Carlyle
Glaring at my computer screen, I tapped my temple as I examined the photographs that’d been taken of Valerie’s apartment. The damage wasn’t bad enough to suggest instant death, but she would’ve been seriously injured, maimed even, if she was near that box when it went off. Her sofa was blasted backward— the wall had a huge dent, and the coffee table was sticking out of the drywall. If she’d been holding that box, she probably would’ve died, but she didn’t.
But she could’ve.
“Fuck.” My lip curled as I sat back in my chair, and I tore my eyes off the monitor to level with Oran. “What did Jerry find out with that sealed record?”
“Natasha and Valerie were ‘kidnapped’ by Baron Ninety-Nine when they were thirteen and held for six days. They’re a small-time gang that has been escalating over the past seven years or so. The estimated numbers are just under two thousand, but they’re not reliable. According to the extensive evaluations in the report, both were sexually abused, but Valerie took it much harder. There were suggestions that their mother was paying off a debt, but they couldn’t get anything more substantial. When she went to jail the first time, Valerie and Natasha were sixteen. Valerie’s grades improved incredibly after they were emancipated, and she and Natasha both received full rides to college from a survivor group based in Dallas.” Oran spoke with no emotion even as mine threatened to spiral out of control, and he paused for a fraction of a second to breathe. “In jail, their mother was pimped out by female members of Baron Ninety-Nine.”
“What else?” I could fucking smell it— he was waiting to dump the real bad news on me, and my brother rubbed his jaw harshly.
“Their father’s not dead. He’s in witness protection and opted to leave his family behind. We haven’t found him yet, but Greg’s working on it. He faked his death after witnessing a murder by Baron Ninety-Nine back in two thousand three. The trial never went anywhere. According to what Greg could find, the mother’s involvement with them is coincidental. Valerie and Natasha’s father is reported to have died in a horrible car wreck with nothing to recover.”
“Shit.” This was inarguably much, much worse than the whole Italian ordeal, and I raked my hand through my hair as my mind whirred furiously. “Contact the Network. Two hundred fifty thousand dollars for every Baron Ninety-Nine member confirmed dead. Also, did you get anywhere on the sketch?”
“Not yet. Pedro hasn’t called back yet, either.” Reluctance soured my tongue, and my lip curled in a snarl as I drummed my fingers on the desk. “I have someone going to find the mother.”
“They better be good.” Pushing myself up, I stalked past Oran and clenched my hands into tight, white-knuckle fists. Theo was waiting outside the door, and I licked my teeth as fire engulfed my heart. “Is Illya back?”
“She’s in there now.” I knew he was pissed about her foot, but if Theo so much as looked at me wrong, I’d fucking shoot him in the head. “What do you want me to do?”
“Team up and go to Dallas. Jerry will give you your targets by the time you land. Find them, but don’t kill them. Do it before five p.m. tomorrow, and every trigger hungry cunt in the country will be descending on Texas. As long as you do it fast, I don’t care who you bring.” Talking and walking at the same time was so exhausting, and I scanned Theo sidelong when I stopped to punch the elevator button with my thumb. “Also, make a bomb and blow up one of Pedro’s warehouses. I’m sure that’ll be an incentive to call me back. Do that first thing.”
“Carlyle, it’s only been two hours si—” Whipping around, I backhanded Oran across the face, and he dropped like a bag of bricks as his glasses flew off his face.
“I didn’t fucking ask you how long it’s been!” He kept his head down, wiping blood from his nose, and my snarl echoed down the hallway. My knuckles didn’t throb, and I tugged my jacket and sucked in a sharp breath before the elevator doors opened. Glaring at Oran for a hot moment, I turned on my heel and entered the elevator. Theo cleared his throat roughly to get my attention.
“What about the snake?”
“She’s on her way. I don’t care if she gets dragged, kicking and screaming. Carl hasn’t failed me yet.” That kid was good at being bad, I’ll give him that, and I frowned as my brother stood up before the doors slid shut completely. Leaning back on the wall, I rubbed my face with both my hands and inhaled a huge, calming breath. “Make sure whoever you bring to Texas knows that if any of those assholes end up dead, I’ll kill you and your whole team.”
“Good thing I’m going by myself.” Arching a brow, I shot Theo a quizzical look, but he just shrugged, stuffing his fists in his jeans. “I don’t have anyone to call, anyway.”
“Can you handle it all yourself? Take Llane— she’ll be your assistant.” He didn’t argue with me, and I tilted my head back as the elevator vertigo tried to drag me down. “How do I deal with Valerie?”
“If there’s one thing I learned, it’s not to stick your nose where she doesn’t want it. She’ll come to you when she wants. Don’t go to her. Illya’s in there right now. She’ll let you know.” Nodding, my heart twisted at how absurd this whole thing was, and Theo blustered a sigh and rolled his shoulders. “Where’s your father? I thought he’d be in the middle of this relishing the chaos.”
“It’s not chaotic. Not his brand, anyway.” The doors opened, and I stepped out as Theo reached to push the ground-floor button. “The plane’s ready for you. Take whatever you think is necessary.”
“Yeah.” And he was gone behind a wall of thin steel. Theo would get the job done. He hated shit like this, an innocent woman being terrorized for the fault of others.
“What the fuck is going on?” Valerie’s father wasn’t dead. She’d been kidnapped and assaulted, but I hadn’t gotten the faintest inkling of any of that trauma. Her mother . . . I was going to enjoy killing her.
I needed more information, though. Hopefully, that desert snake would be forthcoming, or I’d have to get creative.
My phone trilled insistently, and I pulled the device from my pocket on my way across the bridge.
“What?” Oran panted slightly on the line, and I shoved my way through the door in an effort to relieve some of the tension in my body.
“The snake just arrived. She’s not happy, and she brought her massive ass dog.” My eyelid twitched in agitation before I whipped around on my heel and headed back the way I came. I took the stairs this time, because I sure as fuck wasn’t waiting for that metal box, and I hung up on Oran as my brain threatened to melt as it whirred too fast. Opening a side door opposite the one I usually used, I took a massive breath of the fresh, crisp air, and it only fueled the raging emotions in me.
Esmarissa looked as . . . unique . . . as usual when she stepped out of the car, and Oran really wasn’t lying about that dog. He was big for a pit bull, and I strode over to his master as she ran her fingers through her long, electric blue locks.
“At what fucking point does ‘you work for me’ insinuate that you can hide dealings from me?” She opened her mouth, her disgusting tongue ring glistening under the floodlights illuminating the lot, and my eyes narrowed into fine points. “Think about your answer. I’m not in the most forgiving mood.”
If there was one—one— fucking thing this snake knew, it was how to navigate a man that could easily fly off the handle. She crossed an arm under her bust, rocking back on her heels, and her dog trotted over to me to sniff my shoes. He came up to my thigh at the shoulder— truly, an exception to the rule— and I patted his head to feel his prickly, short fur.
“She called me, yeah, but I hung up on her as soon as she introduced herself. I have enough on my plate— I don’t want to deal with someone who won’t be a repeat customer or conflict with my current ones.” Scanning her long face, I clenched and released my jaw, but there wasn’t a hint of a lie in her tone. “Besides, there’s no fucking way I’d ever consider what she apparently wanted, anyway. I run a talent agency, first and foremost, and those girls are off-limits. From what I’ve heard, Diamon wanted my best actresses for his little scheme. He’ll just have to outwit you the old-fashioned way, Carlyle.”
“Is your brother still breeding these monsters?” Briefly changing topic, I hummed when Esmarissa nodded, and I made a mental note to contact the guy. “What do you know about Baron Ninety-Nine?”
“Those are the guys we got our drugs from back in the day. Smalltime idiots—they’re basically a subdivision of Sinaloa . . . or they were until they fucked up somehow, I assume?” Nodding, I knelt down to look the dog in the face, and he fucking smiled that pit bull smile at me. “I can ask Sammy, but it’s been years. He’s got a lot of blows to the head.”
“You’re staying here tonight. I wan—” The suddenbangof metal on brick echoed through the quad, and my head snapped up at the sound. Valerie sauntered out of the apartment complex, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in her hand, and Natasha and Illya came rushing— well, hobbling— after trying to get her back inside. Her watery, brown eyes met mine, and I held my breath as she made her way over to sidle up under my arm.
She wasice cold,and the freezer burn of her body ate through my jacket and shirt to sting my side.
“Oh, can I get some of that?” Valerie held out the bottle, and Esmarissa took a huge gulp to sigh hotly. “Good. So anyway, I really don’t care what you’re doing, but I had no part in it, Carlyle. Whatever bullshit is going on, I don’t want any part of that, either.”
“You’re not here because of that. You’re here for something else. I hope you didn’t have weekend plans.” This conversation ended, and I gestured to Illya as she watched from a few feet away. “Put them somewhere. I don’t care where. And get the dog a treat.”
