Searching for Winslet (Fallport Rescue Operations #5)

Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The last thing Jett wanted to do was leave Winslet in the family room with her dad and a loaded gun. But he needed his weapon and his cell. It was the only way. He sent off a quick text to Weston and Haven, letting them know the situation, copying Zeke and the gang. Then he went about making coffee, snagging a few bagels, and making sure his weapon was loaded and tucked in his ankle holster before returning to the family room where Thomas sat on the recliner, his gun in his lap. Winslet was on the sofa with her feet curled up under her butt.

He placed the tray on the coffee table as if this were a normal morning with his girlfriend’s father.

There was nothing normal about this.

“Shall we start from the beginning?” He lifted his coffee, blew into the steaming mug, and took a slow sip, letting it burn the roof of his mouth. For whatever reason, it needed to do that. It reminded him he was alive.

He’d hoped this move—this job—would mean no more bullets flying in his direction.

No more near-death experiences.

He planned on that last one to hold true.

But he sure as shit would step between Thomas and Winslet if he had to. No way would he let anything happen to the woman he loved.

How crazy was that?

“It’s a simple story, really,” her dad said in a monotone voice, void of emotion.

Damn, was that how he sounded when he spoke of his past? If it was, he totally understood why people thought he was way too pragmatic about things. He had a shit ton of feelings swirling around in his soul about his life. His past relationships. His life events. His logical brain was his way to deal with the pain.

Dumb way to do that.

“People in this town have forgotten what a mean man my dad could be,” her father said. “Even Cooper knew what a jerk my dad could be, but they were friends, and he wants to only remember the good times. Not the times he would rage on my mother.” Thomas waved his weapon in the air. “My mom was no saint. She started having an affair with my dad’s brother when I was ten. Maybe even younger. I’m not sure. But that’s when I learned about it.”

Jett wanted to say that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, but he knew better. It wouldn’t help the situation, and it would only serve to make Winslet feel worse about what happened with Shamus.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Winslet said. “But you getting upset over your mom having an affair is hypocritical.”

Thomas pulled his lips into a hard line. “I honestly didn’t care. I sure as hell didn’t tell my father. I didn’t want them to get divorced and neither did my dad. He wanted them to stay a family. He even told my mom she could fuck whoever she wanted as long as they were discreet and no one knew. But my mom wanted to run off with Uncle Xavier. They planned the whole thing and what I didn’t know was that Hannah Wilks was going to help her.”

“So, this is why you’ve hated your uncle all these years,” Winslet said.

Her dad nodded.

“Did you ever confront Xavier about it?”

“No,” her father said. “He was a sad and pathetic loser. He acted like he cared about my father’s disappearance. He cried over it even. But really, the only thing he cared about was my mother being dead and the fact he was stuck with me.”

“Did he suspect you?” Jett asked.

“I have no idea. When I turned eighteen, I moved out.” Her dad shrugged. “Until he started to lose his mind, we stayed clear of each other.”

“Did Cooper know all this?” Jett asked.

“I don’t think so, because if he did, he would have told the police. But that’s why Hannah showed up that morning. I had already disposed of my father’s body and was getting ready to deal with my mom when Hannah came bouncing into the kitchen, ready to help my mother with her exit strategy. Whatever the fuck that meant.”

“Jesus,” Winslet muttered. “I need to know what you saw. Grandma was shot in the back. Why did Grandpa do that? And why did you kill Grandpa?”

“Does it matter?” Her father jumped to his feet.

“Yes,” Winslet said. “Motive matters. If I’m going to redirect, I need all the information.”

Jett had heard enough. He didn’t need any more information. What he needed was the cavalry.

But he wouldn’t deny Winslet her answers.

However, the gun being waved frantically about the apartment made him more than nervous. Thomas was a fucking loose cannon. He killed once before, and he’d do it again. Especially when backed in a corner.

Jett didn’t need to be a cop to know that.

“My folks were fighting about Uncle Xavier. I could hear them. I came downstairs because I was tired of it. I told them to shut up.” Thomas swiped at his eyes with his free hand. Tears rolled down his cheeks. “My dad’s gun was in the corner by the door. I picked it up. I yelled at them to get their shit together. I told them I didn’t care about any of it. All I wanted was a family. My mother tried to explain that we could be a family even if my parents weren’t married. My dad said he’d never give her a divorce. That one of them would have to be dead for their marriage to end. My mother looked him square in the eye and told him it was over. She was leaving and there was nothing he could do about it.” Thomas paced in front of the coffee table. He pointed the gun between Jett and Winslet. His eyes turned from gut-wrenching sadness to rage in a split second.

Jett eased from the sofa. He knew that what Thomas had stated earlier had been a lie.

Marcus hadn’t killed Lola.

Thomas wanted that to be the truth. Perhaps he’d buried that so deep in his psyche that for all these years he believed it. But now he had no choice but to face the reality.

“My mom turned her back on us. She fucking turned around as if we weren’t even standing there. It was like we didn’t even matter. Like she didn’t even care we existed.” Thomas paused. He held his weapon steady. Aimed right for Winslet. “My dad looked at me as I raised the rifle. He came toward me. I think he said something as he reached for the gun. It went off. Twice. He shot her in the back. She crumpled to the ground. I was so stunned. I looked down. My fingers were still gripping the cold metal. He accused me of doing it. But he was coming for the rifle. I was trying to stop him from taking it and killing her. It was all his fault. I raised it and shot him once in the center of his chest. That’s all it took.” Thomas sighed. “Hannah showed up hours later. I had no choice. I’m sorry about that.” He narrowed his stare, jaunting his weapon forward. “Now you know the sordid truth. Make it go away. Help me end this and talk your mother out of leaving me. We’re a family. No matter what, we belong together. You may not understand this, but I love your mom. She’s my world.”

“You have a funny way of showing it,” Winslet whispered.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Thomas gripped the handle with two hands. “I’ve given your mother everything and she’s going to leave me now? I don’t think so. Call Weston. Tell him it would be impossible for me to have killed any of them. Do it, or this ends badly for both of you.”

“Do not threaten her. Or me for that matter.” Jett reached for his gun strapped to his ankle.

Bang.

Fuck.

A searing pain tore through his shoulder. He jerked back, stumbling to the sofa, landing on top of Winslet.

She screamed.

The sound of the front door cracking open—no, more like being knocked down—shattered his ears.

“Drop your weapon,” Weston’s voice rang out.

“Don’t move,” Haven said, inching closer. “We’ve got this building surrounded.”

“You’re under arrest.” Weston plucked the gun from Thomas’ hand and pushed him to the ground.

Jett blinked. His arm went numb. But his shoulder felt as though something had severed it from his body. A little dramatic, and it wasn’t true, but that didn’t change the pain registering in his brain.

Winslet pressed her hand on the wound. “He fucking shot you.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” he managed through labored breaths. “This is my good shoulder too. Well, it’s better than the other one in the sense that I’ve less surgeries on it.”

“Please don’t make jokes.” Winslet leaned over and kissed his forehead. “Although, at least it was your shoulder and not your chest.”

“Yeah. That’s looking at the bright side of things.” He winced as she put more pressure on his shoulder. He glanced down. Blood trickled through her fingers. Damn, that was a lot of blood. He heard more voices in the background.

Zeke maybe. Definitely Tal and his buddy Lincoln. Those two were easy to pick out of a crowd because of their British accents.

“What the hell, man,” Zeke said, standing over him. “Why am I always sitting at your bedside after you get shot?”

“At least this one isn’t life or death.” His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. “I think.”

“You’ve been through worse.” Zeke squeezed his good shoulder. “I’m going to help Weston with a few things, and then I’ll see you shortly.”

“Thanks.” Jett gave Zeke a weak smile.

“You’re going to be fine.” Winslet palmed his cheek.

“I’m sorry.”

She narrowed her eyes. “For what?”

“For getting shot. For not being able to be with you for the next few hours, or maybe even the next day or two to deal with the fallout of this.” His eyes burned. “Maybe I should have tried to disarm him?—”

“Stop that.” She kissed his lips. “We didn’t know he’d go off. He’s my father and I had no idea.”

“Ma’am. We need to get an IV going on him and transport him to the hospital,” someone said.

“Oh fun. I get the good drugs,” he whispered.

“Yes, sir. You do,” the EMT said. “Some real good stuff.”

“Can I ride with him?” Winslet asked.

“Sure thing. But once I give him some pain meds, he’s going to be real loopy,” the EMT said.

“You’re making a mistake,” Thomas yelled. “This was all a misunderstanding. I didn’t mean for the gun to go off.”

Jett rolled his head. What a horrible day for Winslet. So much pain. She’d been through so much and to add this to it all? It had to be too much for her. She would for sure bolt out of this town as fast as she could. He let out a long breath. He couldn’t blame her for that. He’d probably do the same thing.

His mind raced with a million things.

He loved her.

He should follow her wherever she went.

Yeah. That’s what he should do. He loved Fallport. But he loved her more.