Ty: The hot redhead or the older lady? You totally nailed the cougar, didn’t you?
Me: A gentleman never kisses and tells.
Ty: You’re not a gentleman. You’re a dick.
I’m distracted from my phone when we pass by the building Bryant tasked me with torching. It took some effort, but the end result was a fuck-ton of firetrucks and a total loss. They still can’t tell it was arson, according to Bryant’s intel, and they sure as hell haven’t linked me or him to it. Arson isn’t usually my gig, but he did get me information I needed.
Ash.
Winston keeps her safely at the Constantine Compound most of the time. They attend events that Morellis aren’t invited to. Me and my brothers aren’t invited to anything where Ash might show.
My phone buzzes again.
Ty: You’re such a prick for making me beg. Please get me Landry’s number.
I glance over at Sparrow who’s pissed as hell over the fact Sully kissed her. And I could bet money that Sully would be more than pissed if he knew Sparrow got her off over the phone. I wonder how angry they’ll be when they find out I’ve given Ty her number just to fuck with them.
They’re obsessed with this girl just like they both were with Ivy Anderson. I didn’t like Ivy all that much, but when you’re fourteen, you don’t turn down the chance to get laid by a cheerleader. I sure as hell didn’t.
But Ash?
She was different for me.
I hated her and her father for joining our family. They were an infection that got to my mother and ultimately got her severed from us.
I wanted Ash to pay.
I wanted to hurt her. I did hurt her.
Eventually, I would have broken her completely.
Winston Constantine ruined everything.
All I want is the opportunity to get Ash in my grasp once more. To stare down at her, watching her wither and wilt like a dying flower.
It won’t be childish games like last time.
I shoot Ty the number. When I realized Sparrow had been talking to her earlier, I texted Bryant to also get her number. I felt like it was useful to have. You never know when you need information like that.
Ty: You amaze me, man. Seriously. Thanks!
Me: Good luck getting past Daddy Croft…
Ty: Right?!
He sends me some dumb emojis of a bicep flexed. Idiot.
Sparrow mashes the button on his stereo, silencing the vehicle. The clink, clink, clink of his blinker is almost comical. Since when does he use a fucking blinker? Not to mention, he’s been blowing through most red lights and going well over the speed limit whenever there are less traffic-congested areas.
We pull into a parking garage—one I know well now. It’s Croft’s office building. Sparrow pulls the ball cap lower over his brow and creeps into the parking garage. Since there are other businesses in the building—a couple restaurants, some shops, and even some residential units—it’s hard as shit to find a parking spot. Eventually, we get lucky and find a spot that someone is exiting.
“What now?” Sully asks, leaning forward between the front seats.
“We wait.” Sparrow goes to turn back on the music, but Sully smacks at his hand. “What the fuck?”
Sully growls right back. “What’s the plan? How long do we have to wait here?”
“We’re not going to wait here,” I tell them. My brothers are not the mastermind. Their intentions are good but without me, they’d be waiting forever. “We’re going to go find his car and hide nearby.”
“And then what?” Sully demands.
I reach beneath the seat and pull out my Glock. “Then we teach him a lesson.”
“Woah. Dude, no. We’re not fucking killing him,” Sparrow exclaims. “Fuck him up, yes, but not shoot his ass. Put the gun away, psycho.”
“Fine,” I say with a smirk, shoving it back under the seat. “I guess those guns will have to do.” Sparrow grunts when I flick his bicep. “Let’s go.”
We slip out of Sparrow’s death machine and stick to the shadows. Our ball caps and hoodies, all in black, will make it impossible for the cameras to pick out who we are. Several flights of stairs later, we make it to the floor Alexander parks on. His midnight-blue Bugatti is parked at an angle, taking up two spots.
“I fucking hate this guy,” Sparrow spits out.
“You and me both.” Sully crouches into a shadowed area near the car.
Me and Sparrow find our own hiding spots. It reminds me of when we were toddlers. We’d hide and Mom would seek after us. I fucking miss her.
Mom’s not coming this time.
We wait for over two hours for this workaholic prick to emerge from his office. I don’t know what Sparrow and Sully do to pass the time, but I text back and forth with Ty because the guy just will not stop.
“Psst,” one of my brothers hisses.
I shove my phone into my pocket and ready myself, waiting for this guy to approach his vehicle. I’m about to creep from the shadows to attack him, but Sparrow bursts forward all fiery rage and a guttural roar of fury. Sully pounces too, however, with a lot less noisemaking. I prowl after them, amused by how furious my brothers are.
This is personal.
That much is evident when Sparrow puts his hands on his throat and starts squeezing.
This just got more interesting.
Alexander is choking out startled cries and what sounds like pleas for us to just take his money. He has lots of it, apparently.
Sully kicks Alexander hard on the side. The man squirms, trying to fight the both of them off, but my brothers are too strong.
I’d assumed we’d just rough the dickhead up a little, but Sparrow is seconds from crushing this dude’s windpipe. Sully must realize it at the same time I do because he shoves our brother off Alexander. Sparrow stumbles away, cursing under his breath. Sully swings his leg, nailing Alexander in the side again. If he didn’t break any ribs, I’ll be shocked. Patiently, I wait for my turn. Sparrow grunts and snarls like a goddamn bull, but lets Sully get his fill. Alexander is barely moving by the time he finishes with him.
“Let’s go,” Sully snaps, starting back toward the stairwell.
I start for Alexander, walking slowly because my knees are hurting from being crouched for so long. I shove my hand into my pocket and push my fingers through the holes of my brass knuckles. He grunts when I reach him and straddle his chest. His throat is purple and blue, but other than that, he looks fine.
I slam my fist across his cheek.
Pop!
A laugh bursts out of me when blood rushes down over his cheek. Doesn’t feel so good to get hit in the face does it, old fucker?
This time I slam my brass knuckles into his nose. The sickening crack and subsequent flood of blood is satisfying. I don’t even personally know this Landry bitch, but if she’s got my brothers all agitated enough to want to kick this guy’s ass, then I’m there for moral support.
We’re a triple threat. Always.
I go for his fucking teeth this time. Someone grabs me in a headlock, dragging me away before I can make impact. Snarling, I attempt to fight them off. I realize it’s Sparrow, so I know I won’t win. Going limp, I let him haul my ass away. Once he’s certain I won’t go finish what we started and land a death blow, he takes off toward the stairwell since we parked his car on a different level. It’s not until we’re inside the vehicle and peeling out of the parking garage do we even speak.