Chapter 11
SABLE
The sun had just passed the middle of the sky when a dark sedan pulled up outside the front of the house. I half-expected it to turn around and drive away, but instead the engine switched off.
I ducked away from the window.
"What is it?" Leif asked, looking up from his laptop.
He sat at the rustic kitchen table, catching up with some work while I finished making sandwiches for lunch.
I had them all sliced into triangles and placed on a floral ceramic plate that didn't look like Forrest's style. Maybe it came with the house.
"There's a car outside." Keeping low, I pointed toward the window.
"Shit." He closed the laptop and rose to his feet, peering out carefully. Ready to duck down if anyone shot through the glass. "This can't be good."
"What is it? Who is it?" My stomach went from hungry, to wanting to lose its contents in a snap.
Leif took my arm and drew me deeper into the room. "I don't know." He checked his side, making sure his gun was still there. The fact he was carrying one around in this quaint little cottage was disturbing as fuck.
"Should we shoot first and ask questions later?" I asked.
By 'we,' I meant him, since he was the one with the gun. All I was armed with was a butter knife. I supposed I could throw it and hit someone in the head, that might distract them long enough for him to put a bullet in them.
"We should…" he started to say, when Forrest strode down the corridor, his shoes thudding on the hardwood.
He unlocked the door and opened it. "Took you long enough." He sounded gruff rather than reprimanding, as if he knew the people standing outside the door.
Leif and I exchange confused glances.
"We had other things to deal with in the city," a voice said from just outside the front door.
"No fucking way." Leif whispered.
"What is it?" I asked.
"That sounds like one of the men from the auction." Leif pulled out his gun. He looked ready to use it, shoulders firm, arm loose, like Woody taught me.
My blood froze. Why were they here? Why would Forrest talk to them like they were old friends? Both Leif and Savannah told me about the masked men, the ones she thought would have freed her, given half a chance. Were these the same men? Anything else made even less sense.
"He said he had someone on the inside," Leif said. "I guess he did."
I got the impression he didn't know the extent of the people Forrest was working with. I certainly didn't.
"Can we trust them?" I whispered. Could we trust Forrest if he was working with them?
Just because Savannah thought they'd let her go didn't mean they actually would have.
She was scared. It was easy to get the wrong impression when your mind was racing.
I didn't want to doubt Forrest, course not, but right now? I wasn't sure what to think.
"Stay here," Leif said. He pushed me behind him, but didn't step over the threshold. He cocked his head and listened.
"You might as well come inside," Forrest said.
Footsteps sounded before he closed and locked the door behind them.
"Who the fuck are they?" Woody said, his voice sounding from the other end of the house. As usual, he was pulling no punches.
"Good question," Leif whispered. "Who the fuck are they, Forrest?"
"These are my brothers," Forrest said. "Why don't we all go into the kitchen?"
"You have brothers?" Woody sounded surprised. "You never told me you had brothers."
Leif and I stepped away from the doorway in a hurry, right before everyone started to file in. Both of us doing our best to look like we weren't lurking, listening suspiciously.
I suspected neither of us pulled it off. Judging by the smirk on one of the brothers' faces, they hadn't missed a thing.
"This is Urban and Noah." Forrest gestured to them in turn.
Urban looked like a younger version of Forrest, if more cynical. Noah was a couple of years younger again, with a similar build to Urban, but a face covered in freckles and a wide smile.
"Who's this?" Noah asked, cocking his head at me.
"My girlfriend," Forrest snapped. "You might have met her friend at the auction, Savannah."
"The one you bought," Urban leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed, looking unimpressed.
"So we could get her out of there," Forrest said. "What about the rest of them?"
Noah straightened up, his expression more serious. "Most of them are accounted for. We're still trying to find a couple of them."
"Put your hand up if you're confused as fuck," Leif said, putting his gun away and raising his hand.
Slowly, I put mine halfway up as well.
"Confused as fuck sounds accurate," Woody agreed. "Who are these clowns? Who's being accounted for? Someone want to fill in the gaps here?"
"I see you have lunch ready. Perfect timing." Noah appraised the pile of sandwiches, his grin back in place.
"There should be enough for all of us," I said, giving Forrest the side-eye. Was he inviting them to stay for lunch, or were they inviting themselves? Not to mention, why hadn't he mentioned they were coming? He seemed to have been expecting them.
"Let's all sit," Forrest said, pulling a white painted chair out from the table. Like the others, it had a frilly blue and white chair pad covering the seat.
"How about you explain first?" Woody said.
"Come now," Noah said, patting Woody's shoulder. "Is that any way to be hospitable?"
"I don't give a shit about being hospitable," Woody said. "I want to know what you and Keith were up to."
"Urban," Urban corrected.
"Keith, Urban, whatever." Woody shrugged.
Urban glared daggers at him, which Woody gave back in equal measure.
"Aren't they adorable?" Noah asked, leaning over to me conspiratorially, "Who do you think will win the glare-off?"
I found myself liking him. "My money's on Woody," I said. "I've never known anyone who could glare as expertly as him."
"Interesting." Noah rubbed the stubble on his chin as if he had an extensive beard. "I've never met anyone who could out-glare Urban. Although, Forrest is pretty good too when he puts his mind to it."
I laughed softly and grabbed the plate of sandwiches to place it in the middle of the table.
"I suppose we could sit down," Noah said, grabbing up a ham and cheese sandwich and taking a bite. "Nice."
"It's just a sandwich." I shrugged and picked up one of my own.
"If you asked Urban, he'd tell you that's what women are good for; making sandwiches." Noah waggled his eyebrows, trying to get a rise out of his brother.
Urban flipped him off before yanking out a chair and flopping into it. "I'm not a fucking Neanderthal."
"No, you're closer to Homo Erectus," Noah said.
"Noah's an archaeologist," Forrest explained.
"It's almost like a family business. Forrest turns people into bones and I dig them up." Noah leaned back in his chair, sandwich in one hand.
"Where does Urban fit into all of that?" Leif asked.
"I try to make sure our big brother doesn't end up in prison," Urban said, giving Forrest a crackled frown.
"You do dirty work for this prick then?" Woody jerked his head toward Forrest.
"Yeah, you could say that," Noah agreed.
"They've been working behind the scenes, trying to figure out who's behind the auction and finding the women they sold. Have you made any further progress?" Forrest asked.
"Yeah, we have the name of the asshole who's been running these events." Urban said. "Do you know a man called Gregor Quinn?"
His hands on the table in front of him, Forrest hummed that he had. "His father started one of the biggest gas companies in the world. He's been steadily expanding the business for decades. He's also a big political donor. He pulls a lot of strings behind the scenes."
"He funded the senator's last run for office," Noah said. "Not to mention a bunch of others. He has very big pockets, and a lot of influential and powerful people tucked inside them." He patted his own pocket.
"Men like him are usually untouchable," Forrest said darkly.
"Usually, but it's time for this one to meet his maker," Woody said. His expression was deadpan compared to the melodramatic words.
"I know him." I kept my voice low, not wanting to say the words out loud.
"You know Gregor Quinn?" Forrest asked.
"He was a friend of Wolfgang’s." I nodded slowly.
"I've met him a few times. He's always been…
" I tried to think of the right words. "Slimy, slick.
He used to look at me like I was a piece of meat.
He tried to corner me once, but Wolfgang walked in.
I got the impression if he hadn't, he would have…
" I looked down at a knot on the table. "He came to Wolfgang's funeral.
He approached me and said, when I was ready, I should contact him. "
“Ready?" Woody echoed. "He made a pass at a widow at her husband's funeral? What sort of sick fuck does that?"
"An entitled one," Forrest said.
"That was what the asshole outside your apartment was referring to." Woody pointed an accusing finger in Forrest's direction. "He wanted Sable. He must have been pissed off when the senator took her."
"Word is, he was happy to learn the man was dead," Urban said.
"Not as happy as I was." Noah finished his sandwich and reached for another. "That guy was next on my shit list. Whoever killed him saved me the trouble. Was that you?" He pointed the sandwich at Woody."
"It might have been," Woody said evasively.
"If it was, nice work." Noah toasted him with the sandwich before biting into it.
"Your plan is to go after Gregor Quinn?" I asked.
"That's exactly what we're going to do," Forrest agreed. "Before anyone says it, we aren't using Sable as bait. Not this time."
I opened my mouth to argue, but found I didn't have the words. After what happened last time, I was reluctant to offer myself up on a silver platter again. Not unless it was necessary.
"I want to take part," I said finally. "He was responsible for taking Savannah. I owe him one."
"We all owe him several," Urban said.
"We could draw straws to decide who owes him the most," Leif said. "Or we could start making a plan. Forrest, how is that idea of yours coming along?"
"It's coming along nicely," Forrest said. He finally helped himself to a sandwich. "We're going to need your help." He turned his gaze to his brothers.
"Of course you are." Urban smirked. "You're not bringing down this prick without Noah and me."
"Exactly," Noah agreed. "In that order, too. Me. Then Urban."
Urban rolled his eyes at him.
"Okay, so," Noah said. "What are we doing?"
"This might be a really good time to leave the room," Woody said to no one in particular. "Before Forrest fucks our lives up with some harebrained scheme."
"You can sit this out if you want to," Forrest said without glancing at him.
"The hell I can," Woody tangled his fingers in his dark hair and shook his head. "Anyone working with the senator is an enemy of mine. I want to take part in the ass kicking. Besides, you know how this goes. If you don't include me, it'll be a shit show."
"Then stay and listen," Forrest suggested. "This plan is going to have to be flawless, carefully planned and executed."
"I love that word," Noah grinned. "Executed." He slashed a hand in front of his throat.
"It's accurate," Forrest said.
"It sure is, big bro," Noah offered him a fist bump.
Forrest regarded his hand for a moment before bumping his hand against his younger brother's.
If I had to guess, I'd think Urban and Noah were at least ten years younger than Forrest. They couldn't have been much older than his sons. That made them a handful of years older than me.
They were both attractive in their own way, but not like Forrest was.
He had the kind of face I wanted to look at for hours.
But these two? They'd help me make sure Savannah was safe.
After we dealt with Gregor Quinn, she could go back to living her life.
I could get on with mine. Finally put the past behind me, where it belonged.
Assuming we all lived long enough for that to happen.
"Okay, the first thing we need is…" Forrest started.