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Regrets wormed their way into my mind about the same time as visions of a bleeding Mari rushed through my head. I should’ve pushed harder to go with her, not taken no for an answer. My only excuse was I wasn’t awake, and she’d already been out of the house when she’d let me know what was going down.
Never again, I vowed. It was Mari’s choice, but I’d do my damnedest to make it happen. If she let me, I was going to be so far up her ass, she’d have to pry me off like a barnacle if she wanted space.
Raking a hand through my hair, I felt my fingers clenching at the strands as the urge to call her nagged at me until I couldn’t take it anymore. The first glimpse of dawn crested the horizon as I pulled up her number and hit send.
Voice mail.
I did it again. Same thing. They were busy, I knew that, but I couldn’t help myself as I did the same to Dominic, then Greyson. Hell, I even called Moore.
No one answered.
The unease twisted harder, like a wraith trapped beneath my skin. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.
“Fuck it.”
I ran for the living room, running my fingers over every nook and cranny to find the weapons cache I knew was there. I wasn’t an idiot. This was a kingpin’s home; there were guns everywhere, and I just had to find one. Then I could go find my girl.
Not your girl, the little voice in my head reminded me, but I shoved it aside as I kept looking.
I was on the second to last piece of furniture, a side table next to the window, when I felt the slight give of a hidden drawer. It took a minute, but I pried it open just as someone knocked on the front door. Knowing it could be Aces coming for the Marcosa seat of power while Mari was occupied, I prepared to do battle.
Running through the motions to arm myself was like riding a bike, and I stuffed my pockets with extra ammo before closing the hidden safe again. If it was one against a dozen, I doubted I’d survive, but at least I wouldn’t let them take Mari’s home without taking some of them with me.
If that was all I could do, I’d do it well.
Another knock brought the sound of tense footsteps from the back of the house as Amara went to answer. She caught sight of me, armed and admittedly semi-feral, and blanched. Holding up a hand, I motioned her back and away from the door. Once she realized I wasn’t armed against her, she nodded and retreated to the kitchen, where I was sure she had her favorite toys stashed too. She wasn’t the type to let someone trash a home that was just as much hers as it was Mari’s.
Gun at my side, I opened the door a crack, surprised when instead of the pack of Aces ready to knock down the door and take what was Mari’s, it was a girl.
A glance showed she wasn’t much younger than me. Twenty-two at least, but she had that air of sadness about her that made people seem younger. More fragile. She twisted a bracelet around and around her wrist like it was her version of a worry stone. Gaunt cheeks and hollow eyes set into skin that looked unnaturally pale for her skin tone made me wonder when she’d last seen the sun. Even the clothes on her body didn’t fit right, though they were streamlined and expensive.
Honestly, she looked like shit. I could relate.
Apparently, she wasn’t expecting me either because she stepped back, eyes darting around me like she was looking for anyone else. When she didn’t find whoever it was, she squared her shoulders. “Is she here?”
My default setting was distrust, and something about her had me on edge. Tucking the gun into my pants casually, I crossed my arms and spread my feet, taking up more space in the doorway. “Who the hell are you?”
“Sabine.” She said it like I should know who she was and deflated slightly when she realized I didn’t. Nerves had her craning her neck around me, and I shifted to keep her line of sight on me and only me. With a raised eyebrow, I made it clear she wasn’t getting past unless I let her. She nodded to herself, almost like she expected it. “Is she here?”
She. Mari. That was twice she’d asked, and the cramping in my gut was getting worse. I was going to need an entire roll of antacids by the time my girl got home.
“No, she’s not.”
She nodded, looking again like she’d expected it, and that set me on edge. I looked at the girl—Sabine—over again, closer this time. Tear tracks marred her face, and deep regret was heavy in her eyes. Something about it and the soul-sucking feeling of despair in the air make my jaw clench.
There were times when you were on a mission and everything seemed fine. Normal, even. Then your gut started screaming at you to get down, get out, get gone. You’d be a mile away when a bomb went off or found out later that someone got shot where you’d been standing, or you’d go to clean your weapon, only to find it primed to misfire. The subconscious saw more than the conscious mind could ever dream of, and it was an unspoken rule that if your instincts were screaming at you, you fucking listened.
After years of experience, my gut was well honed, and it said that whoever this Sabine was, she knew something about what had happened to Mari.
Yanking her inside, I slammed the door and locked it before I dragged her farther into the house. She hung limp in my grasp like a kitten with its scruff caught, and my teeth ground at the submissive move that screamed of guilt.
Only when we were in the living room did I drop her arm and step back. Deep breaths filled my lungs as I tried—and failed—to calm myself. Couldn’t get information out of her if I lost my cool. “What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“Let me make one thing clear—I don’t do lies. I may be new here, but I wasn’t born yesterday. Mari hasn’t come home yet, and I know you know why. So save us all time and tell me what happened.”
“I didn’t do anything,” she insisted. “She should be here.”
