Didn’t matter that Drew suffered. Didn’t matter that she believed her siblings were dead and that she might be wallowing in grief. It was always a fuck-you to anything that wasn’t what Savannah thought was the right thing to do. Drew got it, logically. But personally, it was a hard pill to swallow. Following in Savannah’s footsteps had always been the worst. And just when she thought she’d gotten away from it all, Savannah pulledanother one of these stunts—and she was right back in there. Drew hated it. Being on the outside.
Whatever.
She leaned back on the couch and scrolled again. Cross’s name appeared on the screen. Should she call him? It would be reopening an old wound. And it would suck more than anything. But if she didn’t call, and something unfixable happened to him, the guilt might be more crushing than his betrayal when he’d dumped her. She wouldn’t saddle herself with that. If she called then whatever happened after that was on him.
She drew a deep breath and hit the number. She listened as the phone rang on the other end… until his voicemail picked up. And then she shut it off. She wasn’t going to leave a voicemail. She didn’t really want to hear his voice.
“Well, that’s it,” she mumbled. “I’ve done my best. I reached out. No one answered.” She blew out another breath.
If only it were that simple.
If Dunlop was right and Octavio Rodriguez had already put the word out on Cross—and offered two hundred fifty grand—then there’d already be bounty hunters after him. The Weasel, for one. She tried to find the bright side. The fact that she couldn’t reach him or her siblings could be a good thing. Maybe they already knew. Maybe they were all in hiding.
She frowned. Honestly, it didn’t matter if they were in hiding or on some tropical island vacationing. The fact that nobody was answering gnawed her gut. She let out a long sigh. There was nothing for it—she was going to have to go to Bayou Mambaloa.
A shudder slid down her back, and her skin prickled like a bug was crawling across it. Great. Now she was psyching herself out. Drew stood up. She had no choice. Her conscience wouldn’t let her avoid the danger.
That was the problem. The whole world thought she was tough as hell and didn’t care about anybody. It was a distinctionshe’d spent years cultivating. The truth was far different. Yes, she was tough. Tough as hell. But she cared. She cared about everybody. And she hurt far deeper than most people understood.
She headed for her bedroom, already mentally packing. The only thing left to do was load up the truck and hit the road. It was a long drive. She would keep trying their numbers the entire way.
It took no time for her to get on the road. She wasn’t one to dally once she made a decision. A few hours later, she stopped for gas. She tried again—all three phones. Still nothing.
She checked on the gun she had in the console next to her. She’d brought three guns with her, but she was starting to wonder if she might need more. Not that she loved guns—she didn’t. She usually relied on her pepper spray and her stun gun. Up close, in-your-face deterrents.
But this situation called for something with more stopping power. If the Weasel was already on the job, it wouldn’t be long before he found them. Yes, her sister and brother were damn good at hiding, but the Weasel was excellent at what he did. And he had contacts everywhere.
Her anxiety ratcheted up another notch. Stress surged through her system as she tried their phones one more time. None of them picked up. After a quick stop in the restroom, she got back on the road. She glanced up at the heavy gray clouds. Hopefully, the weather would hold, and she’d make it to her destination in a few hours. The last thing she needed was a monsoon-like downpour that the south was famous for.
Drew rolledto a stop at the edge of town. It hadn’t occurred to her that she didn’t actually have anyone’s address. How stupid was that? She was so distracted by the situation—just by hearing Cross’s name—that she’d completely forgotten she didn’t know exactly where he lived. Oh, she knew the town. But she didn’t know where.
She parked on the side of the road and pulled out her laptop, using her cell as a hotspot. Not like there was a whole lot of Wi-Fi around. Time to dig.
Real estate records were her best bet. It wasn’t like Cross was going to be listed in a phone book, and asking people in town would be a bad idea. A seriously bad idea. She’d made that mistake before—in her early days. Asking around always set off a chain reaction. In towns like this, people talked. Word got around fast. And while that kind of chatter might eventually lead to her target, it also tipped off anyone else who might be searching. In this case, that would be very, very bad. So, she kept her mouth shut and kept digging.
It didn’t take long. There were company holdings in the area, and one name stood out immediately—one that made her lips twitch despite the tension in her chest. The company was called Totally Legit Business Ventures, LLC. She let out a breathy laugh. That had her brother’s sense of humor all over it. It was a joke from their youth.
She kept scrolling, looking for anything else familiar. Sure enough—there it was. Garden State Holdings. Cross was from New Jersey. He always missed home. No doubt this one was his. She pulled up the address on the map. Not too far. A little out of town. That tracked.
Drew put the car in gear and set off. It took her about ten minutes until she made the final turn onto his road. Then she stopped. If she wasn’t the only one looking for him, the last thing she wanted to do was point the way for someone else. She’d been careful. She hadn’t been followed—she was sure of it. But that didn’t mean someone wasn’t already ahead of her.
She rolled slowly down the road until she spotted a break in the trees. Thick Spanish moss dangled like tattered veils from towering cypress trees. Palmettos fanned out low to the ground, and the bayou whispered all around her—frogs croaking in the distance, the faint rustle of something slithering through the undergrowth. The air hung heavy with humidity, the scent of stagnant water and wet earth pressed in on all sides.
She pulled her Porsche into the gap, nestling it between the trees as best she could, half-camouflaged by the hanging moss and foliage. The dirt beneath her tires was soft, damp. Then she sat there. She had to get out eventually and go look. But honestly? The place freaked her out. She hated bugs. Like, had a massive phobia about them, and this swamp was bug heaven. She shuddered as she sat listening to the world around her.
There was something disorienting about the stillness of the Louisiana Bayou. The way it wrapped around her SUV like it was alive, watching. Waiting. She exhaled and gripped the steering wheel. She was going to have to move. But for now, she gave herself just a minute to gather her courage.
CHAPTER 4
It wasn’t goingto get any better if she sat there longer, and Drew knew it. She stared through the windshield. Moss hung from the trees like torn drapery, swaying slightly in the still, humid air. The buzzing and chirping bugs created a relentless wall of sound, loud and grating. But worse—there were no bird calls. No wing beats. Nothing natural beyond the insects.
Night was falling, and Drew knew she was going to have to do this in the dark. She already imagined the creepy crawlies skittering across her skin—and she hadn’t even gotten out of the SUV yet.
She checked her sidearm and holstered it on her hip. Then she checked the second weapon, snug beneath her armpit in her underarm holster. Deep breath. She slid out of the truck and closed the door quietly behind her.
The air was thick. Heavy. Like she could chew it. Her skin immediately developed a clammy sheen. A floral scent wafted on the breeze—overripe and cloying. She tried not to squirm but found herself smacking a mosquito on her arm almost immediately.
“Goddamn swamp,” she muttered under her breath. “This is gonna suck.”
