“Brother, I know.” Gary’s voice is low and respectful. “I know it’s costing you even to say those words. I know you want to be here, on the ground now. But we’ll get her out, okay?”
“Aye, I’ll call as soon as I hear from Harris, and we’ll coordinate ground movements.”
“Going through them as we speak. Be chill.”
I end the call and look up to see Da on his phone, his expression thunderous.
“When? Casualties? Any civilians? Call our contact in the police division there. Make sure they know the risks when they approach the building.”
He taps his phone against his forehead before ending the call and throwing his phone across the bank of seats. “Thosemotherfeckers found the location of the warehouse where we were holding Grayson Armstrong. They threw a canister of the tear gas into the building fifteen minutes ago. It killed Armstrong and three of our people. No civilians harmed.”
“Goddamnit!” Michael paces the aisle, running his hands through his hair. “Did they leave a message, Uncle Dougal?”
“Aye,” Da growls. “The message was, your family is next.”
Logan looks ill. “This means they have the formula, they’ve compounded the gas, and it’s ready to go. If we dinna get to them before they sell it to Harris…”
“They want me as part of the deal,” I say, gripping his shoulder. “We have time.”
“Not much,” Da says, “but aye, we do. Everyone’s dispersing off the MacTavish estate, standard evasion moves. If they somehow get past us, they’re bombing an empty building.”
When my phone rings an hour later, the screen reads Unknown Caller. I know exactly who it is. I only wish I could pull Malcolm Harris through the speaker and tear him in half. If Luna’s grandfather knowingly offered her up, his punishment will go on long after he begs for death.
“Hello, Kai. Do you know who this is?” Malcolm Harris’s voice was deep, a raspy smoker’s voice and unbearably smug.
I want to say,Ya have the love of my life. If ya harm a single hair on her head, I will shred the skin off your bloated corpse.But men like Harris don’t understand love. So, I say, “You have something of mine, Harris.”
Luna…
Kurt is blessedly silent as we get closer to the Harris compound, a massive section of the valley with a palatial main house and several smaller - though equally ostentatious - mini-mansions around it. There are multiple swimming pools and a riding stable. Collin pointed it out to me during a scenic drive a couple of days ago.
“Why don’t you live in the compound?” I’d asked.
“Caroline was unhappy there,” he’d said, sadness creasing his brow the way it always did when he talked about her. “She wanted to raise our kids away from…” He gestured at the estate as we passed it. “Away from all that.”
But, back to Kurt.
He’s too happy, smiling and humming a song I don’t recognize. I’ve seen him sneer, and I’ve heard him laugh when something wasn’t funny, but genuine happiness? I can’t guess what brings him joy. I don’t know how lizards think.
As the towering iron gates open for the car, he finally speaks. “Uncle Malcolm has a hell of a night planned. It should be interesting.”
“I thought we were coming here for your dad?” I ask.
He glances over briefly before pulling into the circular driveway. “You still don’t call him grandpa, do you? It makes me wonder if you care about him at all.”
“Well…” Deep talk from Kurt? “I do care about him. But I did just find out that I have a family. It takes a minute to adjust. But Collin? He’s a wonderful person, and I’m honored to be related to him.”
He laughs like that is just the most entertaining thing he’s heard all year.“Dad?A wonderful person? Jesus Christ, what side ishe showing you? He’s the head enforcer for the Harris Mafia. Do you understand what that means? Did your fake husband tell you anything about this world?”
“He’s not a fake husband,” I say sharply, turning to glare at him. “We’re legally married and, in fact, are planning a blowout wedding at his family’s estate.”
And you will not be invited, I silently add.
Wait. We’re not having a big wedding. I should be looking for divorce papers in the mail any day.
It feels like I just got punched in the heart.
Kurt stops in front of the house, parking his BMW at the end of a long row of expensive cars. “A real husband?” His hand comes up, and I flinch back. He grins and elaborately brushes some hair off my face. “What kind of a real husband lets his wife leave with a stranger, huh?”
