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Chapter Sixty
ROGAN
All I want to do is wrap my little hellcat in my arms and tell her I would do anything for her. We would give her the fucking moon and the stars if we could. The look of vulnerability in her eyes as she asks us for help with Mitchel guts me like a fish.
“Of fucking course we will,” Alistair replies, planting a kiss on her cheek.
“Faster,” Maddox growls to the driver from the passenger seat. He was the last one to the car, and since there’s only room for three back here, he had to sit up front.
Maddox and I text and email all our contacts as we leave the city and come up to a gated community. High, iron fencing surrounds the perimeter of one of the most high-class estate communities in the area. Rolling down my back window, I type in the code and watch as the gate lifts, allowing us to enter.
Huge mansions are perched on top of hills amidst acres of grass with perfectly manicured lawns as we drive slowly down the wide, paved street, each more immense than the next. Stone fountains with flowing water and homes with tall pillars flaunt the amount of wealth here.
Some homes boast garages for six cars or more, while others show off with expensive landscaping, though most of the flowers are long gone in the harsh, Boston winter.
The community only holds a hundred homes, each standing proudly on this long, circular private drive.
Maybe someday, I’d like a home of my own, a place with a backyard and grass for barbeques…
But I can’t think about that now.
Under the cover of darkness, with only a few sparsely placed streetlights to guide us, we pull up in front of our destination and park. Two-storey pillars hold up an immense awning over the double wooden doors. The house is similar to the others—tall, with dozens of peaks, and painted in gray and white.
A fountain stands stoically before it, no water flowing from its mouth, but the angel upon it seems to follow us with his empty eyes.
No lights are on inside, since the family is still sleeping in the early hours of this new day. But I’m not sleepy, not even a bit.
Maddox gets out first, and I quickly follow, helping Rory down after me. Ali rounds the car and stands at our side on the curb.
“Where are we?” she starts, but Alistair silences her, placing a finger on her lips as he bends closer with a conspiratorial wink.
“Quiet,” he hushes. “It’s a surprise.”
She pouts but doesn’t say another word as we slink up to the front door of the silent mansion. Turning my back, I keep watch as Maddox checks the door, swearing when he finds it locked.
“I’ve got this,” I say, pushing him aside. Pulling out my phone, I flip through the emails I just sent and see if my contact at the security system facility has responded.
She has.
I quickly type the code into the keypad on the door, which not only shuts off the alarm, but lets us in.
“It’s just too easy.” Alistair grins and flashes Rory a proud smile as I pull her to my side. Maddox takes point, as always, drawing his gun and silently pushing open the door before stepping into the dark mansion. His eyes scan everything before he lets us in, and then we quickly move inside and shut the door behind us.
We walk into a grand foyer, which is two stories tall with marble floors and double staircases. Hanging from the ceiling is a huge chandelier I imagine is gorgeous when it’s on, but the house is dark, making the white walls look gray.
Lights run along the baseboards, illuminating the floor as we move. Everything here is pristine, from the marble tables to the huge crystal vases sitting on top of them. But what I notice is how cold this place feels. This isn’t how a family should grow up. There are no pictures of a single person, just paintings of rolling landscapes and expensive furniture that isn’t meant to be sat on.
Maddox waves us to the right, so we scurry behind him into a sitting room. Dark wood walls and a similar wooden floor give this room a cabin-like feel. Comfy leather chairs sit on top of fur rugs, and reclining couches face a massive fireplace with sconces perched on either side. The room is thick with the scent of cigars, leather, and alcohol.
Maddox strides over and flicks on the sconces, then he heads to a dry bar and pours four glasses of brandy before he hands them out and collapses into a recliner in the corner. The shadows from the light dance across his face, and with his gun on his lap, he looks as menacing as he undoubtedly always feels.
“You’re sitting with me,” I whisper to Rory as I sit on a couch and pull her onto my lap. Alistair opens the door on a large humidor and pulls out a cigar, lighting one for him and Maddox.
“You want one?” he asks Rory and me.
I shake my head, but she says, “Sure!”
Grinning, Alistair hands her his lit cigar and lights himself another. Rory puffs happily on hers, her little feet kicking as she sits on my lap.
