A couple of women wearing FBI vests are handing girls to people outside through the broken window frames. A few men with DEA stamped across their backs are trading punches with some of the Saints over by the hidden section of the room, stopping them from gaining access to the guns stored there.
I don’t spot Howie among them, and I’m wondering where the fuck he and Diesel are.
Other men, wearing plain black military garb, are eliminating members of The Sainthood in a shoot-first-ask-questions-later mentality.
“Lo!” Theo comes racing across the room as the rope breaks on Mom’s feet.
“Is Caz okay?” I ask as Theo slides around the table on his knees.
“He’s gone after Saint. He chased Sinner out into the hall.”
Fuck. I want to go after them, because I don’t trust Sinner, but I can’t leave Mom.
Theo instantly senses my dilemma. “Go. I’ll look after your mom.”
“She’s been shot.” My voice wobbles.
“Harlow.” Mom lifts her chin, blinking her eyes open. “I’m okay. Go do what you need to.”
I grip Theo’s arm. “Check on Galen. He’s under the table with Alisha. Sinner stabbed her.”
Grabbing Sinner’s gun off the floor where it landed, I crouch down, flattening myself to the wall as I make my way out of the ballroom and along the dark hallway.
A couple of guys in leather cuts lie motionless on the floor, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. I step over their corpses, inching forward carefully. Gunfire dies out behind me as the authorities gain the upper hand, and a thin layer of stress leaves my shoulders, but it’s marginal, because two of my guys are out here with the devil incarnate and Mom and Alisha are injured back in the ballroom.
I pass through the lobby, glancing out the open entrance door at the trucks and vans parked haphazardly across the front lawn. A few men wander around, talking into mouthpieces, but for the most part, everyone is inside.
Carefully, I pick my way along the far hallway, checking each room in turn, growing more and more anxious as I encounter empty spaces. This monstrosity is huge, and I’m despairing of ever locating them when a gunshot goes off on my left, from the direction of the rear gardens, and I take off running for the back door.
All is quiet when I step out onto the stained gray stones, creeping around the house, in the direction of the maze, with my back flat to the wall.
“Fucking fuckity fuck!”
My heart stops beating. “Caz,” I hiss, sneaking around the bend with my gun raised, unsure of what I’ll find.
“Lo. Thank God.” Caz runs toward me.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” I scan his face under the faint glow of the outside lamps.
“I’m fine. It’s Saint. He’s in the maze somewhere with Sinner, and I can’t find them.”
I grip the gun tighter. “Saint knows that maze better than Sinner. If anyone has the upper hand, it’s him.”
A shot rings out from inside the maze, followed by shouting. “I’m going in. Stay here in case we need help.” I wish I had my cell with me, but it’s sitting in my purse back at the table.
“Do you even know where you’re going?” He holds on to my waist, not wanting to let me go after them.
“I went over the plans with the gardener.” I tap my temple. “It’s memorized in here.” I stretch up, pecking his lips. “Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”
“I’ll always worry.” He kisses me hard. “And I’m not letting you go in there by yourself. We’ll find Saint together.”
I don’t bother arguing, because there’s no time to waste.
We run toward the maze, and Caz stops me at the entrance. “That motherfucker can’t leave here alive today.” His eyes drill into mine, and I nod, already realizing that truth.
The initial plan had been to get Sinner locked up. To ensure justice was served, but that’s not going to happen now. Sinner would never make it to trial. Randall or the head of Homeland Security or some other corrupt bastard within the very organizations supposed to champion justice would ensure he “committed suicide” or had an unfortunate accident before he ever stepped foot in a courtroom.
That bastard deserves to die at our hands—not anyone else’s.
“Stay down and stay behind me,” I whisper as we enter the maze.
Working off gut instinct, I veer left, hoping my memory is serving me well and that I’m heading in the direction of the place Galen loves most. He took me here that one time when we were kids, explaining how it was his favorite part of the maze because it had a wooden bench, a small water feature, and a stone toy chest his grandma had installed just for him and his sister. Galen and Saint were practically joined at the hip growing up, so if Saint is hiding anywhere in here, staking out his dad, I’d bet my left tit he’s there.
My arm whips out, holding Caz back when voices tickle my eardrums up ahead.
“Drop it, or I’ll kill you right now,” Sinner says, raising all the hairs on my arms.
I point right to Caz, cautiously slithering around the other side of the neat shrubbery so we can scope out the scene.
“You won’t get away with this,” Saint spits out. “The place is crawling with Feds, DEA, and VERO.”
“You think I haven’t planned for this day?” Sinner chuckles. “I’ve known this day would come, and no crooked motherfucker is taking me out. You’ll like where we’re going. The ocean is crystal clear, the sky a cloudless blue, and there’s untapped pussy for the taking.”
“You’re insane. You won’t make it out of this house alive.”
Slowly, I poke my head around the corner, sucking in a sharp breath when I see the predicament Saint is in. Sinner has him in a firm headlock with a knife at his jugular.
“You have such little faith,” Sinner says, moving them forward a few steps. “I have a crew waiting at the back of the property and a private jet being fueled at a private airfield as we speak.”
“Then leave me here and go,” Saint says.
Sinner chuckles. “I’m going nowhere without you, son. Contrary to what you think, I love you.”
This is such bullshit. Sinner must be bluffing, unless Randall tipped him off, but that doesn’t make sense. It’s probably a ruse to attempt to get Saint to leave with him.
“What a crock of shit,” Caz whispers, mirroring my thoughts. I nod while computing solutions. I can’t shoot Sinner from this angle without risking Saint, but if we move around and he spots us, he could kill Saint before I get to end him.
“Well, I don’t love you.” Saint slams his head back into his father’s skull while simultaneously elbowing him in the ribs. It’s enough to free him from Sinner’s hold, and it’s most likely our only opportunity.
I race toward them. “Get down,” I roar, raising my gun. Saint dives on the ground as Sinner grabs at him, and I take my shot. The bullet lodges in Sinner’s shoulder, and an animalistic howl rips from his mouth. Stalking toward him, I plant another bullet in his other shoulder and one in his knee. He drops to the ground, screaming in agony, as Caz rushes to Saint, helping him stand. I press down on Sinner’s hand to loosen his hold on his knife, but he’s already dropped it somewhere. Bones crunch under my foot, and Sinner roars, rolling on his side and clutching his knee.