Pressing the button on the device in my ear, I repeat the all clear and jog towards the house.
“You good?” my brother asks, lifting a dark brow when I crouch down beside him under the living room window, huffing and puffing like I just ran a marathon.
“Yeah,” I choke out.
Shaking his head, he turns his attention back to our five-man crew. “I know we already voted on this, but I have to be sure everyone is still on board because if we go any further, thiswillstart a war with the Valenciaga family.” He gives us a minute to let that sink in. Fucking with them isn’t nothing. If we poke this big fucking bear, it will poke back.
“And that means a war with the Sinners,” I say the quiet part out loud.
It’s clear from the look on everyone’s faces that nobody needs any extra time to think about it. We’re far from good men, but there are lines we won’t cross, and this is one of them. We don’t hurt women, children, and those who can’t protect themselves.
“Fuck those cocksuckers,” Journey quietly rumbles.
Bash and Gator nod their agreement.
“Looks like it’s settled, big brother.”
“Good,” Tacoma grunts. “Let’s go.”
Lifting my boot, I kick in the front door. It rips from the hinges, giving way to a man in nothing but a pair of black boxers, sitting in a recliner with a beer in hand and his eyes wide with shock. I don’t give him time to react. One pull of the trigger and his brains paint the wall behind him.
Lights out, motherfucker.
Journey moves past me as another man comes rushing out of the kitchen, gun raised. Lifting his pistol, my best friend squeezes the trigger, putting a bullet right through the bastard’s heart.
“Tim-Ber,” Journey says morbidly as the man falls to the floor face-first like a felled tree.
Three more shots ring out from the other side of the house, and I start to move in that direction when Gator comes through the kitchen. “All clear,” he confirms as he steps over the dead man Journey shot.
With the house secure, I start down the hall to check the rooms. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end when I get to the first door and find it locked from the outside. Fuck. I steel my nerves, because I know in my gut that whatever I’m about to find won’t be good.
Sliding the bolt to the side, I push the door open and stop dead in my tracks as bile rises in my throat.
Journey steps up beside me. “What’d you find—“ The words die on his lips as we both take in the scene.
Two naked women are huddled together on a dirty mattress in the corner of the room. Their eyes are bloodshot, pupils dilated. They’ve been drugged. Feeling eyes on them, they turn towards us, and the smaller woman whimpers.
“Hey, hey,” I say softly, lifting my hands, hoping to show her that I’m not a threat. “It’s okay. We’re here to help you.”
Scurrying farther into the corner, they try to make themselves smaller.
Shit.
“Is either of you Heather?” I ask gently.
They shake their heads, still trembling.
“Stay with them,” I tell Journey as I move down the hall to the next door and push it open, finding another woman in far worse shape than the last two. She’s lying on a bed, staring blankly at the wall, her body covered in bruises.
“Are you Heather?” I ask, keeping my distance so I don’t frighten her more than she already is.
She turns her head towards me, revealing dark bruises in a perfect handprint around her neck.
Motherfucker. Someone got off on hurting this poor woman.
Closing my eyes, I send up a promise to the gods that if it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to kill every motherfucker who had a hand in this.
Opening my eyes, I try again, asking, “Are you Heather, Darlin’?” but her eyes remain vacant as she stares right through me.
