Reveling in Sin Read online

Page 16


  Fuck.

  I drop to a knee beside the woman and shake her. She doesn’t wake up, and the deputy’s blood pools beneath them both.

  “Help! I need some fucking help in here!”

  My bellow carries over the cacophony of noise in the ER, and within moments, someone drops to their knees beside me. One of the ER docs who was with Commodore.

  “Jesus Christ. What the hell happened?”

  “I have no idea,” I tell him.

  He feels for a pulse on the nurse and then the deputy. “He’s breathing, but she barely is. Fucking Christ.”

  I spy a syringe on the floor a few feet away and scramble over to pick it up. “Could she have been drugged?”

  I hold it up and the doctor looks at it and then to the bed.

  “This was your brother’s room, right? He was restrained?”

  I nod. “Yeah, but he’s clearly not anymore.” I look at the deputy’s belt. He’s missing his service weapon. “And now he’s armed and fucking dangerous.”

  “We have to get them both out of here,” the doctor says. “Everyone has to go. They say the wind’s picked up and shifted, putting us directly in the path of the wildfire if it crosses the river, which they’re predicting it will. It’ll take us a couple more hours to evacuate the hospital, and the forest service told us we need to be out in ninety minutes.”

  This is the first I’ve heard of a specific timeline, and the gravity of the situation hits me hard.

  “What can I do to help?”

  “Find me some help. I need to stabilize both of them before we can get them out of here.”

  “Got it.” I pause at the doorway. “What about the surgeries in progress? What if they can’t be wrapped up in time?”

  The doctor looks at me, his expression grim. “They don’t have a choice, unless they all want to die.” He turns away from me and opens a drawer to pull out supplies.

  As soon as I step out of the room, I grab the first medical professional I see. “Doc needs you. In there. Please.”

  The woman’s brows dip together. “But I’m—”

  “Please,” I repeat. “He’s trying to work on two patients who were attacked, and he needs help.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  As she rushes into the room, I yank my phone from my pocket and call my office. One of the assistants answers the phone.

  “Is everyone evacuating?” I ask in lieu of a greeting.

  “Yes, sir. Everyone’s out of the building and loading up their cars.”

  “Tell them to stop at the hospital on the way out of town. We’ve got people who need rides.”

  She goes quiet. “You want us to . . .”

  “Send every single person with an open seat to the hospital, right now. We need all the help we can get. Otherwise, these people will be trapped here.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll spread the word.”

  My next call is to my sister.

  “Thank God, Lincoln. I just heard from Cricket Gable. Is it true Harrison started the fire?”

  “Yes, but we can’t talk about it now. Are the kids safe?”

  “Yes, we’re in the Escalade, headed to Rock Hollow. Cricket and Hunter are meeting me there.”

  “Good. Keep those kids safe. Don’t stop for anyone. Understand me?”

  “Yes, of course. If Rock Hollow isn’t safe enough, we’ll keep going.”

  “I love you, Mac. We’re going to get through this.”

  “I love you too, Linc. And I know we will. We’re Riscoffs.”

  I hang up with her, wondering how the hell I’m going to tell her that Harrison isn’t our full brother, and then decide it doesn’t matter right now.

  I wouldn’t care if McKinley wasn’t my full sister. Although, given that she looks exactly like our paternal grandmother, I’d find that hard to believe.

  Regardless, there’ll be plenty of time to worry about this later when everyone I love is safe and accounted for—and right now, I have no fucking clue where Whitney is.

  I charge into the stream of people rushing out the front of the hospital and look everywhere I can for her black hair. I rush from one group to another, asking if anyone has seen her, but no one has.

  Where the hell are you, Whitney? I won’t fucking lose you now.

  51

  Whitney

  I fight the wave of blackness that washes over me, but Harrison hit me hard. I keep blinking and try to focus, but I can’t.

  Suddenly, I’m shoved forward and my hips ram into something metal. My feet are picked up off the floor, and I land facedown on something soft. A gurney?

  Wheels squeak as we start to move. No, not move. Roll.

  What the hell? Where is he taking me?

  “What are you . . .” I try to roll over, but my body doesn’t want to cooperate, and my brain stumbles when I speak.

  “Shut the fuck up, whore. My brother never should’ve fucking touched your skank ass.”

  His words echo, and there’s no sound from any other hospital staff or patients. Where is he taking me?

  When he pushes the gurney around a corner, I finally manage to roll over and struggle to sit up. The hallway we’re in is completely empty.

  This area must have already been evacuated?

  Before I can come to any conclusions, Harrison stops to land another solid blow to my temple. Again, white stars burst in my field of vision, but I know I can’t give in to the darkness that’s trying to take me under.

  If I pass out, I’m going to die. I know it.

  And that’s not going to fucking happen. I bite down on my lower lip, and the jolt of pain keeps my eyes open.

  I’m not dying today. I have too much to live for. Lincoln and our life and our future.

  Something cold closes over my wrist with a metallic click. The sound repeats, but it’s metal on metal the second time.

  Handcuffs.

  I jerk against the metal, but my hand is trapped.

  He handcuffed me to a gurney. Fucking hell.

  “I would just shoot you, but it’ll be way better knowing you’re going to burn alive for what you did to my mother, you cunt.”

  He shoves the gun in his waistband and pulls open a door with his good hand.

  I twist around to see shelves of linens behind me as Harrison pushes the gurney inside with his hip.

  “No!” I scream, and the word echoes down the empty hallway.

  “There’s no one to hear you scream, whore.”

  I open my mouth to yell again, but a shriek fills the air.

  “I heard her, you asshole!”

  Harrison whips around, still in the hallway, and the next thing I see makes me wonder if I’m hallucinating.

  My aunt Jackie launches herself into the air, her hands outstretched, reaching for his throat.

  Where the hell did she come from? Did they already move Karma?

  Her fingers curl around his neck and they both hit the floor. I struggle toward the end of the gurney closest to the doorway.

  “Jackie! He has a gun!”

  I don’t know where Harrison finds the strength, but he uses his one good hand to tear Jackie’s fingers from his throat.

  “Bitch!”

  He flips onto his side like he’s got superhuman strength, and Jackie’s body smacks the floor. I yank at the cuff, trying to get to my aunt to help her battle this bastard, not caring at all that my wrist screams in pain.

  I can’t let him hurt her. I won’t let him hurt her.

  Harrison scrambles to his feet faster than Jackie can.

  “No!” I yell, terrified about what he might do to my aunt next. “Stop! Help! Anyone!” I’m screaming like a crazy person and I don’t even care. All I want is someone to stop Harrison before he can hurt Jackie more.

  Harrison grabs Jackie by the arm and yanks her up, dragging her toward the closet where I’m trapped. “I’ll kill two Gables for the price of one. You’re all whores. Every single one of you. You can both die to pay for what your family did to
my mother!”

  Jackie kicks out at him, but Harrison barely flinches. Whatever painkillers he’s on must have him feeling unstoppable.

  “Bitch!”

  “No, you’re the little bitch.”

  I have no idea how she got Harrison’s gun, but Jackie’s arm swings up and she aims the gun at Harrison’s face.

  “You think you know everything, you little prick? You don’t know anything! Whitney never did a goddamn thing to your mother. You want to know who killed her? I did. I killed them all.”

  Shock rips through me at Jackie’s screamed confession, and Harrison’s jaw drops.

  “What the fuck are you talking about, bitch?”

  Jackie wraps her other hand around the grip of the pistol to steady it. “I killed your mother, you piece of shit. Me. I gave her the drugs. She was going to destroy my family, and I wasn’t going to let it happen.”

  “What?” I breathe out the question, and Jackie turns to look at me for a second.

  “I’m so sorry, Whit. I never wanted you to know.”

  This can’t be happening. Jackie didn’t really kill Mrs. Riscoff. Did she?

  Before I can process any of it, Harrison makes a move to grab the gun, and I scream. Jackie pulls the trigger and a shot explodes. My ears ring, and I cover one with my free hand.

  Harrison falls to his knees, and Jackie stands over him.

  “You’re lying,” Harrison says. I don’t know where Jackie shot him, but his voice sounds strangled.

  “I don’t need to lie about anything. I slipped that bitter, angry excuse for a woman the rest of the fentanyl, and now you can see her in hell.”

  Oh my God. Oh my God. With my ears ringing and tears streaming down my face, I stare at Jackie as she aims the barrel of the gun at Harrison’s body.

  “This is for trying to kill me and my niece.”

  She pulls the trigger, and I scream again.

  I can’t believe what I’m hearing and seeing. I can’t believe any of it. My head pounds from the percussion of the shot, and my heart bleeds for the Riscoffs.

  Aunt Jackie has to be lying. She has to be. How can what she said possibly be true? Because if she killed Mrs. Riscoff with fentanyl . . . what does that mean? Did she kill Ricky too?

  When my aunt turns to face me, I barely recognize her. Her green shirt is splattered with blood and gore, and the triumph on her face terrifies me.

  “Please tell me you made that all up for his sake. Please. Please, Jackie.”

  I beg my aunt because I don’t know what else to do. This isn’t the woman who cleaned me up after I crashed on my bike, and put Band-Aids on my skinned knees. This isn’t the woman who treated me like her own daughter when my family fell apart. Jackie has always been my champion. My supporter. A rock for us all to lean on.

  She can’t be a murderer. It’s not possible.

  The glow of triumph on her face fades several degrees when she takes in my horrified expression. She closes her eyes for a beat and when she opens them, I’m staring at my aunt again.

  “I’m sorry, sweet girl. I had to. Sylvia was willing to do anything to keep you and Lincoln apart. She was going to have someone kill you, Whit. I couldn’t let her do that. Not to you.” She pauses as tears trickle down her face. “I couldn’t let her take you from us. So when she’d rather die than let a Gable marry her son . . . I knew that was the only way. One of the maids found the fentanyl left in one of the rooms, and I confiscated it. It sat in my drawer for months, and I forgot about it. But it was like the hand of God helping me protect you, Whit. I knew she wouldn’t suffer.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “It was the only way,” she repeats. “I would do anything to protect our family, Whitney. Anything.”

  What she said to Harrison a few moments ago echoes in my brain. “I killed them all.”

  “What did you mean . . . you killed them all? Who else?” I can’t believe I’m asking this question right now, but I have to know.

  My aunt’s face turns grave. “I should’ve told you everything that night. I should’ve told you how sorry I was. I didn’t mean to kill them. I just couldn’t save them.”

  Jackie’s words send waves of confusion rocking through me.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Her tears flow faster. “I was driving Roosevelt Riscoff’s car that night it went over the bridge. We were arguing.”

  Oh my God. Jackie was driving his car? Not my mother? For ten years, I’ve thought that my father hit Roosevelt Riscoff’s car because Roosevelt and my mother were trying to run away together and my father was enraged.

  But if Jackie was driving Roosevelt’s car . . . “Why? Why were you driving his car?”

  Her shoulders droop for a moment before she looks up at me. “Because I was the one who had an affair with him. Not your mom. And you need to know . . . Ricky wasn’t a Riscoff. Renee lied to Roosevelt. She would’ve never given a DNA sample because she was scamming him for years. He just wouldn’t listen.”

  “What?” I blink twice, and my head pounds. Nothing feels real.

  Jackie swallows. “Everyone lied, sweet girl, including me. But I couldn’t tell the truth either. Cricket and Karma are Riscoffs. Roosevelt got me pregnant when I was twenty years old. He threatened me. Told me he’d only pay if I never said anything to anyone. I took the money.”

  Sweet Jesus. It’s like listening to Renee Rango tell her story, except . . . apparently she lied about that too? Confusion batters my brain, and I can’t figure out how all the pieces fit together. It’s too overwhelming.

  “Why were you in his car that night? Were you still having an affair?”

  She shakes her head, and her features turn to stone. Once more, I’m looking at a stranger.

  “No. Once I told him I was pregnant, he never touched me again. I would’ve shot him first.”

  “I don’t understand.” I whisper the words, and it’s the truth. How could she have been in his car that night if the affair had been over for twenty years?

  “Roosevelt saw Karma in a bar. He hit on her, not realizing she was his daughter. When she came home and told me what happened, I lost it. He hit on his own daughter. Who does that?” Jackie’s face contorts as she wails the words.

  “Oh my God.” I lift one hand to my mouth, pressing hard as though it can stop the bile rising in my throat. I feel like I’m going to be sick.

  Jackie might sound crazy, but I know she has absolutely no reason to lie. Which means . . . Cricket and Karma are Lincoln’s half sisters. Roosevelt tried to hit on his own daughter. And somehow, Jackie is responsible for the accident that killed him and my parents.

  “What happened, Jackie? That night? My parents . . .” Tears burn rivers down my face as I beg her to tell me.

  “I found Roosevelt at the bar, drunk. I dragged him out and put him in his car. I was taking him somewhere we could talk.”

  “And you drove over the bridge?”

  She nods. “He was yelling at me, and he grabbed the wheel and we swerved into the other lane.” She meets my gaze. “All I saw was headlights before we slammed into the other car, and we both went over the bridge.”

  There’s so much information coming at me, I don’t even know how to process it. Jackie keeps going.

  “We hit the water, and everything happened so fast. I panicked. I wasn’t going to die trying to save the man who propositioned his own daughter, so I left him in the car.” Her shoulders shake.

  “What about my parents? How could you leave them?”

  “I saw the car go under. The river was moving so fast, I couldn’t get to them. I almost drowned too. I didn’t think I was going to make it out.”

  “You didn’t even try to save them?”

  She breaks down into sobs. “I couldn’t. I’m so sorry, Whitney. It was all my fault. I never should have gone anywhere near Roosevelt Riscoff. They shouldn’t even have been on the bridge that night, but your daddy went looking for your mom, thinking she was cheating, but
instead he found her cleaning rooms at the Wham Bam Motel.”

  I remember the night my aunt showed up on my parents’ doorstep, dripping wet, after Lincoln and I had gotten into a fight. I thought she was soaked from the rain . . . but she’d been in the river, escaping the scene of the accident that killed my parents.

  “But my mom . . . they said she swam to the bank somehow. That’s why everyone thought she was driving Roosevelt’s car. You let everyone think that!”

  Jackie’s already tortured expression twists. “I’m so sorry, Whit, so damned sorry. I’ve tried every day to protect you any way I could. I owed that to you. That’s why I killed Ricky and Sylvia. I didn’t want them to hurt you anymore.”

  My heart jumps into my throat.

  “What? What did you say about Ricky?”

  Jackie squeezes her eyes closed for a beat before looking up at me. “Cricket ran into the house crying after you called her from the safe room, saying he’d threatened you. I knew I had to do something, so I was on a flight within an hour. I found the party from the posts on the internet.”

  Oh my God. This can’t be real. This can’t be true. I listen in disbelief as Jackie continues.

  “I sneaked inside, pretending to be part of the catering staff, and found Ricky. There were girls all over him. When one of them went to the bathroom, I told her I had some even better drugs for her to give him. She was too messed up to ask questions. That was the first time I used the fentanyl.”

  Even as horror at her confession rolls through me, I can picture the scene playing out in my head, as though I had been there myself. After all, I’d been to more parties with Ricky than I could count. It would have been a free-for-all with drugs everywhere. No one asks questions, except how they can get more. I always left as soon as things spiraled out of control.

  “Then what happened?” I ask her.

  Jackie shakes her head as she lowers the gun to the end of the gurney. “I left. I told myself if he decided not to do them, then it would be his own choice. But he did it. He put the needle in his veins. He killed himself.”

  My entire body prickles with goose bumps. She sounds like she’s rationalizing her actions, but I don’t know what to think anymore. Technically, she’s right. She didn’t force that needle into his veins. He made that choice. But . . .