“I don’t have time, April,” I snap at her, not in the mood to argue. I have somewhere to be.
“When will you be back?” she asks softly.
“Don’t wait up,” I say before I head out of the house and into my garage.
I start my car, open the garage door, and back out, squealing my tires as I drive out of the gate. Heading toward the Airport.
I pull up to the back and park. I grab the bag out of my back seat and enter the building. I take the broken escalator two at a time and enter the room.
Turner sits at the table, waiting for me.
“Is he here?” I ask.
He nods, his eyes dropping to the bag. “Ready?”
We make our way downstairs to the underground tunnels. This existing, functional airport had a bomb shelter back in the seventies. They have safe rooms that the Masons use as prison cells. They have their own law enforcement at the Airport.
We proceed through the tunnels and take a right at the end. Turner unlocks the master lock and yanks the door open. A man sits in the middle of the room, his arms strapped to a chair.
He lifts his bloody face. “Grave?” He fights the restraints. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Jimmy Trust,” I say with a smile.
His eyes narrow. “I knew you were into some sick shit.”
Turner laughs. “I think you’re referring to me.”
“What is this?” he demands.
“Going to pretend you don’t know why you’re here?” I ask.
“Is this because I went and visited your girl?” I tilt my head to the side. “You can’t blame me, right? That purple hair?—”
I punch him in the face, cutting him off.
His head hangs forward, and he spits blood onto the floor.
“What about my sister?” Turner asks.
“What about that whore?” he snaps.
Turner smirks. “Why did you kill her?”
“What are you talking about? She committed suicide.”
“Did she?” he asks, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Because after Grave saved her life, I installed cameras in her penthouse.”
Jimmy’s eyes widen, but he recovers quickly. “Like to watch your sister fuck, Turner? You Mason brothers really are sick.”
Turner holds his phone in front of Jimmy and pushes play. The small room fills with Lucy’s laugh.
“Let’s get fucked up,” Jimmy’s voice says.
“That’s foreplay talk there,” she tells him.
I’ve seen the video. Turner showed me at her funeral earlier today. The other brothers don’t know. As far as they are concerned, Lucy Mason committed suicide, and Turner wants it to stay that way. I’m not going to ask for his reasoning. His sister, his family—his revenge.
Turner allows it to play. They laugh and talk about nothing in particular as they swallow pills and down alcohol. Then Jimmy says, “Let’s fuck.”
