Page 55 of Cash

All three boys looked at Zane but it was Eric who answered, “With my life.”

Zane gave his son an approving dip of his chin.

Christ, the kid hadn’t even hit double digits, and he was already a mini-Viper.

Once the kids ran out of the room and I was free to look over the files, I glanced at Easton. “Slide those down.” I was interested in seeing what kind of jobs Lore had worked with Michael. But before Easton could comply Garrett walked into the room, open laptop in hand. His downturned lips and grim expression didn’t bode well.

“I need the big screen.” A second later the image of a young Stella was gone. Garrett did something on his laptop and the screen mirrored his device and without explanation a video played.

Stella and Cara in the living room. Both of them sitting on the floor—colored pencils scattered around the coffee table. A coloring book open. Cara filling in the left side of the book. Stella the right. They weren’t speaking, both in deep concentration. Until an alert on Stella’s phone broke the silence. The way she snatched the phone off the table and her accompanying frown spoke volumes—she already knew what she’d find. Sure enough she leaned over and said something into Cara’s ear before she swept her up and ran out of the room. Garrett had obviously spliced together the footage because without having to switch to the other camera angle, the video continued seamlessly.

Lore set Cara down in front of the pantry door.

“Remember what we practiced?” she asked.

Cara nodded.

Lore went to the correct shelf immediately, pressing the locking mechanism that I’d only found by luck. She quickly maneuvered the unit, shoved—albeit gently—Cara through and disappeared. A few moments later she reappeared alone.

My gut roiled at the tension in her body. I’d never seen Lore display a moment of fear. But when she lifted her gaze and stared directly into the camera I found I was wrong; it wasn’t fear I saw in the lines of her body—it was panic. That didn’t hit my gut; it felt more like a kick to the balls.

Lore didn’t panic.

She didn’t show fear.

She was strong, capable, and outspoken.

After the brief hesitation she turned, hopped up on the counter, got to her feet, and reached for the top of the cabinet. A second later she jumped down with gun in hand.

But it was too late.

Three men rounded the corner, M4’s at the ready. Lore swiveled, took aim, but before she could take a shot, a fourth man entered through the same door I did. Two strides and a heartbeat later he had the barrel of his handgun to the back of her head.

A film of red-hazed fury tinted my vision.

Lore’s shoulders stiffened. Her eyes darted back to the camera and for a split second I couldn’t read her look—extreme anger but there was indecision mixed in. The crazy woman was calculating her odds.

My heartrate ticked up to a pounding, hoping like fuck I wasn’t about to witness Lore’s murder.

I couldn’t say it was relief when Lore opened her hand and the gun fell to the floor and the man behind her holstered his weapon. It wasn’t relief when he yanked her arms behind her back and zip-tied them. And it certainly wasn’t relief when the fucker placed what looked like a black pillowcase over her head and I lost my visual of her pleading blue eyes.

What it did was give me hope. Any good operator knew when to fight and when to yield.

My back teeth clamped tight as the fucker not-so-gently yanked Lore out of the house using the same door he’d used to enter.

Not a word was exchanged.

“He took her through the backyard,” Garrett said, breaking the silence. “Lost them when they hit the trees.”

For the next ten minutes we watched three men tear Lore’s house apart. They weren’t looking for anything specific, just completely demolishing it. Setting the scene of a home invasion.

“They’re pros,” Kira muttered.

She wasn’t wrong. From the ski masks pulled down and tucked into the top of their long-sleeved black shirts, to their tactical gloves, down to the old-school black Bates boots. Not an inch of skin showing. No verbal communication.

No way to identify any of them.

“Clean in. Clean out,” Theo added. “Any luck with neighbor’s cameras?”