Page 19 of Brutal Truths

Cort butts in. “I’m not a traitor.”

Silas turns his head just enough to look at him, unimpressed. “Are you sure about that? I’m not. Guess will find out soon enough.”

I park my Jag out front, angling it so no one can block me in. You never know when you might need to make a quick getaway. And if I get word about Isabel, I don’t care what I’m in the middle of… I’m leaving. Going straight to her.

And when I find the person who took her, I won’t stop at just killing him.

As I climb out, I take in my surroundings. The warm air carries a strange tension, something almost electric that puts me on edge.

A lone gardener shapes the lush green bushes that border the main house with practiced ease. It doesn’t take me long to recognize him.

I fight back a chuckle. Lane.

No clue how the hell he pulled it off, but know I’ll hear about it later.

There are three houses in the complex and several pools for the members to use, along with tennis courts and, of course, the stables where the horses are kept.

The main one is massive. It’s where most members go when they come for a visit. The ground floor is designed for socializing with common rooms. Silas comes here for the thrill of high-stakes poker games and the women.

The most disturbing activities occur on the lower and upper levels. Members go there to do things I don’t enjoy thinking about, while others watch.

The other two houses are private. One is Trent’s—off limits to everyone. The other belongs to Silas. When he’s not using it, members can rent it out.

How do I know this? Silas has a big mouth. He talks. And while others aren’t allowed to talk about the shit that goes on down here, the rules are different for the warlord. He makes his own rules. Those in charge always do.

Behind me, another door opens. I turn to see Silas encouraging Cort out of the backseat by pointing his gun at his head when he doesn’t move fast enough.

Slamming my door, I send them both a warning. “You shoot him in my car, and you’ll buy me a new one. And Cort, if he doesn’t kill you, I will. Get the fuck out of my car.”

Now that he’s out and being shoved along, the three of us make our way toward the main door.

A few cars sit in the designated spots for members, nothing out of the ordinary at first glance. Midday does that, making it look almost normal. By nightfall, this place will be crawling with men looking to get away with shit they can’t do out in the open.

When Cort stumbles up the steps leading to the concrete porch, I take pity on him and help him up. “Stop being a dickhead, Silas. You’ve made your point. He gets it. He fucked up. The only way to make this right is to come clean with Trent. Which he’ll do, right?”

Cort nods but says nothing.

“Right. Let’s not make him piss himself again just yet. Trent will do a fine job of that soon enough.”

The moment our feet hit the gray marble of the foyer, Trent is there to greet us, his unfriendly gaze cutting through us like a knife.

“Explain.”

In one fluid motion, I pull the bag from my shoulder and offer it to him. “Here’s what you asked me to bring from Rico’s. Silas got bored and showed up at the penthouse. That’s when we learned Mr. Theiss lied to us. Figured I’d let him deal with him while I finished up. Then he showed up at my house, said I needed to hear what our friend had to say.”

I glance toward Cort. “Thought you’d like to hear it too.”

Trent remains where he is, his eyes lock on mine, like he’s daring me to break.

Jokes on him.

I’ve played this game before. I don’t give in. Don’t show fear. Not even when some shithead presses a car lighter against my skin and the stink of burning flesh penetrates the air.

At fifteen, I wasn’t as good at this game. I am now.

When his attempts at goading me fall flat, he sighs and shifts his focus to his son, a new strategy flickering in his eyes.

“Did you get it done?” Taking the bag from me, he drops it to his side. “And your answer had better be yes.”