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“Yeah?”
“Cut internet and security cameras to Wisteria Suites and flicker the electricity in two minutes,” I state.
The storm provides an easy excuse for electricity issues, and having it come on and off causes far more anxiety and upheaval than merely cutting it. People adjust to constants after a few minutes. I’m counting on chaos until the cleaners arrive. They’ll handle it from there.
“Duration?” he asks.
“Keep cameras off for the night. Restore internet and electricity in forty-five.”
That’s plenty of time for them to set up shop here while the hotel is preoccupied in the frenzy. Restored electricity is necessary to adequately dry the flooded bathroom. If York needs further assistance, he’ll contact me.
“Done for the whole block,” Wells affirms. “I’ll intercept any call-ins.”
The Cabrini family, which Wells heads, handles data mining and power companies for KORT. It’s a handy domain to control.
Rex is awaiting my direction when I disconnect. Celeste’s purse, a box of cigars, and his gun are in his hands while guilt cloaks his entire demeanor. I’ll deal with his culpability once we reach the car.
Drawing my pistol again, I kick my chin toward the door to guide him that way. “Time to go.”
We halt our trek until the first flicker of electricity, check the hallway, usher Keith inside the room, and station Dante outside the door before heading for the blacked-out stairwell. With Celeste secure in my arms, I use the flashlight on the front of my gun to guide us down the stairwell and out a back exit into the blustery downpour, doing my best to shield her from the pelting rain.
When we reach the McLaren, I toss the keys to Rex, swing up the passenger door, and lower into the seat with Celeste, strapping the buckle over us both. It’s a two-seater, not that I would’ve been able to release my hold on her even if there was a back seat.
Rex accelerates toward the house, and Celeste nestles into me, faint winces and whines escaping her. I’d like nothing more than to simply provide comfort for her, but there are too many tasks that need conquered first. I use my phone to type out my extensive plotting instructions for York, sign in to Scott Filmore’s email account—not the first time—study his previous correspondences with Celeste’s grandfather, and formulate an appreciative response for Filmore to send to Mr. Carver later this evening.
We’re less than five minutes out, so I confront Rex, who has followed my lead since I arrived on that fucker’s floor, but that’s only half of what needs tackled. “Why doesn’t she wear a goddamn call bracelet if she’s allowed to just disappear into any asshole’s room for a whole fucking hour?”
Although my voice is controlled, it’s icy, and Celeste tenses in my arms. I can’t rein this in though.
“Frank never believed it was warranted, especially when the people she visited were vetted.” As if the angry sky objects to the bullshit he’s spewing, thunder crashes with a boom that pauses it. “Celeste values her freedom and pushes back when it’s infringed upon. He felt allotting her as much independence as possible would keep her from …” He can’t seem to find the word. That tends to happen when the argument is shit.
“You’re looking for rebelling, but surviving is what should be there.” My molars grind, fists flex, pulse soars in uncontainable agitation. “Her father knows the dangers. She should’ve had a gun on her or … Jesus fucking Christ!”
Rex says nothing. That’s a smart move because there is nothing he could say that would make me not want to rip his fucking throat out.
“You no longer work for Frank,” I inform him. “The three of you work for me now. Arnold too. Understood?”
His side-eye gaze coasts quickly over Celeste, who’s gripping my shirt like it’s a cord keeping her from free falling, before rising to mine. “Understood. Cee has always been, and always will be, my priority.”
“Good answer,” I grind out through my still-rigid jaw.
Fuck, I need to relax. When I press my lips to Celeste’s forehead, she frees a held breath, which gifts me an ounce of serenity to keep me from blowing up this whole fucking city.
“That response,” I continue, “the fact that my girl here loves you, and the revelation that Frank has given you asinine procedures to follow regarding her safety are the only reasons you are still breathing.”
He must discern how crazed I am because he remains quiet—again—as he veers to the driveway gate, which the guards open immediately.
But the thought of her perched on that countertop—beaten and immersed in steam, quaking in fear, eyes wild—has me making things crystal clear. “You do not answer a single fucking text from Frank or anyone in the Carver family without consulting me first. No one breathes a word of this evening. In fact, no communication with anyone unless I’ve approved it. After the cleanup, I’m taking your phones until we sort this out.”
He scoffs, throwing the car into Park. “Don’t waste your energy fighting us. That will do nothing for the girl in your arms. I’ve been watching over her for years. You aren’t the only one fucking torn up about tonight.” His hand scrubs over his mouth as he stares out the windshield into the stormy night, wipers squeaking a daunting tune. He’s barely holding it together, too, which enhances my respect for him. “I know I can speak for Dante, Keith, and Arnold when I say, Frank may sign our paychecks, but our loyalty is with Celeste. Always. So, point your goddamn rage somewhere useful. We’re already devoted to her.”
Amid my murderous mood, that performs as a mild sedative. “Better, Rex,” I commend him. “You’ll need that backbone with my crew. We aren’t pussies like Frank.”
With that, I carry my girl through the somber drizzle and into the house. She’s completely worn out, but I need to assess what degree of injury we’re dealing with before I let her rest. Wells yanks the front door open before I even ascend onto the porch.
“What the fuck happened?” he snaps, his hand weaving through his hair as he takes her in.
“Let’s get her upstairs first.” I maneuver past him, scaling the steps two at a time until I reach my room, pluck a T-shirt from one of my drawers, and sit with her on my bed.
