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“What the fuck are you doing, Draven? Fuck. This was supposed to be quick and quiet. Why the hell did you bring the AR?” a man whispered furiously.

If the cops arrive prior to my death, I can tell them one of my assailants has a Southern accent. Shit, I forget the name he said already. I clutched my gun.

“Come on, Griff, the guy’s gonna die anyway. It’s fast cash. Let’s just get this over with.” The other man chuckled.

Oh, goody, another name.

“You listen to my orders. You might be new on this team, but I’m in fucking charge.”

A dull ache began in my shoulder and I glanced down. Shit, with more than one hitman—or whatever they are—and an injury, I’m done for. In the darkness, I couldn’t see a thing, but when I groped near the spot that hurt, stickiness clung to my fingers. Blood. Almost as if thinking about the wound had made it real, pain blazed through the back of my shoulder and I held in a gasp.

I had two options. I could either fight back and wait for the cops to show up or talk to them. The thought of wheeling and dealing with men trying to kill me made me cringe, but they had automatics while I didn’t, and I wanted to get back to my boy and pup.

“Guys, how about we chat?” I kept my tone jovial.

Silence.

“Listen, I get it, money is good. I can give you double what my brother did, okay? He’s a scumbag who stole money and skipped town, leaving his son behind.” I rolled my shoulder and winced, then carefully sat on one of the lower steps with the handgun clutched tightly in my palm. “You don’t care about family drama, do you? You just want cash.”

More silence. Damn it, I wasn’t liking this.

“My brother is a coward who left his son behind to get beatings meant for him.” I sighed. Fuck it. If I was going to die, then so be it. I stood and carefully walked to the light switch, then turned it on, flooding the hallway with a brilliant glow. The kitchen door was open slightly and a man in camo and dark green paint was peering around it. I held out my hands and slowly set my gun on the floor. “The cops are on their way, and his son isn’t here. He’s safe at a friend’s house, so if you think you’re getting Saint tonight, you can think again. Kill me, but that won’t help. I would rather fucking die than let that piece of shit get his hands on Saint again.”

“Are you the one who kidnapped your nephew and forced him into sex slavery?” asked a gruff Southern voice. I recognized him as the one who’d said he was in charge. He was the same one staring out of the kitchen door. I felt more eyes on me, though, and I didn’t know where they were watching me from.

“I didn’t force him into anything. He wanted help after his father abandoned him. He was going to be killed. I took him in, like any good uncle, and gave him a home and paid back his father’s debts so Saint wouldn’t be in danger.” While I had blackmailed him, everything else I’d said was true. He had a choice. I wouldn’t have chased him down if he’d left after I’d paid off the people who wanted his blood. “I love my nephew.”

There was a grunt from somewhere behind me and my back went straight, but I didn’t move even as my shoulder throbbed in agony. Somewhere in the distance, sirens wailed.

“Seems we were lied to, then.” The kitchen door opened a little more, and I realized it was the man who’d blacked out my camera. He was big and wide with a bushy beard, but I couldn’t tell the color because of the gunk he’d smeared in it. “Your brother claimed his son was being held against his will.”

“I’m sure you’ve already checked around the house.” I turned slightly and winced when I saw a man almost as big as the first one directly behind me, near the stairs. He was wearing the same camouflage and green paint on his face, and I suspected they were mercenaries. Johnny only ever paid for the best. “I hope you made him give you the money first. He probably doesn’t have much left from the fifty million he stole. He has always been the type to overspend and overcompensate.”

“We only got half,” the one in charge drawled.

I laughed. “Good luck getting the rest.”

“Hm.” He stepped down the hallway, his big army boots thumping on the floor. The walls around him were littered with bullet holes from the automatic rifle attack and a credenza was broken, shattered into wooden pieces. “You better hope you’re telling the truth or we’ll be back.”

The sirens wailed louder. “I am. If you want to evade the cops, you better leave now. I’d rather you go and deal with my brother when he can’t pay you for the rest of your services.”

The big man with the bushy beard didn’t say much else. He backed out into the kitchen, and when I glanced behind me, the other man was already gone. My shoulders slumped and I hissed at the pain that shot through my right one. Relief washed through me after I heaved a sigh.

This was going to be a long night of investigation and interviews.

I pulled the phone out of my pocket, then stared at the messages from Ridge, but I didn’t reply. I would rather him think I went to sleep. I wouldn’t tell them what happened until it was all over.

14

SAINT

Shifting on the pillow Ridge had tossed to the floor for me a couple of hours ago, I leaned back against the couch and snuck a peek at Benny Daughtler. His silver-streaked blond head nodded toward his chest as he drifted off to sleep in an armchair, and the normally handsome man looked absolutely awful. As weird as it felt to think it now, especially with everything that went on between Ridge and Uncle Bowie, I used to think of Benny Daughtler as a DILF when I was younger. Once a week I would see him dropping Judge and Jury off at basketball practice. I’d helped out with the kids in the grades below mine during my senior year of high school. The dark circles under Benny’s eyes were almost worse than the bruises I’d had when I’d shown up at Uncle Bowie’s house.

I turned the page in the book I was reading, The Art of Living a Meaningless Existence, but didn’t stop staring as Jury stood from his seat on the couch. With a small sigh, Jury unwrapped the soft blue blanket that he’d had around his own shoulders like a cape, then tossed it over Benny.

Ridge laid the book he’d been pouring over on the coffee table and a pang struck me. I missed college. If I’d had my way, I might’ve been a career student or academic, but my father had always thought academia was a waste of time. Jury stroked back the hair on Benny’s forehead, and I knew, without a doubt, he loved him. Ridge dragged me closer, and I rested my cheek on his muscled thigh.

Jury turned around and tilted his head as his attention settled on me where I was touching Ridge, and my entire body scalded with a squirm of embarrassed heat. I picked at the leg of my pajama pants, then hid my hands in the sleeves of my borrowed hoodie. Jury knew me and Ridge, so this wasn’t like interacting with strangers. We couldn’t pretend we were two regular guys who slept with each other. He knew we were cousins. Ridge ran his fingers through my hair, and my eyes wanted to slip shut, but Jury’s curious gaze caught mine and speculation I didn’t like twisted his mouth into a small frown.