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Carter shook his head. “None yet, but that’s why we’re heading that way now.”
Isabella turns but keeps Mia with her, a sisterly shield. “You’re not going without me. If Daddy is missing, then we have to do something, and I’m not going to be shipped off like some child.”
“You going to try to steal my gun again?” I ask her.
Mia’s eyes go wider than normal. “Are you kidding me?”
“Then we need to hurry. If you absolutely refuse to be left behind, I’ve got no choice but to drag you along with me.” I cut a warning glance at Carter, then Mia, urging them not to try to argue with Isabella either. “We’re wasting time. I’ll fill you in.”
Isabella and I pile into the back of Carter’s car, leaving mine behind. The guards follow in their car because we’re going to need all the help we can get. All the bullets at our disposal. Each of the vehicles has a separate hidden compartment in the trunk and another near the side door panel with guns and clips hidden.
I highly doubt we’ll get to use them.
Prokhor would have gone in stealthily, avoiding the security around the property or maybe cutting the power supply. He’d have his people deal with the electrified fence before disarming the guards at the house.
He’d have probably kept his own attacking force small, whittling it down to his best people, although not the expendables, should there be a problem.
Carter and I had discussed our own strategy for breaking into the compound years ago. Before his wedding.
Except we’d beefed up security since then.
Either way, Prokhor’s people would be long gone at this point.
I keep those thoughts to myself as we make our way back to the entrance to the property. The gates are open, an invitation for anyone to come off the street and make themselves at home. It’s a scramble to get close to the house through the wreckage. The porch has been busted into pieces, the large stones crumbled into rubble, all that’s left of the great columns. Tile has shattered, and the door is blown clear of its hinges.
The bushes are still smoldering.
Carter pulls to a stop a safe distance away, and the second we’re back in open air, I link hands with Isabella. “Stay close,” I warn her.
It’s an order she will no doubt disobey. Mia is here, however. It counts for a lot and does more than I thought to ease the frenzy inside of Isabella. Seeing her sister broke something inside of my girl.
Our men approach the house first with their weapons drawn to secure the scene. The porch and the entryway sustained the most damage. They were unable to make it into the house to set any other charges despite the sound or the flash of flames, which suggested a larger swath of destruction.
Which is a small blessing in the grand scheme of things. There is no way to disguise the intended message, though; Drago is gunning for us without mercy. Now we know he can get to us where we feel safest and do it with no one the wiser.
What other properties does he know about? Which ones will he go for next?
His message to Isabella held no clues I was able to distinguish on a future hit. Or maybe it’s a purposeful move. He more than likely assumes I’ll read Isabella’s texts.
A pit forms in my lower abdomen as I take in the desecration, unrelieved when my men give the all-clear signal.
“Is it safe to go inside?” Carter has Mia crowded to his side. Their differences in size are almost laughable, but he’s always been a better bodyguard to her than any he would have hoped to employ. His stature helps.
Intimidation.
Something I haven’t been able to accomplish to that extent without the help of a gun.
“The ground is unstable, but the inside foyer appears intact,” the man at the center of the disaster calls out to us.
Barry surveys the scene with a distinctive Robocop air.
“Has anyone searched the rest of the ingress and egress?” Mia asks. “The doors are always locked, but that doesn’t mean our enemies are unprepared. They'll have made accommodations to counteract our security measures.”
There’s steel in her every word.
“We have the rest of our men checking.” Carter knows better than to placate Mia. She is the one with the power of their dynamic. Her brain, his brawn.
And there I stand, clinging to Isabella the same way she clings to me.
