“Can’t do that, Rhett. Lying isn’t a level I’d stoop to. Besides, it’s not like he’s going to be using it anytime soon.” His nonchalance should be unsettling, but this is Kade, and nothing he ever does comes as a surprise anymore. “You needed a truck, and I got you one.”
“Are you trying to get us arrested? Fucking hell, Kade.”
“Nice horse, Rhett. A little high and mighty, though. Besides, I’ve been meaning to move it for a while now. We need to keep his presence alive, even though he’s rotting in the dirt.”
A hand appears between the seats, forcing me to crane my neck. “Which is why we used these.” My gaze flicks to the bank cards in Cole’s grip and the name embossed in the plastic.Toby S. Johnson.“Who needs cash when you can use a dead man’s credit cards? Thehotel is on Toby, and I made sure it was the best suite they had.”
Shaking my head, I put my foot on the gas and keep moving. “There is something seriously wrong with all of you,” I grunt.
Kade tosses his head back as he barks out a laugh. “Says the guy that’s draggin’ his three brothers across state lines to commit a double homicide. Hypocrite much.”
As I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I run my fingers along my freshly shaved jaw. It feels unfamiliar beneath my touch, skin still tight from the razor, exposed in a way that makes me feel stripped down to the rawest version of myself, and more importantly, unrecognizable.
I swallow the lump forming in the base of my throat and step back into the suite where my brothers are setting up. Kade’s stretched out on the bed, boots still on, hands laced behind his head like he’s killing time. But his eyes lift the second I move, tracking me without effort. “I called Sage. She and Noah are okay. Said Jo’s already planning margaritas and bad decisions.”
“Thanks.” My gaze wanders the room without conscious effort. “I’ll phone later and check in.”
I cut across the suite toward the balcony. Cables trail from the table to the wall, looping under my boots as I step over them. Jace’s fingers keep moving, tapping out a rhythm that doesn’t falter when my shadow passes over his screen. Cole shifts to give me room without looking up, the camera feed on his laptop adjusting as he does.
The curtain brushes my knuckles as I reach the glass and push it aside, the city’s lights bleeding in around the edges. The gentleman’s club across the street glows low and discreet, its name etched in brushed metal, windows blacked out, the kind of place that pretends refinement while feeding on secrecy. I stare at it longer than necessary, my reflection faint in the glass, jaw bare, eyes already hard.
“Is everything set?” I grunt.
“Yeah.” Cole lifts the baseball cap from his head and drops it next to his laptop. “Everything went as planned.”
“Marcus and Paulie are arriving an hour before Bradley,” Jace confirms. “That should give you enough time to get in and out.”
Kade rolls from the bed and comes to stand next to me. “And nothing can trace back to us?”
“No.” Jace shakes his head. “We were able to hack into their emails and send invites. Trust us, when his buddies show up dead, Bradley will be the only suspect.”
“How did you convince him to accept the invite?”
Cole chuckles. “It was easy enough. They meet here regularly, according to their other exchanges.”
“Typical Monday night for the rich and shameless,” Jace raises a brow.
“As for cameras,” Cole quips, seeming pleased. “There are none inside the building. Only entrances and exits.”Of course, there aren’t. Men like this don’t want proof. They want immunity. “Once we’re a go, I can loop the back entrance feeds,” he continues, “allowing you both to get in without needing to sign in at the front desk. The mandatory masks will help once you’re inside.”
“Mandatory masks?” Kade chuckles. “Kinky!”
“Some of the most powerful men in the country are inside,” Jace adds. “A-listers. Politicians. Faces people trust.”
My jaw tightens, a slow, deliberate clench. “And Bradley’s VIP room?”
“Second floor. Third door on the left.”
Kade’s eyes cut to me. “You got everything you need?”
I don’t check my pockets. I don’t inventory the bag. I don’t think about blood or noise or aftermath.
I think about Noah’s mouth at my ear on the porch. About the way she didn’t ask me to stop. About the promise I made without dressing it up as mercy. “Yes.” The word doesn’t shake. It doesn’t ask forgiveness. I letthe curtain fall back into place, cutting the club from view even though it’s already carved itself into my focus.
“Then let’s do this.”
These men put their hands on the love of my life like she was nothing. I’m about to show them how personal that mistake was.
One question races to the forefront of my mind.Is this the man you want to be? The kind who kills for love?I smile to myself.Abso-fucking-lutely.
