Page 87 of The First Cut

“Do you have any fucking clue what’s happening?”

“None, but my money’s on Driller. And if there's one thing I know about the prick, it’s that he hates his brother. He’ll hurt Nevaeh in front of him for maximum impact.”

Ferris snarls but doesn’t dispute my words as I pull into a long-ass driveway lined with trees.

“Should have taken the motherfucker out years ago,” he grunts.

“Khan protected him,” I remind him as he falls silent.

When a house comes into view, I drop the call and slow the bike until we come up on Nevaeh’s car and a sleek Camaro I climb off, and head for the house with my gun drawn, Ferris on my heels. We follow the noise into the kitchen.

Nevaeh stands frozen next to the kitchen counter, her hands over her mouth, a wooden pole at her feet. I do a brief scan of her, taking her in. See she looks mostly unhurt. My gaze drops to Havoc, who is straddling some guy and beating the absolute shit out of him.

“That’s not Driller,” Ferris states as I walk forward and grab Havoc’s arm. He fights me, but I tighten my grip and lean closer.

“Nevaeh needs you,” I growl at him.

He stops and looks over at her, his chest heaving, blood covering his clothes. I move back as he stands up and calls her name, but she’s completely zoned out. I worry she’s going into shock until Havoc calls her cupcake. She snaps out of it before she plows into him.

I leave them to have their moment as I bend down and check out the guy on the ground. A cry sounds from somewhere in the house, sending both Nevaeh and Havoc running from the room. I look at Ferris, who steps toward the hallway just as someone else comes tearing around the corner and up the stairs.

“What the fuck? Is that Ambros Deveraux?”

I shrug, turning back to the man. The lack of gunfire and screaming from upstairs tells me that Havoc has it under control, so I focus on the bloody mess of a man before me. Sliding my fingers around his neck, I press for his pulse but find nothing.

“He’s dead.” I get to my feet and take a step back as boots thump down the stairs once again, and Havoc storms into the room. He raises his foot and stomps on the dead guy with so much force, I’m surprised his head doesn’t pop like a watermelon.

“Havoc?”

He turns his head slowly to look at us, his face one of utter fury. “Nevaeh’s sister is upstairs with a shackle around her ankle and a child, I suspect is hers, strapped to her chest.”

“He kidnapped Nevaeh’s sister, too?” Ferris steps up, looking confused.

I stare at him in shock. Wasn’t she taken when she was just a kid?

“Yeah, Ferris. Fifteen years ago.”

His face pales as he looks at me, a wealth of knowledge passing between us. Yeah, that girl is going to be beyond fucked-up and need some serious therapy if she hopes to get through this.

“I need to find the key,” Havoc grunts, bending down and rummaging through the dead man’s pockets.

I pat my cut, feeling for my lock-picking kit. I pull it out and wave it at him. “Let me go look. I can pick most locks.”

“Just go careful. She’s terrified.”

I nod and head upstairs, spotting G in the doorway.

“Hey Hannibal, thanks for coming, man.”

I nod as I move past him and take in the woman who should be a mirror reflection of Nevaeh. Instead, she’s like a shadow.

I walk forward slowly. She whimpers like a wounded animal from the lap of the guy holding her.

“Ambros, I’m guessing?”

“Yeah,” he grunts out, smoothing his hand down the sister’s hair. “This is Citi. The little girl is Star.”

“Hey, Citi. I’m Hannibal. I’m going to try and get this shackle off you, okay?”