“That it is,” she grants.
Since she’s content, I move to slip my boots on. “You said you have a gun?”
“I’ve got a pistol in my backpack,” she replies.
“I’ll grab it,” Gage offers, disappearing into the master bedroom and returning a few seconds later with Rena’s backpack in hand.
She takes it from him, and judging by our stares, she astutely determines that we’d like her to produce it, but just in case, Gage makes it clear.
“You can’t kill someone with a gun stowed in a bag.”
“I wasn’t invited to do the killing tonight, Big Guy,” she retorts while opening a false compartment, which is surely how she managed to carry a weapon inside a club, aside from batting her flirty eyelashes.
In a nonchalant move, she furnishes herpistol. That may be the technical categorization of the weapon in her hand, but it presents much more like a submachine gun.
“What the fuck?” I hiss. “You cart a CZ Scorpion Micro around in your damn backpack?”
She shrugs while Gage and I gape at her.
“Noires don’t fuck around,” she says, and for the briefest second, a hollowness sails over her, but she masks it. “It’s easy to conceal because it’s only fourteen inches. Axel and Ryker make me carry it everywhere.”
It also has a folding brace that, when snapped into place, essentially transforms it into a short-barreled rifle, which needs to be registered with the ATF. Pistols don’t, so this is a clever workaround. Her brothers wanted to ensure that if she needed to take someone out, she couldn’t miss. It will certainly get the job done.
“Did you have it with you at the dress shop?” I question. Liam told me he had given her his spare gun and she handled it like a pro.
“Yes.” She huffs with an eye roll, as though this isn’t the first time she’s fielded this inquisition. “But my bag got thrown, so it wasn’t initially available.”
My molars sink into the fleshy inside of my cheek. “Right. Like Gage said, you can’t shoot a gun stowed in a bag. Keep it out.”
Gage bobs his head, smirking at her with a glint of pride. “I think she’s good. Let’s go, brother.”
We say our goodbyes, lock up the house, and hop into Gage’s Ram 1500 TRX truck.
Relaxing in the seat, I open the app on my phone to view my Little Moon. “She’s one surprise after another.”
“She sure is.” He smiles, programming the address into the GPS and taking off.
I rest my arm on the windowsill, mulling over the things she said while I watch her. “She knows her mom had an affair, and I think she’s aware that Balzano is her father. I’m not sure she understands what that means or even knows who Johnny Balzano is though.”
“I figured as much,” he muses. “Doesn’t fucking matter. Hayden Noire was a bastard too. Why the hell would she care which asshole created her? She belongs to her brothers.” And after another beat, he tacks on, “She belongs to us.”
As much as I agree with that sentiment and love how seamlessly she fits, it’s not that simple. Not for her.
He’s silent for a good five minutes, so I finally dive into what he’s not saying. What I’ve repeatedly asked to be left out of because I was convinced the knowledge of someone hurting her—or her family—would unhinge me.
It still might.
“Did Axel set the fire that killed her parents?”
“Yes.” He glances over at me, confirming that I want to know whatever he’s about to spill. When I offer a curt nod, he expounds, “But he thought it was only his father in the house. Johnny Balzano discovered Axel’s plan, knocked out Leslie Noire—their mom—and stashed her in there before the fire.”
Motherfucker.
TY
We’ve been casing the house for about three hours, perched inside one of their outbuildings. During that time, people have continued to trickle into what appears to be a party. Although the arrivals seem to have petered out in the last thirty minutes. I’m guessing this is a nightly meetup for them.
We believe we have approximately twenty-two fighting-age males, give or take one or two. Our thermal imaging scanner is accurate and indicates twenty-eight warm bodies, but we believe there’s also approximately six innocent females. Could be girlfriends, but that seems doubtful with the manner in which they’re being passed around. Either way, we’ll let them go with a friendly reminder to keep their mouths shut. In anticipation of their presence, we even parked a car at the intersection of two nearby streets, keys inside. It’s not pretty, but it was purchased with cash, so they can keep it. Hopefully, they’ll see this as their lucky day.
