“We need Brooks to turn on Shannon and take the truth to the cops,” Everett said.
“Brooks is a ghost. Nobody can find his ass. Where does that leave us?” Sebastian demanded.
“Who said we couldn’t find him?” Bobby asked, then pushed a button to project a picture of a neighborhood street onto the screen. “I searched for other rental properties owned by Shannon and got a hit in St. X. Did some recon on CCTV and home security cams and got this.”
Sebastian watched Tony Brooks entering a house on the street. It was dark, but his face was illuminated underneath the bright porch lights.
Bobby continued, “This was from last night. Adonis is staking out the place. Brooks was seen going inside but hasn’t come out yet. He won’t make a move until you get there.”
“Where’s Lachlan?” Sebastian asked.
“At the private airplane hangar waiting for you,” Everett said.
An hour later, Sebastian stared at the modest bungalow-styled home at the corner of two streets in the Coral Cove neighborhood on the island of St. Xavier. Filled with working-class families, the streets were lined with work trucks of various companies—party rentals, carpet cleaning, A/C tune-ups, island movers, and construction companies. Employees who used the company vehicles for their personal needs on the sly had made it easy for him to blend in. Adonis had borrowed a Caribbean Plant Company truck from one of his friends for the stakeout. From the front seat of the white van, he sat low in the passenger seat, unnoticed by anyone outside. Lachlan and Adonis were several streets over, monitoring video feeds from the security cameras in the neighborhood and feeding intel to him through ear comms.
Lachlan confirmed that Tony Brooks hadn’t been seen on any of the home security cameras of the neighbors leaving this morning. Brooks was likely still trapped inside, waiting for the right opportunity to escape. A child’s birthday party was held at the house across the street from the bungalow. Parents, and their kids, milled about the yard for the past three hours as Sebastian waited for the chance to ambush Brooks, making him an offer he couldn’t refuse.
Either he helped them take down Shannon, or he died.
It was that simple.
They knew executing the plan in broad daylight would be risky, but none of them could have anticipated the crowds in the neighborhood for the party. Postponing to another day wasn’t an option. Brooks could be long gone by then. And Sebastian had promised Gabrielle he’d end things tonight. He wanted to return to King Estate with the good news that Shannon was behind bars for orchestrating the stalking threats on her life.
The party wined down, and the last of the visitors were leaving.
“I’m moving in five,” Sebastian spoke into the comms.
“Affirmative,” said Lachlan. “You have ten minutes, then get out of there no matter what. Chevy Suburban parked five streets south. Keys in cup holder. Adonis will follow behind and clean up after you.”
“Confirmed,” Sebastian said. No one would know if Brooks lived or died there once Adonis was finished. The man was that good.
Sebastian exited the van wearing Caribbean Plant Company coveralls, which were two sizes too big to accommodate several choices of weapons he’d brought along for the occasion. A baseball cap sat low on his head, hiding his face from the doorbell cameras Lachlan was monitoring. If any of them got an identifiable view of his face, Bobby was on alert back at the compound to erase it before it could be discovered.
Grabbing a potted palm tree from the passenger seat, he trotted to the back gate. Using the plant to obscure his moves, he pulled a small hacksaw from his pocket and wrangled the latch. The gate swung open, and he went inside. The yard was overgrown with weeds and looked like it hadn’t been cut in months. Stepping through the tall brush, he sat the potted palm on the cracked concrete patio and slowly approached the glass doors that led into the bungalow.
Moving his hand to the inside of his coveralls, he pulled out a new magazine, slotting it into his Glock. The sliding glass door had been left open, with the drapes swaying in the breeze, billowing in and out of the open space.
Sebastian’s heart slammed against his ribs. He growled, then stepped inside. The sickening stench of blood assaulted his nose, growing stronger as he crossed the living room toward the hallway, which he suspected led to the bedrooms. His fingers tightened on his gun as he neared the first bedroom. Empty. The stench had become almost unbearable. His stomach churned, but he continued down the hallway toward another bedroom, then a bathroom. Both empty.
One last door loomed at the end of the hall.
Sebastian used his boot to nudge it open.
Deja vu washed over him.
The room was identical to what he’d walked in on at the safe house, except the players were different.
A light-skinned island woman lay naked and unconscious across the bed, head, and arm dangling over the side. An eight-by-ten photograph of Gabrielle was taped to cover her face. Her bare breasts moved slightly with each breath. She was still alive.
He couldn’t say the same for the man on the floor.
Tony Brooks lay in a pool of his blood, wearing jeans and no shirt. His eyes frozen in terror. Stab wounds covered his arms, legs, and neck. His chest was wiped clean with a single message scrawled in red lipstick on his skin.
She’s mine.
Sebastian backed out of the room. His mind raced with the implications of the scene.
Shannon was sicker than they realized.
