Edge of Hunger. Rhyannon Byrd

Edge of Hunger - Rhyannon  Byrd


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was a heavy pause, and then Riley said, “Aren’t you going to ask what happened to her?” When he didn’t respond, Riley growled, “She’s been killed, Ian. Murdered.”

      He swallowed, unable to scrape up so much as a grunt. “I’ll be there in fifteen,” he finally managed to choke out, before disconnecting the call. Fury crawled its way through his system, sickening and thick, consuming his body heat along its way, until he was standing there, shivering, his skin cold and clammy. Not wanting to look at Molly, he scanned the room, finally eyeing the flash of his keys on the TV stand by the window.

      â€œThe sheriff’s your brother, isn’t he?” she asked softly. “Riley?”

      He tried to nod, but the movement came out too jerky, like a spasm. “Yeah. Like I said, I’m surprised Elaina left that little bit of information out.”

      â€œShe told me that you had a brother and sister, but that’s all.” She took a deep breath, then quietly said, “Something’s happened, hasn’t it?”

      Ian turned to look at her over his shoulder, wondering what the hell she was, what the hell was happening. “Kendra’s dead.”

      She flinched, shaking, the color draining out of her face as if she were bleeding out, leaving her pale and ghostly, like the damn voices she apparently heard in her screwed-up little head.

      â€œI have to get out there. Riley’s waiting for me.” His gut felt as if it’d been stripped with acid, and he struggled to keep down the scotch. “Where are you staying?” he asked, heading for the door.

      â€œOut at the Pine Motel.” She moved through the front door as he jerked it open, standing beside him as he quickly locked it.

      â€œThe Pine Motel? Christ,” he muttered, “That place is a dive.”

      â€œThanks for that remarkable observation,” she said thickly, and he could hear the threat of tears in her voice as she followed him down the rickety stairs. He headed toward his truck, her dark blue rental parked beside it, the moonlight no kinder to it than the sun had been.

      Giving her his meanest glare, hoping it’d make her listen, he said, “Get back there, then lock the windows and door and don’t answer it for anyone. You understand?”

      She lifted her chin, opening her car door and sliding behind the wheel. It struck him that she looked too small within the run-down rental, too fragile and easily breakable. “Don’t worry. I know how to take care of myself.”

      Ian could tell that the low sound of doubt he made in response grated on her nerves more than any snide comment he could have delivered.

      â€œWhen will I see you again?” she burst out, when he started to turn away.

      He shook his head, jamming his hands into his front pockets before he did something stupid, like try to touch her. “You won’t.”

      â€œIan—”

      â€œI want you to stay away from me,” he growled, cutting her off. “Tomorrow, when dawn hits, you get your ass in your car and go back to wherever it is you came from. You hear me?”

      â€œThere’s nothing wrong with my hearing.”

      â€œNo,” he rasped, “just your sanity.”

      â€œI’m not crazy. I wish I was. And I’m also not running. Not until we’ve set things right.”

      â€œGet out of town, Miss Stratton.” He punctuated the order with a hard look of warning, then slammed her car door. Ian waited until she’d started the engine and driven out onto the street, her taillights disappearing down the road, before turning around and climbing into his truck.

      He sat for a moment, staring at nothing, lost in thought, wondering if he’d ever see her crazy little ass again, hoping that she was smart enough to do what he’d told her before things got any more screwed-up than they already were. She could end up hurt. Hell, if she was right, if something was gunning for him with murder on its mind, she could even end up dead.

      With a low growl of frustration, he jammed the key into the ignition, hit the gas and headed into the night.

      CHAPTER FIVE

       Saturday Afternoon

      WHAT HAD BEEN a shitty night turned into a grinding, bitch of a day, every lead they followed slamming into a frustrating wall of nothing. By the time Ian finally made it back to his apartment, it was late the following afternoon. While the forensics team had dealt with the gruesome crime scene, he’d spent the hellish hours helping Riley retrace Kendra’s steps, talking to everyone they could find, while getting the third degree about her personal life. It was almost embarrassing, how little he was able to tell his brother about the woman he’d known for almost six months. And the crowd at Kendra’s favorite bar knew even less. A couple of people remembered her leaving with some blond guy, but no one could provide his name. One cocktail waitress coming back on shift had called him “tasty,” and the bartender was able to describe his eyes.

      â€œLike a husky’s. That cold, ice-blue. Know what I mean?”

      There’d been an odd moment when Riley had finally pulled up in front of his apartment building to drop him off, his brother’s expression one of intense frustration, as if he couldn’t decide what to say. Or how to say it. Then he’d scraped one hand back through his shaggy hair and asked, “Did you ever head out to that storage place over in Mountain Creek?”

      After Elaina’s funeral, Riley had shipped their mother’s personal belongings back to Colorado, storing them in a nearby facility. Instead of selling the small house where she’d lived, which had been in Elaina’s family for generations, he had left it in working order, along with some furniture—since, according to Riley, Saige was thinking of spending some time there when she wasn’t wandering all over the world, searching for her bits of junk. Everything else had been brought to Colorado, including some things that Elaina had apparently wanted Ian to have. Not that he’d been interested. He’d told Riley to throw whatever it was into storage, along with the rest of her stuff, which his brother had done. Then Riley had turned around and given him a set of keys to the storage unit, warning him that he might want to get his hands on whatever she’d left him someday.

      Considering what they’d just been through, it had seemed an odd thing to bring up, but then Ian had given up trying to figure out how Riley’s head worked a long time ago.

      â€œI told you I wasn’t interested in anything of Elaina’s,” he’d muttered, opening his door.

      Before he could climb out of the truck, Riley had reached over and grabbed hold of his arm. “I think maybe you should go out there.”

      â€œWhat the hell for?” he’d growled, pulling free of his brother’s grip.

      Riley had scowled as he’d slumped back against his seat. “If I told you, you’d never believe me,” he’d said with a hard sigh, sounding worn out. “Hell, I don’t even believe it myself. But if things…if things get weird, I’ll go out there with you. Help you find what she left for you.”

      Shaking his head, Ian had climbed out of the Bronco, slamming the door behind him. As he’d walked around the front of the truck, Riley had stuck his head out the driver’s side window and shouted for Ian not to go anywhere until he’d heard from him.

      Huh. As if he had the energy to go anywhere. Frustration had gnawed him down to the bone.

      Slamming his backside down on his sofa, Ian tossed his cell on the battered coffee table,


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