Free Revenge by Austin Winter

any sense. Why would someone fake their death and keep their real name?”
    “Who knows,” Luc answered. “Maybe I can find something more on it. Is there any other
li’l
secrets you found out, Anderson?”
    “That was about it until I could get here.”
    “Remy made a will, too.” Kim blurted out. “He left Cody with a lot of money.”
    Luc frowned. “A will?”
    Cody sighed. She hadn’t intended on showing the men the will . . . yet. She pulled her bag from under the chair, removed the document, and handed it to Luc. “I wasn’t supposed to get that unless he died. His lawyer decided not to wait.”
    After scanning the contents, he folded the sheet and handed it back to Cody. “We need to find him. What I suggest is you three comb the streets today. Pay special attention to Bourbon. If he’s after these people, he’ll start there.”
    Dread curdled like day-old milk in Cody’s gut. How did she expect to walk up and down the street and pass all those bars without the cravings hitting? A part of her hoped the men would venture along Bourbon and leave her and Kim to visit the less tempting areas.
    “What do you plan on doing?” Kim asked, her irritated tone snapping Cody out of her panic.
    Luc smiled. “Ms. Gregory, I need to get my equipment set up.” He looked at Heath. “Am I rooming with you?”
    “If you want. It’s kinda small for all your gear.”
    “Some of it can stay in the Escalade.” His attention swung back to Cody. “You brought us here. How far are you willing to take this?”
    “What do you mean?”
    He tapped the will. “What are you capable of doing to keep him from dying?”
    Same question Heath had asked. Her gaze flicked between Heath and Kim, then back to Luc. She could do this. Cody could face her fears and finally stop someone she loved from dying. Ribbons of steel threaded through her veins and wrapped around her spine. She straightened. “As far as I have to go.”
    • • •
    Cool water cascaded over the broken skin on his knuckles. Remy flexed his hand and curled it into a fist. The water ran pink, pooling in the white porcelain sink. He swallowed back the bile and closed his eyes against the images of him beating Eddy.
    Murderer.
    Killer.
    No! He slammed his fist on the counter. He wasn’t like them. Didn’t cross the line.
    Murderer.
    His eyes snapped open, and he scowled at his reflection. The dim lights revealed the blackness in his eyes, a blackness overtaking his soul. Turning from the mirror, he twisted the faucet off and dried his hands.
    Remy stepped into the bedroom and let his gaze wander from the mussed bed, along the walls, coming to rest on the cell phone sitting on the dresser. He ached to call her. Hear her voice and know he was doing this for the right reasons. For her. For them.
    His bare feet thud across the floor. He picked up the phone, his thumb poised over the numbers.
    Killer.
    Tremors took control. The phone slipped and clattered onto the dresser. He scraped his fingernails over his scalp and turned from the phone. A full-length image of his blood-spattered clothing greeted him. Fury filled his face. Remy jerked his shirt from his torso, wadded it into a ball and flung it at the mirror.
    A growl-hiss erupted from a streak of black and white. The cat darted through the cracked bedroom door.
    Stalking over, he slapped it closed and locked it. With a hand pressed to the wood, he hung his head and forced back the roar clawing at his throat. What was he doing? Beating the truth out of one man tore him to shreds. How would he survive killing Savard, then Alphonse?
    He banged his fist against the door. He couldn’t face Cody again with blood on his hands. Back to the wall, he slid down until he squatted. Elbows braced on his knees, he drove his fingers through his hair and cupped the back of his head.
    Faith he’d denied for so long rose inside him. It beckoned him to trust it again. Lean on something stronger and more powerful than himself. A