Page 166 of Monstrous Serpent

There are a few reasons we drove out to Toledo. My brother’s girlfriend is one of them. Not sure how involved she was in their plan. Still, if she helped in any way, she belongs in the ground with the rest of them.

Rua bites into his lollipop, the crunch filling the cabin. “So, are we nervous about cops, or did Shin’s little cleanup demons earn their glitter?”

“They had questions. I had sufficient answers. Titans game was streamed, so they can access that. Hospital had me on camera.”

Rua hums. “Cute. Love when trauma comes with receipts.”

The engine idles, heater clicking on.

I owe Shin. It’s not the first time we’ve used his people to clean up a kill. But this one was personal. Reyes came up with dumping the bodies in Ohio. So far, it’s held.

“We going inside to rummage through your brother’s sad little secrets the cops missed?” Rua drums his fingers on the door panel. “Or are we waiting to see if the girlfriend shows?”

“Both.”

I kill the engine and growl when Rua tosses the lollipop stick onto the footwell. Fucking nuisance.

He winks, pulls the Glock out from under his seat, then tucks it into his waistband. “Better I carry it. If cops show, you’re the tragic brother. I’m plausible deniability with cheekbones.”

Grunting, I grab his hunting knife, secure it, then step out of the truck.

We pull our baseball caps low and cross the street. This is a small neighborhood. One where people pay attention. And while I have a right to be here, it doesn’t mean I want to be seen.

Rua veers toward the side entrance, partially hidden by the overgrown bushes. He tries the knob.

Locked.

He pulls a pick set from his back pocket and has it open in under ten seconds.

We tiptoe inside, both of us scanning the kitchen. There’s fingerprint dust on the counter edges, the light switch, and the fridge handle. Some drawers are pulled out, others shoved back in crooked.

“I’ll take the back rooms.” Rua reaches behind him, hand settling on the grip of the Glock. “You good out here?”

I nod.

He disappears down the hallway, and I make my way into the living room. The room is small, the carpet dirty. Some car magazines litter the scratched-up coffee table, a partially full ashtray next to them.

On the end table is a small picture frame. I step closer and pick it up. Haven’t seen this photo in a long time. It was Garrett’s favorite. My thumb brushes over the image of us from that summer we went fishing with our father. Think Garrett was seven. He’s smiling, and I’m looking up at him instead of the camera.

I set the frame face-down on the end table, then wipe my eyes.

Why’d everything have to go to shit?

The porch creaks, then the deadbolt on the front door clicks. I reach for the knife at my waist as the door opens. A woman steps through, brown hair up in a ponytail, large sunglasses on. She has the collar of her dark green jacket pulled up to cover half her face. The minute she spots me, her hand dips into her purse.

“Nuh, uh.” Raiyne steps out from the kitchen, gun trained on her. “Let’s not make this awkward. Drop it.”

The silver slide catches my eye before she lets go and slowly pulls her hand free, then raises both arms, palms out. “Who are you?”

My hand stays on the hilt of the knife, but I don’t pull it out. “You first.”

“This is my boyfriend’s house. And you sure as fuck don’t belong here.”

“You’re Natalie?”

She drops her hands, pushing up her sunglasses to rest on the top of her head. “And again, who the fuck are you?”

“Hunter Kincaid. Garrett’s brother.”