“Malek. We’re here. Shipment’s waitin’. Are you bringin’ O’Dell?”
Jonas’s face paled and his brows fell. The cameras we had at McKinley’s warehouse finally popped on screen. Poetic, in my fucking opinion.
“Oh, I am. Just wanted to see if you were sure about your recipients.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because, mate. They’re not in the business of suckin’ the cock of their enemies. Your trade lines are done. Your deals are squared up. You’re outta friends, and you’re also outta time. Shoulda learned some loyalty, Ace. At least you were right about one thing.” A ten second timer started counting down in the corner of Declan’s screen. “The lot of you shoulda been more worried about me. Burn bright, bitch.”
“You fuckin’ son of—”The warehouse exploded, every gun and soul inside along with it, and the camera sputtered for a split second while a cloud of fire and debris battered it. The line went dead, and I lowered the phone from my bloody ear.
Jonas had about two seconds to finish watching his world come crashing down and Bridget didn’t hesitate. She closed the space, and plunged the knife up through his chin, the other up into his groin, staring into his wide eyes like a starving animal until he stopped gurgling. Wasn’t as theatrical as I would have liked, but for her first hit…I’m damn proud. And I hope she never has to do it again. She let go of the handles and let him slump to the floor, stepping backwards until her back pressed into me.
“Take several pictures of that,” she breathed. I eased an arm around her, clutching her to me, and took the photos over her shoulder. “Get the key out of his left pocket. Is he tellin’ the truth, Malek? About Daddy?”
“I dunno. But I need you to show me where they’re keepin’ her before we figure it out.”
She turned in my arm, and her lip quivered. I can’t tell if it’s because she realizes what she just did, or if it’s because of everything…but Declan is audibly losing his nerve next to me. “She knows, Mal. About Shavonn…”
…Fuck…I’m…fuck.
I don’t know what to say. I don’t know if she’s trying to tell me Seven heard the truth from her own mouth, or if it came from one of these fools. I should have told her. I was going to…fuck, I was going to this morning. I just never got the chance. I didn’t get the chance to wake up next to her after deciding that I’d come clean. Bridget kissed my cheek and went straight into Declan’s arms. Not sure what’s surprising me more right now. She planted both bloody hands on his face and now I understand why she gets nauseous and throws a fit whenever she’s bearing witness to anything remotely intimate in my regard. I’m gonna puke. And I kinda wanna gut him.
But it somehow makes all the sense in the world…
“Shamrock!” We all turned towards the door, and one of Vincent’s guys popped through it with an arm full of looted shit. “House is clear, except for the basement. We can’t get in it. It’s a reinforced metal door. But, Vinny said to tell you Miguel and the others have the two old guys from the photos. They’re tied up in a fancy office down this hallway.”
“She’s down there.” Bridget pulled away from Declan and knelt next to Jonas’s very unclean body, digging through his pocket. She tossed me a set of keys. “One should open the big door; the other one will get her out.”
“Did anybody find Zane? The buff one?” I asked.
“Nope. We looked. If he hasn’t snuck out, he’s gotta be down below.” I nodded at Edward Cullen, and he disappeared down the hall.
“Take care of my sister, or I’ll have fun carvin’ your heart out, Declan.” Bridget crossed her arms and threw a hip out, giving me the finger.
“If I fail, I’ll let ya, mate.”
“Want us to back you?” Bridget asked.
“No…no, this I’m doin’ alone.”
I dug my knives out of Jonas and didn’t say another word, flying down the main staircase and following the blueprint I’ve committed to memory down to the lower level.
…I’m one step closer to the end of our deal…and I’m terrified.
CHAPTER 25
The Mortician
Does anyone else have a thing about their feet or hands being dirty? Well, I do. I’ve been staring at the nauseating state of my feet, wiggling life back into my toes every few minutes. I’d rather not know how many people have been in this hole or what happened to them, and I’m sure I’ve probably cleaned worse, but…whatever is on this floor is caked to my soles and I shudder to think about the kind of rot it’ll cause. I’m past the point of being cold. My stomach started eating itself hours ago, and if I so much as picture Emmy or Vivian…or anyone else in that house…
I’m sinking into madness, and it hasn’t even been a whole twenty-four hours.
They took Bridget to God only knows where. At this point, if anybody ever comes back in here, I’ve decided I’m gonna tell them where to find Kendall. If I end up in another box, so be it. At least I’ll have clothes and three shitty meals a day. And at least I’ll have a toilet. Amazing, the shit we take for granted. None of this is worth my family. Especially when none of this was more than a couple of incredible fucks with a guy just as unstable as me. I do deserve this, despite what Bridge thinks. Jonas gave me twelve hours, and I don’t even know how many of them are left. For the first time…death does seem a little different. A lot different where it concerns the people I love most, and their blood staining my hands for the rest of my existence. Mrs. Porter would be shaking her head at me right now.
The sound of the door clanging down the hall startled me, but I don’t have the will to move. I rested the back of my head against the wall and turned it to watch the door to my cell. It’s not Jonas. It’s the other one. I don’t even remember his name.
“Smells of pish in here. Well done. Made it to the level lower than dog shite.” I stared blankly at the bastard. I’m not in the mood. “Must be pretty hungry by now.”
