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When we reach the gates of the courtyard something distracts me from my thoughts. I’m grateful for it because those thoughts never lead to a good place. And as Councilor Hildebrand climbs into the first of two Rolls Royce’s awaiting us, I see the mask with its devil’s horns on the ground. I take a step toward it and gasp. Because it’s the mask. The horned devil from the chapel. He must have left the compound. Taken it off here. Would I recognize him if I saw him again? Heard his voice? I’m sure I would. Hell, I’ll know if I’m ever in the same room as him because even looking at the discarded mask I feel it, that shivering sensation along my spine raising the hairs on the back of my neck.
“Sister,” Carlton snaps, startling me.
He’s waiting at the open door of the second Rolls Royce, the two guards behind me.
Glancing once more at the mask, I turn and walk into the waiting vehicle somehow knowing wherever we’re going, whatever it is, tonight, everything will change for me.
4
Jericho
“I told you that you shouldn’t have gone,” Ezekiel, my brother, says. “You’re not yourself.” He hands me a tumbler of whiskey.
I take it from him and drink a sip. “I’m fine. Everything looks good?” I ask, moving around the desk to look at the papers spread across it. They must have arrived while I was at the compound.
“Exactly as discussed. Just needs a couple of signatures,” he says. “Hildebrand was good with the change in location? Just readily agreed?”
I hear his tone and glance up, meet his grin with my own. “I have no idea. I switched off my phone.”
“I’m sure he’ll be in fine form.” He swallows the last of his whiskey and pours another.
I study my brother in profile. I haven’t seen him in five years, but he hasn’t changed much. Most would say not at all, but I’m not most. He’s built like me. I’m roughly two years older than him and we’ve always been close. Well, except for those months we weren’t but that’s water under the bridge.
“Zeke,” I say. He turns to face me. “Her room looks nice. If a bit yellow.”
He smiles. “Just a bit? I was going for over-the-top.”
“Thank you,” I say. “Thank you for doing it.”
All joking is gone. “She’s my niece. I’m happy to have her home where she belongs. Along with my brother.”
I do smile this time, a real smile.
He nods and reaches into his pocket to retrieve his cell phone. He reads a text. “Two Rolls Royce’s pulling up to the house.”
“Get Hildebrand in first. Bishops can wait outside,” I say, taking off my suit jacket and hanging it over the back of the desk chair, then rolling up my sleeves.
He types out a reply and pockets his phone. “Jericho,” he says, drawing my attention from the sheets on the desk. He takes in the ink on both forearms. It’s actually one tattoo. Two dragons coiled on my back, tails extended over my arms. Chaos and kinship. Destruction. Power. He has the same so I’m not sure why he’s staring. “You sure you’re ready for this?”
I square my gaze on him. “I’ve been ready for five years. I just needed the evidence.”
He nods. He’s heard the recording. Knows Carlton Bishop’s role in Kimberly’s death. Her accidental murder. I was the target. She just got in the way. She was twenty-four years old. Twenty-fucking-four. Pregnant with our first baby. We were engaged to be married. Fantasizing about living on a fucking beach in Mexico and leaving everything behind.
Fuck.
Fuck me.
And fuck Carlton Bishop. I’m going to bury him.
“Brother.” I startle at Zeke’s touch on my shoulder. I don’t know when he moved. I’m too caught up in the past.
“I’m fine,” I say, not looking at him.
“Are you?”
I meet his eyes. His are steel gray like our mother’s. Hers are softer though. Kinder than his.
“I said I’m fine,” I say, voice thick, my throat coated with the memory of that day.
