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We didn’t even need to drive to Brentwood’s place – it turns out he doesn’t live in Tartarus Oaks, but just around the corner on Santa Casilda Drive. He has one of those ridiculous mock Georgian houses with towering white columns and blue-painted shutters. When we pull up in Antony’s car, I see the gates are wide open.
“Is that normal?” I ask Antony.
“Nope. So this is interesting.” Antony drives in the gate and parks up beside an enormous marble fountain. A statue of Cupid playing his lyre with a pensive expression on his face trickles water from his upturned palm. We climb out of the car. Gabriel wrinkles his nose as he takes in the architectural monstrosity in front of us. He folds a pair of aviator sunglasses from his pocket and slaps them over his eyes.
“You a vampire?” I cock an eyebrow at him.
“I wish. I’m dying of a hangover.” Gabriel drank again last night. He runs a finger through the dark hair spilling over his shoulders. Only Gabriel Fallen could roll out of bed after drinking that much alcohol and still look so damn fine.
We ring the bell and wait. No one answers. My skin prickles, and I feel the sting of a pair of eyes on my back. I peer over my shoulder at the neighboring houses, searching for anyone watching us. My stomach twists as I think of those bullets hitting the stucco and pinging off the door as Noah fell on top of me. Was it Brentwood, or was it someone else and they’re following me right now? Will they try and finish the job?
I don’t like unknowns. There’ve been too many of them lately.
Antony tries the door handle. It’s unlocked. The door swings inward, revealing an opulent foyer bedecked in hideous gilded decor. “Okay, this is fucked. Something’s wrong.”
Noah and I exchange a glance. Antony draws his gun. I touch the knife in my sleeve. Antony glares at the boys. “You two stay out here. Keep watch.”
“No way.” Noah shoves his way inside. “We’re in this now.”
“Careful.” Antony thrusts out an arm, stopping Noah in his tracks. Noah starts to protest, but Antony points to a strip of wire stretched across the hallway about a foot off the ground. “This whole house is booby-trapped.”
“You’ve been here before?” I ask.
“I’ve done business with Brentwood in the past, on behalf of Brutus. And it’s just as well, since I’m now working with a bunch of circus animals— I said, don’t touch anything.” He glares at Gabriel, who’s reaching out to pick up one of the glass apples from a bowl on the sideboard. Gabriel jerks his hand back. “I’m not going to end up with an anvil dropped on my head just because you can’t keep the monkeys under control.”
We move down the hall, peering into the rooms on either side while Antony goes ahead and checks for more booby traps. We don’t cross the thresholds, but peer in to check each for… I don’t know what for. For some clue as to where Brentwood has gone and why his front door is open.
“He might’ve made a run for it,” Antony says. “And if a guy like Brentwood is on the run from Senator Marlowe, this concerns me.”
“Me too,” Noah mutters.
The place may be stuffed with antiques, but it’s immaculately clean. That’s why when I peer into a drawing-room, the first thing I notice is two coffee cups on the table and rumpled cushions on a chair. One of the cups is empty, but the other is still half-filled with liquid, a dirty spoon resting on the side of the saucer. I point them out to Antony. He nods, but doesn’t venture a theory.
On the second floor, Antony instructs me to check the guest wing while he takes Noah with him to the master bedroom. I think he just wants a break from Gabe’s… Gabiness. This whole week, especially the last forty-eight hours, have been so weird to me. I’m used to things just being me and Antony. I forgot his macho douchebagometer ratchets up to ten whenever there’s too much testosterone in the room.
“Your cousin doesn’t like me,” Gabriel muses as we peer into a guest suite decorated in a gross shade of fuchsia.
“I’m sure he’ll come around.” I stick my head in to try to see inside the ensuite. As I do, I notice an ax resting on a block tied to a tripwire over the doorframe and quickly snap my head back. “Just do all that male bonding stuff. You know, go to a ball game, toss a pigskin around, BBQ some brisket together.”
Gabriel makes a face.
“I’m kidding. If you want to get into Antony’s good books, find Brentwood and put a knife through his head.”
“Your family is crazy, Claws.” Gabriel’s hand slides down my side to rest casually and possessively on my hip. “I approve.”
“Guys, we found him,” Noah calls from the other end of the house. He sounds… weird, but that might just be his voice echoing through the mansion.
Gabriel takes off in the direction of Noah’s voice. I yank his arm to stop him from running. “Stay behind me, remember?” I scan every surface for traps and tripwires as we make our way back along the hallway and down another.
“Where are you?” I call out as we face two branching hallways and rows of identical doors. This place is a maze.
“Master bedroom – the door at the end on the left,” Antony calls out. “Watch the wire on the bathroom door.”
Gabriel and I make our way across the gilded bedroom to where Antony and Noah are inside a palatial ensuite. I have to bend down in the doorway to see the invisible wire catching the light. I lift my foot over it and immediately slide in a puddle of blood.
“Fuck.”
Noah slams his body into mine, catching me before I go down on top of the wire. His warm hands wrap around my waist, and I don’t want to leave.
