “Let me guess.” As he pulled the phone from his pocket, he began to shake. “The bastard has her. He fucking has her!”

“What in the hell are you talking about?” Mitchell glanced over.

“She’s been abducted. He’s going to kill her.”

“Who? Cassandra?” Camden growled. “You’ve gotten close to her.”

“I care about her. She’s my life!” Zach snapped.

Mitchell gripped the steering wheel. “Then we need to call the police.”

“No fucking way. There’s no time. Go to her house. Now.” The picture didn’t give any indication of where she’d been taken, but he could see her face, her terrified eyes and the horror as she looked at the camera. When his friend hesitated, he slapped his hand on the window. “Now, Mitchell!”

“Fine, but you need to listen to me. One of the men who worked for your father had a son, the rightful heir to the portion of this consortium and to New Horizons. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Jeff Parker.”

“No. That’s what I found out. Jeff was found murdered, his body dumped at a construction site. He would have been covered up by thousands of pounds of concrete if a worker hadn’t seen his hand sticking out. I don’t know the details, but that’s not who is doing this.”

“Just drive. Turn up here. Hurry.” He was only half listening to what Mitchell was telling him. He had to get to her before it was too late.

“His name is Marcus Billings. His father was one of the men in that picture. Along with your father.” Mitchell looked at Camden, his breath sounds ragged.

Zach bristled. “The man from the site the other day.”

“Exactly. He has a serious reputation and a record. My friends at the FBI are very interested to learn of his whereabouts. And who he’s pretending to be.”

“This is all about revenge.” Camden’s voice was filled with anger.

“And finding the money. That’s why Rush was selected. I figured if I suspended you, we could find out if this was about Rush or about you, Zach. I guess we have our answer. This has been a scheme planned and put into motion that must have taken months,” Mitchell added.

“Something doesn’t fit. There’s a missing piece. I know it.” Zach groaned as he leaned forward.

“I think they believe your father is alive and has the money or that he shared it with you.”

Zach snorted. “As if that would happen. I killed him.”

Mitchell exhaled. “What?”

“I killed my father ten years ago. The bastard deserved it.”

“Then that would be a matter of public record.”

“I dumped the body myself. My mother told no one. We moved again that very night. There were no questions, and no one bothered us after that day. No one.” Zach’s words were now said easily, no longer remembering the horrible time with anything but a matter of fact moment.

“Fuck. I had no idea.” Camden shook his head. “Did you know about this?” He directed his question to Mitchell.

“No one did. I changed my name and lived my life.” Zach rubbed his eyes, his entire body aching from the tension.

“Then they will stop at nothing to get what they want, including taking Cassandra’s life. Tell me where she lives.” Mitchell stepped on the gas. When they were at a stop light, he shifted, cocking his head. “Marcus Billings isn’t who he claims to be.”

Zach remained in a fog of his own making as Mitchell drove. Certain pieces were falling together, but there was something else, a vision that Cassandra had tried desperately to share, but he’d refused to accept, pushing away the spirit for fear of losing his mind. And now? He was going to lose everything else. He wanted nothing more than to connect with the spirits, to fully embrace what they’d been trying to tell him, perhaps for years. There was no such vision, no distinct knowledge that would allow him to find her. He’d been abandoned to fend on his own, to fight for his destiny and her life.

When they rolled up to her house, he could see several lights on, her car in the driveway. The bastard had taken her from her own home. He jumped out of the SUV and headed for the entrance. The front door was ajar. The moment he walked inside, he was struck by how quiet the entire house seemed to be, eerie given the continuing storm. He headed straight for the studio. The answer had to be in the pictures.

“Wait. Look at this.” Mitchell’s voice was shaking.

The writing on the wall didn’t surprise him. He walked closer, studying the word, the way it was written, and he grimaced. “She knows the killer. He’s been a part of her life.”

“She just met Marcus. That doesn’t make any sense.”

Camden moved closer. “This is also about the car wreck.”

“Yeah, but there’s a hell of a lot more.” Zach tipped his head, giving his friend a knowing look. “Then we have more than one perpetrator. Come with me.” He showed Mitchell to the studio. The light told of the attack, pictures strewn across the room, a string of blood pooled on the floor.

“Jesus Christ.” Mitchell sifted through the paintings, using a single finger. “I wouldn’t disturb anything. The police are going to need to see this.”

“We are not going to the police. Whatever is going to happen will occur tonight. I know it. I feel it.” Crouching down, he studied the blood until a picture caught his eye. The painting from before, his painting. He tried to remember what she’d told him. That it wasn’t a picture of him. That the man in the painting was…

As he pulled the painting into the light, he began to shake, his body slumping as the air around him became chilled, electricity coursing through his body. Blinking, he struggled to make sense of what he was seeing, the visions blurred at first. As they became clearer, he struggled to understand, to know how in the Hell…

“Are you all right? Zach?” Mitchell shook him. “Come on. What’s going on? Talk to me.”

“He’s shaking. What is going on?” Camden demanded.

“She’s being kept in a building under construction. I know the location. I can see the address. They’re waiting for us. We have to go.” He dropped the painting and headed for the door.

“That’s it. I’m calling the police.”

“They’ll kill her. We have to do this alone.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

Zach exhaled as he turned to look at his friend. “For the first time, I know what I’m doing. Trust me.”

* * *

“Stop here,” Zach directed, pointing toward a parking lot. The visions were no longer prevalent, but the memory of the location furrowed in the back of his mind.

Mitchell pulled into a space and looked out the windshield. “Are you certain?”

“Dead certain. This belongs to New Horizons.” He grabbed the handle on the door, thankful the rain had lessened.

“We’re not actually going to do this,” Camden huffed. “We’re not equipped to handle shit like this.”

“We’re going to save her!” Zach hissed.

“Wait.” Mitchell reached behind his seat, tugging a bag into the front. “I had a feeling this was going to be a shit show. I brought firepower.” Unzipping the bag, he pulled out a pistol, checking the load before handing it to Zach. “Whatever the hell is going on, you’re going to need to tell me at some point.”

Zach nodded as he grabbed the gun. “Thank you for everything you’re doing. Both of you. I owe you.”

“Yeah? Let’s just get out of this alive. You’re certain you don’t want to get the police involved?”

“I don’t like this. If they have Cassandra inside, they’ll have no problems using force. You have to know that.” Camden gripped Zach’s wrist.

“I have to end this. I have to save her. You don’t understand what we’re dealing with.”

“And you do?” Mitchell whispered.

He climbed out of the vehicle, closing the door, his nerves on edge. Yes, what they were attempting to do was dangerous, but he knew there was no other choice. Whatever had brought him to this point would end here. This, he was certain of.

“Let’s get this over with,” Camden mumbled as he eased by Zach’s side. “You either have balls the size of footballs or you’re a complete idiot.”

“He’s in love,” Mitchell chuckled. “Let’s just hope you’re right about this.”

Love. The single word created a ripple in his heart. Zach held the gun in front of him as he looked up at the skyscraper. There was no indication of anyone inside, but he knew. He could feel the power, the aura surrounding it. This was no longer his choice to make. “Yeah, I do. I know exactly what I’m dealing with.”

They moved in a single line, heading for the building. There were a few cars scattered throughout the blocked off area, the majority labeled as being a part of New Horizons. They crouched down, moving through the darkness until they reached a construction entrance.

Mitchell pointed to a set of stairs and headed in toward them, holding his gun with both hands. Camden was next followed by Zach, each taking them two at a time. Every floor was checked, all three men walking the entire perimeter.

They found nothing of importance, no men hiding in the shadows.

Clang! Whoosh!

Stopping short, Zach listened as the creaking sounds of the metal studs wafted in the wind and the remnants from the storm. There was another creak followed by a single strangled whimper. Growling under his breath, he pushed the group on, going up several flights.

Mitchell eased out onto a landing then took long strides onto the unfinished floor.

The crude construction sign indicated this was the thirteenth floor. Fanning out, they surveyed the entire area, only finding various tools and supplies.

Bang!

Camden pointed to the ceiling and both Mitchell and Zach nodded. They made their way up another flight and finding nothing on the floor, they huddled in the stairwell for several seconds.

There was only one floor left.

Zach took the lead, creeping up the last flight of stairs. He waited until the others were right behind him then darted his head just inside the area. The floor was only twenty percent completed and the metal walls that were standing were affected by the wind, rattling as the breeze flowed in a perpendicular manner. From where they stood, they could see nothing. “Stay hidden just in case.”

Mitchell nodded and squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Zach knew he would do what he needed to. He took a deep breath, crouched lower to the cement floor and pointed to the left while he headed to the right. He could feel her, could sense her fear and dark emotions.

Cassandra was calling out to him, her heart beating wildly as she tried to remain calm. Zach concentrated on their tethering, and with every step the connection grew stronger, more electrified. With every step, the visions became more vivid, a swirl of images, flashes of his past, his life and the man he hated with every ounce of his being.

Bam!

The gunshot hit just to his right, pinging off a piece of metal.

Zach dropped and rolled, aiming the gun in the direction of the blast. He could see nothing in the darkness, no form or shape, merely a blur of visions from his mind.

“I think that’s far enough.” The ominous tone of the man’s voice was followed by a deep chuckle. Just then, a single light popped on, illuminating an area just in front of an open space, the edge of the building. Cassandra was tied to a chair, her mouth taped, her eyes imploring. Soaked from the heavy rain, she was shivering.

The man standing next to her had one hand on her shoulder, the other wrapped around the grip of a gun. He stood casually, as if the wait had been easy, worth the effort.

Rising to his full height, he took calculated steps forward. “Marcus or should I say, Mark Parker, first born son of Christopher Parker.”

Marcus grinned and took a step closer. “I must admit, I’m surprised you were able to figure this out.”

He studied the man’s hands. There was no missing finger, cut off to prove a point. “I make it a point to learn about my enemies.”

Laughing, Marcus pointed the gun at Zach’s head. “I’m just the hired gun, although I must admit, dealing with my useless baby brother in the process was a perk. Did you enjoy my gift to you?”

“The finger.”

Marcus continued smiling. “He’d wasted his life avoiding the inevitable and my family’s legacy. Oh, wait. You don’t care about family legacy. Do you?”

“Why destroy me? I’m no one to you.” He fed off the energy, trying his best to understand the images, the visions that Cassandra was also tied to. Zach could see Mitchell out of the corner of his eye, moving closer. Camden was nowhere in sight. He took another step forward.

A bright light flashed through his mind, a single image highlighted more than the others. Zach could feel her strength, her own spirit roaring into his, creating another vibrant jolt of electricity, allowing him to see and understand. Allowing him to see that…

“That’s far enough.” The second voice boomed from the darkness.

Zach heard the heavy footsteps as they echoed, coming closer, closer still. And he understood. As the face of the man appeared, his evil grin and blackened eyes illuminated by the single light source, he swung his arm, pointing the gun at the man’s head.

At his father’s head, the man he believed to be dead for ten years. There was no rhyme or reason, no sense he could make of what was occurring, but he knew the painting was indeed of his father, an angry and vindictive man whose spirit had forsaken him. If only he’d paid attention, embraced his captured spirit.

Only Mitchell was in the way, his hands up, his face pinched from the strangled hold around his neck by his father.

“It’s good to have friends. Yes?” Thomas Blackfoot walked closer, smiling as the recognition settled in.

“Leave Mitchell out of this, Father.” Zach continued shaking, every nerve standing on end. This was a no win situation. His father had lived? Had survived the shooting?

“My son. It’s good to see you. I must admit, an attorney. I was surprised.” Thomas took additional steps, walking into the light. “Then again, you are just like me, frequenting kink clubs, enjoying sordid women.”

Marcus shifted, remaining close to Cassandra.

The man was goading him, trying to break his concentration. Just like he’d done all those years ago. “Nice try, Father. You were the monster and still are.” Zach tried to calculate how to handle this. “I watched you die. I dumped your body where no one could find it.”

“You tried. But you were weak, stupid, just like I always knew you were.” Thomas tilted his head. “I survived.” He cocked the gun. “Sadly, my son, you aren’t going to be so lucky.”

Bang!

As a shot rang out, coming from the shadows, Mitchell pushed hard against Thomas, breaking the man’s hold. Marcus went down with a hard thud, falling face first against the concrete.

Thomas roared and swung to the left, leveling the gun at Cassandra.

Years of fear, horrors at what he’d done and the understanding that the love of his life would die at the hands of a monster collided. Zach jerked into action, sprinting toward his father.

Bam!

Zach lunged, shoving Thomas backwards, the momentum tossing them both toward the edge.

“Zach! No!”

Whoosh!