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I enter. Without Bailey by my side, I feel exposed. Vulnerable.
This is the first time I’ve been in Violet’s home. The inside reminds me of the house I lived in with my husband.
The place isn’t just tidy.
It’s OCD tidy.
I bet if I go into the kitchen, I’ll find the towels perfectly aligned and the cans perfectly stacked. Everything has a proper place, and nothing deviates from it.
The moment it does, even by a fraction of a fraction of an inch, there will be hell to pay.
A near-quiet sobbing comes from the room near the front of the house. I don’t shut the front door all the way so I don’t have to waste time opening it if I have to quickly escape, but the gap isn’t large enough to let in sounds from outside that will alert Dunbar someone else is in the house.
I send Lucas a text.
Me: Violet is in trouble. I’m in the house
I don’t bother to wait for his reply. I creep toward the entrance of the room where the sobbing is coming from and scan the hallway for anything that could be used as a weapon. At least when Angelique was sent to occupied France, she’d been taught self-defense before leaving England. She knew how to turn just about anything into a weapon.
A click comes from behind me. I don’t have to turn around to know Dunbar is standing there, a gun pointed at the back of my head.
Fuckers.
59
Troy
August, Present Day
Maple Ridge
* * *
I glance over my shoulder, and any thought of escaping from my current situation collapses to the ground. The man’s pistol is aimed at my head. And there’s a reason I never heard him approach. Everything about the man screams former special forces, including his dark-green camo.
My gut tells me he’s a hired hand. The type of soldier who’ll work for whoever pays him the most, no matter which side of the law that might fall.
The type of man not to be trusted.
Hands raised, I slowly push to my feet. If I’m lucky, Garrett and Kellan did a better job at remaining hidden.
If not, we’re all screwed.
“Walk!”
I do what I’m told. The evasive moves ingrained in my motor memory won’t do much good here. He’ll kill me before I could make the first move.
He doesn’t come off as the sort who’s interested in chatting or answering questions. So I don’t say anything. I focus on how I’m going to get my ass out of here. Alive and not in a body bag.
I enter the clearing, my hands still raised, and stop since I have no idea where I’m supposed to go. The unspoken question is answered by way of a jab between my shoulder blades with the pistol.
We continue through the open metal gate leading to the warehouse compound and approach Wilson and the man he’s talking to.
“Sir!” The word fires from the special forces soldier with military precision. “I found someone snooping in the trees beyond the perimeter fencing. Sir!”
Wilson and the other man turn to us. Both scowl. I know the feeling. I’m as unimpressed with the circumstances as they are. The odds that I won’t see tomorrow are exponentially high. My brothers can hardly storm the castle armed with nothing but branches. We’ll all get shot if they try.
Fuck. Goddamn. Fuck.
