Then he smelled gasoline, then the acrid smell of burning tinder and he knew.

I’m going to die. He closed his eyes, cursing the men he’d protected for so long. Thirteen years he’d kept the secret. Now… I’ll see you all in hell.

He stood on the road, fists on his hips, watching the fire licking around the car below. He could feel the heat from where he stood. Someone would come soon. He put the gas can in his trunk and drove away. Bye, Igor. You stupid sonofabitch.

He swallowed as he drove. They had numbered seven once. Now they were three.

He’d been responsible for the elimination of two of them. DJ’s body had never been found. He remembered the sulfur smell of the swamp, the splash as he’d chucked DJ’s body over the side of his boat. He imagined a gator had feasted that night.

DJ had been a liability. The gambling, the liquor, the women. Lots of women. They hadn’t nicknamed Jared O’Brien “Don Juan” for nothing. Jared had gone off on rants when he got drunk. It had been only a matter of time before he exposed them all. It had been Jared or the rest of them. The choice hadn’t been that difficult.

Somehow killing Igor had been a lot harder. When the fire was done with Rhett Porter, there wouldn’t be much of his body left either. So it all amounted to the same difference, except that somewhere a gator was going to bed with an empty stomach.

He thought of the other two that were now gone. Daniel Vartanian had taken down Ahab. Of course they’d never called Simon that to his face. Simon had been a scary SOB, his peg leg just one of many untouchable subjects. He remembered the day they’d buried Simon the first time. The relief they’d all felt, but no one had voiced.

And the other? It had only been a matter of time. He was frankly shocked Po’boy had lived as long as he had, dodging bullets in every godforsaken war zone on the planet. Finally it had been an Iraqi insurgent that had taken Wade out. He’d first felt relief at the news that Dutton’s war hero was coming home in a box. For years Wade Crighton had been an unsnipped thread, the only one of them to leave the town, the only one of them out of the sight and control of the others.

Well, except for Simon, he thought. They’d thought they’d been safe with him dead all those years. He supposed they should thank Daniel Vartanian for killing the scary SOB once and for all, but the thought of thanking Daniel Vartanian for anything made him sick. Simon had been scary, but Daniel was smug and that made him angry.

Now both Simon and Wade were gone, as were Rhett and Jared.

Now they numbered only three. Both Simon and Wade had died beyond his reach, leaving the whereabouts of their keys in question. A week ago he would have thought finding their keys would solve all of his problems. But now the keys were the least of his problems.

Janet and Claudia, both dead, found just like Alicia Tremaine. And I didn’t kill them. Neither had his boss. I was an idiot to ever think that he would. Harvard was sick and twisted, but not stupid.

They’d all been stupid kids, but now they were men. Leaders of the community. They’d managed this uneasy truce among themselves for years, no one wanting to lose the lives they’d built for themselves. The respectability they’d earned.

Somebody else had killed Janet and Claudia, someone who’d mimicked Alicia Tremaine’s death down to the smallest detail. It might have been a copycat.

Except that somebody knew about the keys. Somebody was taunting them. He thought of Rhett Porter. Somebody wanted them to panic. Rhett had panicked and now he was dead.

Now they were three. If no one else panicked, there was no way anyone else would find out, no way they could be linked to Alicia Tremaine.

Because they hadn’t killed her. They’d raped Alicia Tremaine, but they hadn’t killed her nor had they dumped her blanket-wrapped body in a ditch. The man that had killed Alicia Tremaine had been rotting behind bars for thirteen years. No one could pin anything on them now, as long as they stayed calm. They just needed to stay calm.

Stay calm. And think. He needed to find out who was killing these women before Vartanian did. If Vartanian got to this bastard first… Whoever had killed Janet and Claudia knew about the club. The bastard would tell. And everything they’d built for themselves would be taken away. Destroyed.

I need to find out what the hell Daniel Vartanian knows. Why had Vartanian, of all people, been assigned to this case? Did Vartanian know? Did he know about Simon… and us? Had Vartanian found Simon’s key?

He gritted his teeth and tapped his brakes. The car in front of him was crawling, in no hurry at all. He flashed his headlights and immediately the car changed lanes, allowing him to pass. Better.

He focused on the open road ahead. It helped him to clear his mind, to think. If Vartanian suspected anything, he wasn’t saying, but Daniel had always been the closemouthed kind. Scary in his own way with those eyes of his.

And Vartanian had taken up with Alex Fallon, a major problem in her own right. Even if they found out who’d killed Janet and Claudia, the damage had been done. Everyone was talking about Alicia Tremaine, how she’d died. And now, having Alex Fallon walking around town, looking so much like Alicia, it was just fanning the flames.

Alex Fallon was walking around town because Bailey was still missing. He no longer had control over what happened to Bailey Crighton, but he did have control over what happened to Alex Fallon. His guy had fucked up big-time this afternoon. The man was only supposed to watch Fallon, report back, stop her from talking to the wrong people. He’d never intended him to run her down in the street. There were other, more discreet ways of making people go away.

This he knew. He’d get rid of Alex Fallon, discreetly. Then he’d find out who was taunting them with dead women and keys. Before Vartanian got to the bastard first.

Because if Daniel found out what had really happened, nothing else would matter. They’d go to prison. I’ll die first. He pressed the accelerator to the floor, speeding back to town. He had no intention of going to prison or dying first. He had work to do.

Mack lowered his camera, a grim smile on his face. He’d known they’d turn on each other. He hadn’t expected it so quickly. But any time any of the four had taken a drive out of town in the last month, Mack had followed. Usually he was rewarded with wonderful new secrets he knew none of the men would want revealed, and of course tonight had been no exception.

Now the four were three and Mack was one step closer to the culmination of his dream. He clicked through the photos he’d just taken. His plan for the remaining three was solid, but these photos would make for a handy Plan B should his base plan fall apart. Always have a contingency, a back door, an escape hatch. A Plan B. Just another one of those prison lessons he’d learned well.

Speaking of lessons, he had another to deliver. In a few hours, he’d be the proud owner of one more girl and a very nice ’Vette.