“Roger that.”
I shoved my phone into my pocket and yanked open the front door to find the last person I expected to see standing on Carrie’s porch.
Sarah Humbly.
Her hair was knotted on top of her head, and she was dressed in PJ’s, rain boots, and an overcoat that looked like it belonged to Michael. Her car was running, parked on the side of the road, and I could see her twins staring at the house. Sarah’s face was flushed, tears in her eyes, her body trembling.
“Grayson,” she breathed, her voice cracking.
My world began to spin. “Where’s Carrie?”
Sarah’s face crumbled. “She’s gone!” she screamed. “Someone came into the General Store and kidnapped her! Michael is there now. They—they shot Jimmy in the leg, Martha in the shoulder, and then grabbed Carrie!” She put her hands into her hair, her chest heaving as the beginning of a panic attack began to wash over her.
My heart exploded, pain searing through my body like hot pokers. I closed my eyes for a moment, grinding my molars. Panic wasn’t going get my woman back. Now wasn’t the time to feel.
It was time to be the man I’d always been.
I opened my eyes, pulled out my phone, and called Red Snake as I tried to keep my emotions at bay, Sarah pacing in front of me.
Ash answered on the second ring. “What do you need?” he asked.
“Red Snake,” I said into the phone, pain sparking through my body as fear coiled around my neck. “We have a code: Red fucking Snake.”
Epilogue
Monica
Monica Lark stepped into the back of the van, her eyes fixed on the plump, blonde, unconscious woman tied up on the floor. Her yellow coat had been pulled off and tossed to the other side of the van, her sweater ripped, but that wasn’t surprising. Monica knew the bitch would put up a fight.
“She’ll be out for the next five hours at least,” Brandon noted from behind her.
Monica turned to face him, the clouds darkening above them. Another storm was coming, and by the time it would hit, they would be long gone. She looked back down to Brandon, and from this angle, she had a good three feet on the man. She nodded. “Good.”
Strained silence followed.
Monica was tired. She wanted this to be over with, and she knew that involving Brandon might’ve been a little unhinged on her part, but she also knew she couldn’t pull this off on her own. She almost wanted to quit a few months ago, seeing Carrie surrounded by all her new friends in this ugly little town, and part of Monica wondered if she should just move on.
Deep down, she knew she couldn’t. Her love for Robert was stronger than her grief. In fact, it was the only thing that kept her going most days.
But Monica also knew that when Carrie Hale was finally dead, she could move on with her life. Plus, she’d never have to see her lover’s brother again. “Did she recognize you?” she asked him.
Brandon shook his head, scratching his gut. “No. Apparently, Robert never told her he had a fucking brother,” he told Monica with a sneer, the harshness of his voice pulling her away from her Robert-consumed thoughts.
No, of course, Robert wouldn’t have done that.
Monica knew he never told Carrie anything real, because he never loved her. He only married the blonde whore for her trust money anyways, plus the career advancement her father would’ve provided. Of course, all of that was before Mayor Gelling decided to dip his toes into child trafficking and mess with the Russian Mafia.
Because of his foolishness, ex-mayor Gelling was rotting in a Midwest prison, and Monica’s man was dead.
Anger stirred in Monica’s chest. She turned to look at Carrie one more time before she hopped down, her knees aching, her bones chilled from the frigid cold. Brandon stood by silently as she slammed the doors of the van with a grunt. “That bitch took everything from me,” she whispered, pain radiating in her chest.
“From both of us,” Brandon clarified.
Monica shot him a look. “You didn’t give two shits about Robert,” she snapped.
“I gave a fucking shit about the payout he promised me,” the man growled, looming over her. His hand gripped her arm, and he pointed, getting in her face. “Don’t fucking forget who called who, Monica. Without me, you would’ve never gotten a chance at revenge. You want that bitch to feel the pain you felt when you saw my dead brother on the news? Huh?”
Monica bit back her wince, ignoring Brandon’s harsh grip. “Of course I do,” she hissed.
Brandon yanked her to him, cupping her face with his hand. “Then learn your place. Remember who the fuck is in charge,” he whispered, his breath smelling of cigarettes.
Monica wanted to vomit, but she had to wait. Brandon needed an ego check, possibly a bullet in his head, but she needed to wait. Patience was a virtue, and she had to remember that this was for Robert.
She was avenging Robert.
She knew one thing for sure: the sooner Carrie Hale was dead, the better.
To be continued…
