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CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

ROMAN

I move into her line of vision, and with a finger under her chin, I close her mouth. Adjusting my hand, I grip her chin and kiss her.

Her eyes are closed when I pull back, and she slowly opens them. “What in the world, Roman?”

I know I’ve been a bastard to her about divulging what Blake and I do, but there is a reason. “Look, I know you’re confused, and I know you have questions?—”

“Many questions,” she says, interrupting me, and her brows furrow as her eyes look past me.

I give her chin a little shake, bringing her attention back to, then I nod. “Fine. I promise to answer them. But…after we find your father and JC is dealt with. Can you wait? Can you trust that Blake and I aren’t a threat to you, that what we do isn’t as bad as it looks, as bad as you think?”

Her eyes search mine, looking for something to convince her my words are true and she can trust them. There’s fear, confusion but also curiosity.

“Okay,” she says, and it’s almost a whisper.

“Okay?” I repeat, questioning the validity of her acquiescence.

“Okay, I can wait. Okay, I trust you both. And okay, I’ll keep an open mind.” She sighs. “I know you think I see the world in black and white, Roman, but I don’t. What Pa has done goes against God, but I wouldn’t be who I am today if he hadn’t. I’m prepared to look past the surface and see the depths below.”

“Fuck me,” I say.

“As much as the idea appeals to me, now isn’t the time,” she says, reaching up to kiss me quick. “Come on, let’s go see Robert, and hopefully, he’ll know where Pa is.”

I release her and step back. As I turn around, I adjust myself. She’s right, now isn’t the time. But I make another promise, a silent vow, to fuck her into oblivion later.

I grab two small handguns, bullet proof vests and a couple of weapons belts. Putting one of the belts on, I load it with ammo and a blade, plus two throwing knives. I lay the same on the table for Blake. Sydney watches me silently for a while before she moves around the room, inspecting the array of weapons.

“Sydney, come here,” I call to her once I’ve collected everything we’ll need.

She walks over and stops in front of me, scanning me from head to toe. I see the approval and lust in her eyes. She likes this. Not what I was expecting, and I doubt she did either. But it pleases me while easing some of my concern over what comes next. But her next words seal the deal.

“Brings a whole new meaning to dressed to kill, huh?” As soon as the words leave her, she slaps a hand over her mouth and her eyes grow wide.

I laugh and pull her hand from her face. “Nice, and yes, it does.”

She’s shaking her head, trying to deny the words came from her. “Oh, Lord, have mercy on me,” she pleads.

Footsteps come from the stairs, and a second later, Blake appears.

“We ready to roll?” he asks, taking in my smiling face and Sydney’s bright red one. “What’d I miss?”

“Sydney’s cracking jokes,” I tell him with a raised brow, knowing he’ll be as pleased and surprised as me at how well she’s taking this.

“Let me guess, dressed to kill?”

“How did you know that?” she asks around a laugh.

“Because I said the same to him the first time I saw him all kitted out. It’s hot, right?”

She shuffles awkwardly, folding her arms as her face flushes even more and nods. Blake steps to the table, pulling on his vest and attaching his belt as I put the smallest vest I could find on Sydney.

Once we are done, we head back upstairs to where Oz is waiting for us. He tosses a burner phone to me and one to Blake.

“Just in case,” he says. “I did a trace on Kincaid’s cell again, but it’s still off. And I’ve still got nothing on the other phone, but I’ll let you know if anything pops up.”

“Thanks, man,” Blake says, tucking the burner into a chest pocket on his vest.

We head to the garage, and I collect the keys for the black BMW. It’s one we use for jobs like this. Basic and less conspicuous. The plates are fake and are switched out after each use so the cops can’t trace it. I open the boot and pull out three plain black jumpers.

“Put this on,” I tell Sydney as I hand her one as Blake and I do the same.

Fifteen minutes later, we pull up outside Robert’s address. It’s a small semi-detached house in a relatively good neighbourhood. There’s a car parked on the drive, but it looks like it hasn’t moved in a while. At this time of day most people will be at work, so we should avoid any curtain twitchers.

Turning in my seat, I face Sydney. “You stay behind me, and do as we say, understand?” She nods. “I mean it, Sydney. We have no idea what’s inside or whether he’s friend or foe.”

“I got it, Roman. Stay behind you and be a good girl,” she says sarcastically.

Blake sniggers, and I send him a glare before getting out of the car.

The minute we reach the slightly open door, I know something isn’t right. I look at Blake behind me and signal to him.

“Robert?” I call as I push the door open further. Stepping inside, I draw my gun, and peer down the dingy hall. There are stairs to the left of me and single door on the right. “Robert,” I call again as I signal to Blake to check the room on the right. I hold a hand out behind me, seeking Sydney, and she grips my fingers for a moment before letting go. “Stay close,” I whisper.

“Empty,” comes Blake’s voice behind me, and I keep moving down the hall.

All the doors are open except the end one, which I’m guessing is the kitchen after checking each of the others I pass.

I call out again, and this time a muffled groan comes back. I listen at the door for a moment, long enough for Sydney to get impatient.

“What are you waiting for? He’s in there, Roman.”

“Yes, but I don’t know what the fuck is on the other side of this door,” I grit out between clenched teeth.

Blake pulls her back. “It could be a trap. Just give him a minute.”

With only muffled cries coming from inside, I slowly lower the handle. Opening the door a crack, I stop and wait again for any sound. Pushing it a little further open, I peer through the gap, but the angle only allows me to see a back door and not much else.

The cries coming from inside grow louder, and it sounds like he’s fighting against something. Another couple of inches and the corner of a table comes into view. Stepping back, I rest my toes against the bottom of the door, then I silently count to three before pushing my foot down and swinging the door open all the way.

In the time it takes for me to realise what I’m looking at, a clock chimes, drawing my attention. Lifting my eyes, I find a timer on the wall behind the table as it begins to count down five minutes.

A gasp comes from behind me as Sydney steps forward. “Oh my god!” she exclaims, attempting to push past me. “You have to free him. Roman, Blake, do something.”

I wish I could, but there is no way to stop what’s coming. All we can do is try to get as much information from him as possible before the timer runs down.