Brayden read over the sentence in the Givens woman’s witness report for the fifth time. Hell, the words were just starting to run together.
“Fuck!” He slammed his fist on the desk, feeling a little better when his pen holder spilled over making a mess. He normally would have righted it straight away, but he didn’t give a shit at the mess.
Well, Dmetri had been wrong on one thing. Coming to work hadn’t gotten his mind off of Vanessa. How could it? He’d even gone over every piece of evidence they had on the Brunes case several times and still nothing popped. They couldn’t even try him on conspiracy to commit murder. The man had no evidence against him, yet Brayden’s gut told him Brunes did it. Maybe if he put enough pressure on him the man would pop and confess. It was looking like that was the only way this was going to work. Brunes was too smart and powerful to slip up. His influence had helped him to get away with the murder of his wife, but damn if Brayden would sit by and doing nothing now.
With that thought in mind, he packed up his briefcase and headed for Brunes’. The LED lights on his clock in the SUV stated it was nine o’clock. Not too late to make an official call, but too late to be polite. Fuck pleasantries, the man was a murderer. His hands tightened over the steering wheel. If he got lucky, Brunes might piss him off enough to start a fight. He could use a good fight to get the unsettled, anxious energy out of his blood.
It was late when he rolled up through the gated driveway of the Brunes mansion. Small spotlights lit the front and sides of the house as if trying to notify the world that a rich person lived there. As if they couldn’t already tell by his massive house. Just the drive to the house itself was ridiculous. Took a good couple minutes before he pulled up in front of the house and jumped out of his SUV.
Brayden strode to the door and without hesitating, beat his fist on it. On the third knock, the door swung open and the old butler waited there. His black suit jacket was off and the sleeves of his white button-down shirt were rolled up.
“How can I help you, sir?”
“I need to see King Brunes. Justicar matters.”
“I’m afraid Mr. Brunes isn’t taking any visitors now—”
Brayden shook his head, then pushed his way past the old man. He looked left and right, finding nothing but empty dark rooms. A deep voice came from the end of the hall. He followed it down to Brunes’ study.
“Uh, sir, I will have to call the Justicars if you do not leave. You are not welcome here.”
If the butler was going for threatening, he did a piss poor job. He sounded about as intimidating as a fledging kitten.
“Go ahead; I might need backup.”
“As you wish...” the butler’s voice trailed away.
Brayden paused in front of the double-wide study door. He cocked his ear to it as he glanced back up the hall. The butler had disappeared. Brunes was speaking inside, but almost as if on cue, the talking ceased once he listened. Brayden didn’t hesitate. His blood had been churning at a slow boil for days. Four days since Vanessa had been taken right from under him. Four days since he failed a woman that meant much more to him than he’d even realized, until she was gone. He opened the door and stepped inside.
The room was brightly lit. Every lamp turned on, even the grand crystal chandelier. Not a shadow appeared. Brunes stood in front of his desk, a small smile on his face. Brayden wanted to grapple the motherfucker to the ground, pound his fist into his face until bones cracked and blood spurted. Yeah, that was about the mood he was in right now.
“How unexpected, Justicar Brayden. What’s brought you all the way out here?”
Brayden took his time searching the room. Brunes wasn’t one to keep his back unwatched. He couldn’t see anyone, but that didn’t mean some guard wasn’t close.
“I think you know that already.”
“Then why did you even bother coming here? You and I both know you have no evidence to support your claims. You can’t prove a crime that I didn’t commit.”
Brayden walked to the center of the room. He didn’t want that door at his back. He stood so he kept an eye on Brunes, the windows behind him, and the door. “We both know you did it. Hell, even Sarina knows. What I want to know, is why.”
Brunes’ derisive chuckle skated along Brayden’s nerves like a serrated knife. He moved his tall body around the desk and folded himself into a chair. His smile was cold, but pleased. “My wife and I took a vacation. Left Sarina here with the butler, some guards, a nanny, that sort of thing. Clara and I had a steak meal that she cooked below deck on our yacht. We have a vacation home in Seattle. That’s where we keep our yacht, you know. That night we had dinner. I remember Bach or some such music playing over the system. I went below deck for another bottle of wine, came back and she was gone. That’s all there is to it, Brayden.”
Brayden stared at Brunes with hard, unrelenting eyes. “Do you know what I think?”
Brunes smiled. “Enlighten me, of course, but make it fast. This has been a very rude interruption and know that I am only flattering you with this conversation to be polite.”
Yeah, right. “I think that you learned that your wife had been sneaking out while you were gone on your business trips with council. I think you found out that she’d been spreading her legs open for an eager vampire, one who was more than happy to give her the pleasure you couldn’t.” Brayden paused to let his words sink in. He’d struck a chord. Brunes stiffed in his chair, his lips pulling into a nasty frown, his face deepening with color. “I think she was fucking him all the time. Maybe even sharing her dreams of being free of the great King Brunes. Does that sound about right? Though I do wonder, what makes you angrier? That she was fucking a lousy vampire behind your back, or that she took her daughter to meet him. After all, she was a protective woman, never left her child alone, even in your care. Your own wife didn’t trust you around your daughter. That says something to me, Brunes.”
Brayden took in Brunes’ facial expressions, his tics. He’d finally found a way to apply pressure to the bastard. Most of what he’d just said was pure speculation, part bullshit. There was never any sign that Clara had had an affair, but she might have. And judging from the reddening of Brunes’ face, Brayden had hit the mark spot-on.
“So, let me keep guessing. She finally told you that she wanted to leave you. You threw in the fact that she’d never get custody of Sarina...but then what? How did you get her to agree to the vacation? I doubt she trusted you further than she could throw you if she was smart enough to try to leave you. So, explain to me, just how did you get her to go with you? Did you drug her and fly her out to Seattle on your own private plane? I checked your assets; you do own one. Was your excuse that night all bullshit? No dinner, no wine. You took her out on your yacht with a story you concocted, then beat her ’till she was unconscious and tossed her over the side. Lykaens aren’t impervious to drowning and you damn well knew that. You killed her.”
Brunes’ face paled back to its normal color. He looked down as if thinking...or remembering. “You think you got it all figured out, don’t you, Mr. Erickson?” Brunes stood, his arms crossed, then slowly stepped around the desk until he faced Brayden once more. “Well, you’re wrong about a few things, I’m afraid.”
Brunes uncrossed his arms then leveled a silver pistol on him. Brayden’s only response to the change in the game was a soft breath he let out. Brunes waved the gun around like a witch with a wand.
“Don’t worry, they’re silver infused bullets, just like the Justicars use. They’ll kill you before you can get to me.”
Brayden kept his gaze on the door to his right. “What was I wrong about?”