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“Where’s Rick?”
“Parking his car. What’s this all about?”
Cocking her hip to the side, she crosses her arms. “I’m curious, Rain. Show me how useful you are to me after binge drinking all night.”
I don’t even hesitate. I unzip my duffel and take out the only possession I have from my father, a pearl-handled, 9mm Ruger.
Simon gave it to me on my sixteenth birthday, and when he told me my father would’ve wanted me to have it, I knew he was a liar.
My father would’ve never wanted me to need a gun.
After they took my older brother, he took us off the grid. We lived on the coast for easy escape, and he didn’t like using electricity or having any kind of “locating services” like the Internet or phones.
We had a root cellar and a garden, goats and chickens, and everything we owned, we either made or harvested. We stayed hidden for a long time, but they found us. I’ll never forget the day they came.
I was so young, it’s mostly shadow memories… until I fall asleep. Then my body remembers what my mind tries to forget.
Lifting the handgun, I squint one eye, exhaling slowly as I gently pull the trigger…Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop! My arms don’t move as I do what I’ve spent four years mastering, along with Krav Maga and tracking.
Stepping back, I flip the switch to return the target to us. The five bullets I shot are clustered in a tight circle around the heart on the black and white paper torso.
“How useful is that?”
Natasha’s arms are still crossed, her flat expression crackling with annoyance. It’s always been that way with her, from the first day I appeared in Simon’s house, begrudging acceptance.
“You’ve grown up a lot since Simon died.” Approval is not in her tone. “He always said your true colors would emerge, but I didn’t believe him.”
She doesn’t have to tell me she didn’t. She made it abundantly clear. What’s not so clear is the meaning of my true colors, but I’ll leave her in the dark for now. As it is, I’m still trapped in this cage.
Holstering my gun, I return to my original question, “What are we doing here?”
Rick trots down the stairs, the chain on his jeans jangling. Nat lifts her chin, indicating for him to join us. Once we’re all together, she motions for us to take a seat. I gladly comply, and she paces a tight line, speaking quietly, urgently.
“It’s difficult to take the lead in this world, assuming the mantle with no guidance or support.” She looks around as if someone might be listening. “The old guard thinks they’ll steal what’s left and remove me without any accountability, but I’m one step ahead of them.”
She inhales deeply, straightening her back. She wants us to ask how she’s ahead, but those days are over for me. If she has something to say, she can say it.
So she continues. “Victor kept a ledger of every member of the RDIF’s dealings. How much they collected and paid, to whom, and most importantly, how deeply they were involved. Five years ago, Andre Bertonelli stole it. It was a pointless act, because the information only makes sense if you’re in our organization.”
“Okay.” I sit straighter, growing more interested.
A book like she’s describing could help me find what I’m looking for.
“I have to get it back,” she continues. “That book will give me all the information I need, the receipts to force everyone back to the table.”
“Do you know where it is?” I ask.
“From what I’ve been able to learn, Hugh van Hamilton gave it to Hutch Winston’s younger brother Dirk. He’s their computer geek, so it’s either still with him or it’s somewhere at Hugh van Hamilton’s estate in South Carolina.”
Blinking fast, I know where she means. “In Hamiltown…”
She nods, and I remember Greg and Trip going there to search for something stolen. Mystery solved—although, I take it they never found the ledger.
“Do you have a plan?”
“The Winstons and the van Hamiltons all know me, and they know Rick.”
My brows furrow. “They know me as well. We partied with Hana and Blake all the time, and Hutch and Scar were with us at the Belmont Gala and in Gibson’s.”
