Page 3 of Fall of Hellfire (Hellfire Society #3)

three

ALI

T he longer I sit here the longer my own annoyance and rage build.

At the world I was born into, the life I was dealt, and the situations I was all but forced and thrown into as of late.

Hell, I’m even a bit mad at Cash, Arsen, and Riot for treating me like some damsel in distress.

I haven't made it this far in life because of any man. No, I’m a fucking badass because of me.

A knock at the door has me shooting daggers at the worn wood. I know it’s Shane probably just checking in on me, but now I’m pissed at him too. Actually, I’m mad at anyone who has a dick swinging between their legs. Fucking men.

"Hey Ali, you doing okay?" Somehow I glare even harder at the wooden surface, but I know being mad at everyone around me won't fix my current issues.

"Come in," I call out, not bothering to remove my feet from Shane's desk. Opening the door, Shane steps through the doorway, his eyes zeroing in on my boots before just shaking his head and turning his eyes to my face.

"I’m guessing the conversation didn't go as planned.

" He moves until he takes a seat across from me.

I give him a small shake of my head in answer before throwing my head back in frustration.

"Well, Evie stopped by again. She forgot her backpack.

I gave her your number and told her to call you if anything she can't handle happens.

I told her you would understand what she was going through.

" My eyes snap to Shane's face, but he doesn't give anything away.

Tilting my head, I focus on Shane, but then his words give me a spark of an idea.

A very bad idea but one that could fan out to some good information if I can execute it right.

Ethan mentioned how he and Richard had finally paid off their debt and were about to sit at the big table, which means the Blacks have been useful to the guys’ fathers, and they probably have a lot of info on them.

Pair all that with Shane's earlier words about Evie and a rough childhood so far, and a plan starts to form in my head.

He is right that I could understand what she is going through because I didn't have the best childhood growing up either.

My childhood was becoming a punching bag for my supposed family while Richard spent all his time in his home office with his perfect child, Ethan, “working”.

A home office that I bet holds tons of information that could be useful to me and my guys.

"Ali, what are you thinking of doing? Because I really don't like that look in your eye. It screams that you are about to do something really fucking stupid." Shane is leaning forward now, a worried look on his own face that has every right to be there.

"Can I borrow the truck again? I think I forgot some supplies," I say innocently before removing my feet and standing.

I do a quick stretch, then turn and hold out my hands expectantly.

Shane frowns, staring at me like he is trying to figure out my plan, but ultimately digs his keys out of his sweat pockets and hesitantly hands them over. He doesn't release them immediately.

"Look, I know you are going through a lot right now, but please don't do anything stupid.

" I return his stare for another long moment before nodding. I know he will think what I’m planning is stupid, but it's more than just collecting information at this point.

This is closure. He must see something on my face because he finally releases the keys and steps back, concern painting his features.

Not wanting to lie to him if he asks any more questions, I turn to the door and head to the front.

Pulling my phone back out as I go, I open the group chat and see Cash and Arsen have already texted, only a few minutes ago.

No word from Riot, but if I know that man at all, he’s probably knees deep in a pool of blood.

Plus, I don’t need to worry about him, the man is obsessed with me.

I doubt even death could keep him from somehow finding me.

CASH: Got what I needed. Taking the scenic route back now.

I don’t know what the scenic route is, but I’m guessing he is going to drive around for a bit before coming back.

ARSEN: Headed home. Found out something interesting.

If my plan goes well, I hope I’ll have some good information as well. I know I can't tell them where I’m going or what I plan to do. They wouldn't even listen to my reasoning if I brought it up, so I realize I have to lie. At least lying through the phone is easy.

ME: Okay. I’m grabbing the last of the supplies and then need to make one last stop.

But then I add a second text for good measure.

ME: See you all soon. *kissy face emoji*

Now, fingers crossed everything from here on out goes well.

T he entire drive to my destination, I go through my loosely thought-out plan over and over.

I used to know the ins and outs of the Black estate like the back of my hand when I lived there.

I had to. It was literally my job, but doing what I needed to do without being seen also made my life easier.

Less beatings and less bullshit I had to deal with.

This crazy idea of mine only works if nothing has changed over the last few years.

I park the truck a few blocks away. If I park it any closer, it will get noticed and seem out of place among the nice cars and houses.

The Blacks live in a nicer area than most, but not so nice that it’s gated.

I mean, they have guards that ride around on golf carts, driving up and down the different streets all day, but I can just say I’m new to the area and just taking a walk.

The walk in question takes me about ten minutes or so, but I keep a casual pace to not raise suspicions.

I even give a few neighbors a friendly wave as if I actually belong here.

As the Black estate comes into view, I speed up my pace, my eyes darting around for anything out of the ordinary.

Especially since I know Richard and Ethan were working with the guys’ dads, there’s a chance they decided to up security here as well.

When everything looks just about the same on the outside as it did the day I left, I take the chance and dart between a few oversized bushes that split the house from the neighbors.

I keep low, not wanting to chance being seen on a camera as I move toward the back of the property and toward where my father's office used to be.

He had a large sliding glass door installed when I was little, and for some reason, it was always unlocked.

I learned later that it was how the maids came in and out.

Well, the so-called maids, they were really fuck buddies that he didn't want to flaunt in front of Miranda, not that she didn't have her own.

When I get to the back of the house, I rush forward until I’m pressed flush against the brick wall.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly peek around the corner and pray no one is out back.

Luckily I don't see or hear anyone, so making my move, I creep around the corner and to where Richard's office once was.

This is where it gets really tricky. Just because the outside of the place hasn't changed doesn't mean the inside never did.

Miranda was always complaining about how they always needed to redecorate or refurnish something.

It takes me only a few steps to get to the glass door, but my luck continues with the blinds being cracked open, giving me a clear view of what is indeed still an office.

The layout has changed, but that's about it.

Using caution, I slowly reach for the handle and give it a swift jiggle.

It gives, letting me know it's unlocked, and I release the breath I didn't realize I was holding. Moving at a snail’s pace, I gently turn the handle all the way until there is a soft click and the door gives, allowing me to slide the door to the right and squeeze through.

Once inside, I freeze at the sound of voices coming from further in the house.

Turning towards the sound, I spot the office door sitting halfway open.

Shit. Ever so quietly I ease the sliding glass door closed, not wanting to give away my presence if anyone were to walk by.

I decide not to mess with the main door, not taking the chance at alerting someone if it creaks or, worse, someone sees that it's suddenly shut. So, I’ll just have to sneak around and stay as quiet as possible.

Keeping my steps slow and steady, I move to the filing cabinet closest to me first. Jiggling the handle, the metal makes a small thumping noise that has me tensing.

My entire body freezes as I strain to hear any movement that might be coming to inspect the sudden sound.

After a few moments of nothing happening, I abandon the filing cabinet idea and move to the desk.

I start by pulling out a few drawers, checking a few unlabeled files, and moving on.

I don’t find much, other than a few sticky notes with chicken scratch written across them, some pens, paperclips, and other useless office supplies.

I do find two small black flash drives and slip those into my back pocket.

Hopefully they hold something we can use.