Page 24

24

FAWN

T he Guerra mansion was in the oldest part of Providence. The houses here were huge, sprawling residences that all had acres of land around them. Tennis courts and swimming pools were all standard, and though the houses were often older, they were no less expensive because they weren’t modern.

There was an air of old wealth just driving through the nicely cleaned streets. The sidewalks weren’t cracked with weeds growing in between, as was common in Saint View, the town on the other side of the border. There were no junkies or prostitutes hanging out on street corners. There weren’t even cars parked on the roads, because these people had the luxury of garages to keep the rain and dirt off their hundred-thousand-dollar vehicles.

I didn’t ask my brother how he knew the code to get into Guerra’s gated community. He’d punched it in at the gates and waved to the bored-looking man sitting in a control booth like we had every right to be there at midnight.

There were some perks to having a family who’d spent most of their lives committing one crime or another. In the scheme of things my siblings had done, entering a gated community without permission was so low on the list you wouldn’t be able to see it without a magnifying glass.

Neither of them was happy I was here, their older sibling protective instincts too strong to ignore, but they hadn’t fought me.

I wasn’t stupid enough to think I knew how to do this better than they did. So when Vincent said I wouldn’t be just walking up to Guerra’s front door and asking for an audience with the man, I agreed to carry out my plan, his way.

I breathed out a slow breath, staring up at the clouds in the night sky, and hoped like hell this would work.

Zane, Vincent, and Ophelia all surrounded me. I couldn’t see them, but I knew that spread out around the Guerra mansion, hidden by the shadows, the others waited, quietly taking out Guerra’s security people one by one in silent attacks.

I held my breath as one of Guerra’s guys stepped out of the back door we watched, the glowing red light of a cigarette lighting up in the darkness, and the guy’s phone screen illuminating his face as he leaned back on the wall.

My brother moved so quickly and quietly, even I barely noticed him slipping through the darkness.

Neither did Guerra’s guard, until my brother tapped him on the shoulder.

And then punched him.

The guy crumpled to the ground, knocked out cold.

Ophelia sighed beside me. “That was such a Scythe move. Dammit, I hate that they swap so freely now.”

I didn’t. My brother was different than the last time I’d seen him. He was so much more at peace when he wasn’t constantly trying to fight himself. I was looking forward to getting to know both of his personalities better.

But right now, his dominant personality was doing a victory twerk over the guard’s body while motioning us over.

“He’s so embarrassing,” Ophelia muttered. “I really hope nobody else can see this.”

But she grabbed my arm, and we ran from the edge of the property to the back door where Scythe was waiting for us. Zane brought up the rear, he and Ophelia making sure I was protected between them.

Scythe grinned when we got there, and he pushed open the door the guard had left unlocked, since he was only ducking out for a smoke. I bit my lip and tried not to look down at the unconscious man at my feet. Because up close, he was more than just unconscious. He had a slash across his throat, his blood spilling into the grass.

I glanced at Scythe.

“What?” he whispered, feigning innocence. “I didn’t do it. He was like that when I got there.”

Ophelia waved a hand at him to shut up, and he winked at me, falling back into line behind Zane. Though not without curling his lip and snapping his teeth at Zane like a cranky dog.

I sighed, but there was no point trying to reason with my brother when he was like this. I’d try again with Vincent after all of this was over.

I stepped over the dead guard, reminding myself these weren’t good people. They trafficked women and children, and ending their lives meant others would be safe. But even that knowledge didn’t stop my gut from swirling with nausea at the unseeing eyes and unnatural angle of his head.

The door opened into a stairwell that led down to the basement. We’d known this, from the floor plans Boston had pulled up from somewhere on the internet before we’d left the house. It was why the four of us had picked this entry.

We’d figured most of Guerra’s security would be stationed outside the house. If the perimeter was protected, then there was no need for much in the way of security inside the home, and the man would probably want some sort of privacy.

Though we were almost certain Otis wasn’t at this residence, I’d wanted to check every floor. And starting with the basement had seemed like the best plan, slowly working our way through the living areas on the ground level, then finally up to Guerra’s bedroom on the second floor, where we presumed he’d be sleeping.

We’d have the element of surprise. I’d tell Guerra everything I knew about his wife and what she and Eddie were planning.

And then I’d pray like hell he had some way of tracking her. Surely the man had Find My Family enabled on his phone, at the very least.

It had seemed like a simple, proactive plan. We’d give Guerra something he wanted, and he’d give us something in return.

But I hadn’t counted on Ophelia stopping dead at the bottom of the stairs.

I hadn’t counted on the windowless basement being full of floor-to-ceiling cages, chains inside each one, like the padlocks might not have been enough to detain a person being kept inside.

My heart thumped. Too hard. And all too quickly, I was back in Eddie’s house, tethered like a dog, left there to die with my baby in my arms.

Zane’s voice was quiet in my ear. “You’re here with me. You’re not back there and you’re never going to be. This isn’t the same.”

My breaths came too fast, and I shook my head, too many memories I’d fought to keep out all rushing back in.

Being held in the dark.

Being hurt, beaten, and broken.

Him taking my body anytime, anyhow, anywhere, and me never having a say.

These cages were empty right now.

But I’d lived in one just like them.

The plan flew out of my head. I shook with a rage I couldn’t control.

Without even thinking about what I was going to do, I snatched the knife from my brother’s hand.

Some part of me knew he’d let me, because I would have never been quick enough to take it from him otherwise, but that only spurred me on. Zane followed close behind, Scythe right beside him, and this time, it was me they followed up the stairs. It was me who led the charge, blinders on because I was too blind with rage to take any of the care we’d talked about.

There was no sweeping of the main living area. There was no quiet sneaking up the stairs.

There was only a storm of hate for men who just took and took and took from women, like we were only put on this earth to serve their needs and wants and desires.

I knew exactly where the master bedroom was. I’d studied the floor plan, so my feet didn’t falter.

And neither did my grip on my brother’s knife.

I’d never used one on a human being. But I was quite sure that in that moment, I would if I had to.

I was that mad.

I pushed open Guerra’s bedroom door.

And found myself face to face with his gun. His fingers caught my wrist, digging in painfully, and I dropped the knife, my fingers refusing to hold on to it, even though I desperately wanted them to.

It hit the floor, and Guerra kicked it behind him before any of the rest of us could even move.

He was a slightly past middle-aged man with a pot belly, but it was suddenly very clear to me that Carlos Guerra wasn’t the sort of man who relied on his security team for his safety. He clearly knew how to handle himself a whole lot better than I did.

I’d made a rookie error. I’d let emotion fuel my actions.

Everyone stilled behind me, the weapon pressed to my forehead.

Ophelia sighed. “Honestly, Scythe. I blame you for this.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Scythe throw an irritated look over his shoulder at our older sister. “Why is it always my fault? I’m not the one who ran up those stairs like I was Rocky.” He huffed out a sigh. “Just blame the middle child for everything, why don’t you?”

Guerra raised an eyebrow in Scythe’s direction.

He shrugged. “I hope you don’t have sisters, bro. That’s all I’m saying.”

Scythe’s grunt of pain told me Ophelia had probably elbowed him in the kidneys.

To his credit, considering he was in silky, dark-blue pajamas, and we’d woken him up, Guerra seemed quite calm. “Why are you in my house, and what do you want?”

It was me who spoke. “I came to warn you. Your wife is going to try to take your life.”

A half-amused laugh spread across his thick lips. “Is that right?”

“She’s been cheating on you with my husband and she’s convinced him to kill you.”

I hated calling Eddie my husband, but I knew that here, tonight, the title would work in my favor.

His bushy eyebrow lifted. “And just who is your husband?”

“Eddie Sinclair.”

Any amusement in his expression disappeared. His eyes darkened, and he pressed the gun harder into my head. “You’re Eddie Sinclair’s wife? That traitorous fucking bastard, I should kill you now. Or better yet, you no doubt saw the chains and cages downstairs. I should put you in one of those and wait for the next auction. Your pretty face might as well make back some of the money your piece-of-shit husband owes me that I sent my wife to collect.”

Both Zane and Scythe moved behind me, but I spread my arms, holding both of them back, knowing if they stepped forward, the man would be dead in less than the time it took to blink. I’d seen the way Scythe had killed the guard outside. It was what he’d been trained his whole life to do, and having partners and children clearly hadn’t put that side of him to rest.

But I needed Guerra alive.

I needed him to know where Eddie and his wife were. And I prayed that Otis was still with them, and that they hadn’t already sold him off to the highest bidder, just so they had enough cash to go buy fucking McDonald’s for dinner.

I took a breath, dragging it in deep and holding it in my lungs until it burned.

I’d lost my head for a second. Let my anger and my memories cloud the one thing I had truly come here for.

I wasn’t here to take down Guerra’s trafficking ring. I wasn’t as stupid as Eddie. I knew if Guerra was dead, there would be someone else to take his place, and that it would never be a man like Eddie who nobody here respected or cared about. Only narcissists like my husband and Guerra’s wife could believe that.

All I wanted was my child.

And I was willing to do anything to get him back.

“Do you have children, Mr. Guerra?” I asked, ignoring his threats.

His gaze snapped back to mine. He said nothing, but I didn’t miss the flicker of something in his eyes.

Something that looked suspiciously like hurt.

It had been brief, but it had been there. “You have a son, right? And a daughter?”

I already knew he did. Hayden had told me.

So I just carried on, not waiting for his reply. “You know what it feels like to lose them.”

He shifted his weight. But I could tell he still wasn’t convinced. And so I dredged up every angry part of me, the parts I needed to be ruthless and hurtful, because it wasn’t in my nature. “I heard your wife say you can’t have any more kids. She went to my husband, begging him to give her one.”

His jaw clenched, his face turning a violent shade of red.

“Is that what you want?” I asked him. “You want her pregnant with another man’s baby? Trying to pass it off as yours after they put a bullet through your brain? Her bastard child trying to inherit money that should be for the two children who really are yours?”

“Damn,” Ophelia whispered behind me. “That’s cold, Fawn.”

But it did the trick.

Carlos Guerra lowered his gun. Anger in his eyes.

And I pressed on the weakness I’d created. “Tell us where your wife is, Carlos.”