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“One,” Rowe said calmly in his ear. The man could have been counting sheep for all the inflection in his voice.
Royce mounted the stairs and carefully stepped over the dead man. He didn’t recognize him. Didn’t know if they were related and he didn’t care. The bastard had been standing between him and his mother. A second later, Garrett was coming up the porch behind him.
“Two down in the rear,” Sven said. “Entering now.”
“Sweeping west. Moving to clean out the master suite,” Garrett replied as he entered behind Royce.
Somewhere in the house, they could hear the soft tinkle of glass breaking. “Got one in the little room off the master bedroom,” Noah added. “Annnnd…another in the master bedroom with the candlestick holder.”
“Thanks for the update, Colonel Mustard,” Rowe said.
“Anything for you, Mrs. Peacock.”
“Fuck you.”
“If we’re picking code names now, I’m claiming Miss Scarlett,” Garrett whispered, while Royce watched him head to his left into what appeared to be an elegant library with dark wood bookshelves. “That woman had style.”
“I don’t get the reference,” Sven said. A second later there was a muffled shot, followed by shouting and more shots. These were loud, answering shots. Corbin’s men had finally figured out that the house was being attacked. “One down, but I’m taking heavy fire in the kitchen.”
“I’m on the move,” Noah said. There was a slight strain in his voice as if he were hurrying to climb down from his perch on the cabana roof. “I’ll have a shot in less than a minute through the family room windows.”
“I’m coming, Larsen,” Royce said. He’d taken two steps toward the grand staircase and then stopped, turning to the dining room that would lead back into the kitchen.
“No! Stick to the plan,” Rowe barked.
Royce hesitated. He needed to get to his mother while the house was in chaos, but he didn’t know how many people were targeting Sven. He couldn’t leave the man helpless and in danger. Not when he was so close.
“Go, Royce. I’m okay,” Sven said. Sven’s words were accompanied by the sound of broken glass. “Clear now!”
Royce took that as a sign it was safe for him to get up to the second floor. By his count, they’d taken out at least nine of Corbin’s men, but he didn’t think any of the dead men were his uncle. He knew that Garrett and Sven had seen a picture of Corbin, and he was confident that Rowe and Noah knew what the old bastard looked like if they’d checked into Royce. None of them had mentioned that Corbin was among the dead. That meant the fucker was either on the second floor or not in the house.
Royce’s footsteps pounded up the curved stairs. Just as he was coming around the corner, pain sliced through his upper arm followed by the sound of a shot. Royce dropped to his knees and pulled back around the curve.
“Think you can just storm in here, Alesandro?” Nick called down the stairs from the second floor. “You and your mom are never leaving here alive!”
Royce glanced over to find blood soaking his shirt, but the bullet had just ripped along the top of his arm. It fucking hurt, but a handful of stitches and he’d be fine. His cousin would not be fine when he was done.
“I’m pinned down on the stairs. Anyone got eyes?” Royce demanded.
“Not me,” Rowe came back.
“Sorry. No,” Noah added.
“I’m on the opposite staircase to the second floor,” Garrett said. “Let me see if I can offer a little crossfire.”
Royce shifted, lifting his gun as he waited for Garrett to distract Nick. A second later, he heard some muffled shots from Garrett’s gun followed by Nick’s angry swearing. More shots were fired back. Royce drew in a deep breath and shifted forward. He could clearly see Nick at the top of the stairs, but only this time, his attention was pointed toward where Garrett had fired at him.
He felt zero remorse when he aimed and squeezed off two quick rounds that buried themselves deep in Nick’s chest. The large man was thrown backward, his gun falling from his limp fingers. Royce charged up the stairs, his weapon at the ready. His eyes scanned the open hallway for other attackers, but there was only Nick. He lay on the white carpet, his dark red blood staining it in a growing circle. Nick’s eyes were wide and fearful as he gasped for air. Blood bubbled up in his throat and spilled out the side of his mouth as he tried to breathe while blood filled his lungs.
Years of torment as a child, a rush of ugly memories crowded his mind as he stared at the man. Royce could only guess at the number of people Nick had tortured and killed over the years since he’d risen to power under his father. The world was a better place without Nick Karras in it. Lifting his gun, Royce squeezed off one more round, placing the bullet in the center of Nick’s forehead. He might hate his cousin, but he didn’t believe in allowing someone to suffer. Not anymore.
