Fact was, I wanted to deal with him. The last time I’d seen her before I went to meet her so-called uncle, she’d been whole and there’d been a light in her eyes. Now, she was marked up and the shadows in her eyes were thicker than ever. Her curves were gone, the subtle form of them she’d been gaining all seemed to have been worn away in the last three weeks or so.
Three weeks shouldn’t be a damn eternity.
“We’ll get this done and then get back to her.”
And after that, I was going to make sure no one ever laid a finger on her again.
We parked down the street from the firm—Legionnaire Preservation Service—weird name for a place that specialized in asset protection and threat mitigation. Of course, they also offered other services, like private investigations, process servicing, and transportation. The company wasn’t listed, all of their contracts came through private references, and you couldn’t walk in off the street and hire them.
It had taken me three months to uncover the damn name when I first began looking into Bradley Sharpe and the rest of the Sharpe family. This firm handled all of the uncle’s security concerns. Greasing the wheels with some former classmates had scored me a reference. But I hadn’t actually used it beyond tracking where they were “based.”
I’d been too busy, especially after Milo sent Emersyn to live with me. That reminded me, we hadn’t called the guys yet. We should probably do that. Except…
“How do you know he’s going to be here?”
“I don’t,” I answered. “I just know this is who he works for and they’re required to appear at the offices once a week if they aren’t on an assignment.”
“And if he’s on assignment?”
“Then I’m pretty sure they’ll call him in for the box I had couriered over here this morning.” A box I’d sent with a return address of Bradley Sharpe and the promise of a bonus. Greed got to everyone.
Rome shifted in the seat. “You hope.”
“I have a plan b.”
“Good.”
I sighed, then cut a look toward him because the weight of his stare bored into me. “What?”
“You like her.”
Pulling my gaze from Rome, I focused on the doors to the building. It wasn’t a huge one. They weren’t located in some downtown metropolis, but instead they were in a suburb. I supposed it made sense.
The pressure of his gaze didn’t shift. I watched the building and he watched me. “Yes,” I said, finally. “I like her. She’s a pain in the ass, but she’s also a fighter. What does it matter?” She was his girl. I wasn’t going to get in the way. Even if he’d wanted me sleeping on the other side of her, I got it.
It was the same when she’d been at the apartment. Keep the bad dreams away. Make her feel safe.
“It’s okay to like her.”
I frowned, then twisted to look at him again. He wasn’t looking at me but at the building.
“You were right. He’s here.”
Jerking my attention back to the target, I flexed my fist then pulled up the photograph of Mr. Cole. My contact hadn’t been able to get me much more than a picture and the confirmation he worked here. Anything beyond that would cross a line they didn’t want to cross. Fine, whatever. I just wanted to get my hands on the son of a bitch.
I paid good money for the information.
Worth every penny.
“Mr. Cole” wasn’t inside long. I didn’t touch the ignition while he made his way down the street toward a public lot. As soon as he turned the corner, I started the car and rolled forward. He got into a silver car.
“Get the plate,” I told Rome as we passed it. The car had backed out of its spot and I pulled into the next drive like I was going to get into the drive-thru.
“Got it.”
Then I “changed my mind” and went to the next exit.
“He’s going south.”
A left turn and I was back on the road. We were three cars behind him. There we stayed as he got on the interstate. He didn’t stay on it long. Fortunately, he wasn’t the only one who got off at his exit and we moved with him. I dropped back another car length. His car was lower to the ground, but the SUV gave us the height to look past the other vehicles.
When he pulled into a lot near a grocery store. I glanced at Rome. “Here or wait?”
“Here.”
I let Rome off at the door, even as I tracked Cole’s movement through the parking lot.
“I’ll be around back.”
Fifteen minutes later, Rome half-carried “Mr. Cole” as he walked right out through a service door and shoved him into the backseat. I glanced back as Rome climbed in with him. Blood trickled from the guy’s forehead. Not that Rome was especially gentle with the prick.
“He resisted.”
“I didn’t say anything. You didn’t leave a trail?”
“I did—it won’t matter—” Alarms went off inside the building and I pressed the accelerator.
“I’m not going to ask.”
“Okay.”
“Get his phone and shut it off.”
“Done.”
The next twenty minutes passed in silence. Mr. Cole began to groan at one point and Rome kicked him. That shut him up.
We needed a good spot and this wasn’t our territory. Hell, we were hell and gone from our territory. But I had a few ideas. While Rome went shopping, I’d done a couple of web searches locally.
The place I’d picked out should work.
We had everything we needed in the back.
It took another half hour to get to the abandoned train yard. There were rail cars sitting idle, covered in graffiti. A chain link fence was all that stood between us and getting in. They didn’t even have cameras.
I clipped the padlock and replaced it with another.
Cole had begun to really resurface and he thrashed in the back, at least until Rome put a foot on his throat. Then the guy just gurgled until he passed out again.
My brother was pissed.
So was I.
After driving through the gates and securing them with my own padlock, I headed for the northwestern corner of the train yard, where it backed up toward a deserted field covered in trash and debris.
Yeah, no one came here.
Maybe some kids.
We could deal with them.
I found exactly what I was looking for, a stack of rail cars I could park in between. A couple of them stood open. Between us, it took no time to drag Mr. Cole into one of the cars and lash him up.
“Who the fuck are you?” he demanded, but neither of us answered.
Once we had him lashed in place, I went back for the kit and wrapped my hands. Rome waited, almost dispassionately, for me. Once I was back and we had the plastic spread out, the guy tried to lash out. He kicked at us—well me. But he never landed.
“I said, who the fuck are you?”
Rome raised his phone. There was a picture of Emersyn on it. The guy paled.
Yep. He knew her.
When Rome slid the photo to the next and showed the scars on her arms, sweat broke out on his forehead.
He did it. He cut her up.
Confirmation.
“We’re vengeance,” I informed him. “You touched someone you shouldn’t have.”