6. Riot
six
Riot
T he drive to Arsen’s father’s place takes us just under an hour. The entire time I’m in the back seat looking extra uncomfortable in the damn monkey suit Cash got us. I mean, I look damn good in it, but the suit is restrictive, and I like to be able to have full range of motion when I have to kill someone, and I know tonight that will be happening. Whether it’s our own flesh and blood or the men they send to try and stop us. Either way, I’m itching to wrap my hands around someone’s throat and squeeze until I watch the life drain out of them. That would make me feel exponentially better right now. Not as good as it would be to be balls deep in my wife, but it will take off the edge for a bit.
Cash pulls onto the back road that leads to an old barn at the back of the property. This is where we plan to leave the SUV while we chat with our fathers. Worst case scenario, if we need a quicker escape, Cash has his personal vehicle still parked in the garage. But there is no telling if his father fucked with it since he last had it, so we don’t want to risk it.
Once parked, we all climb out, checking the area to make sure we are alone before heading to the trunk. Cash made sure we had an array of weapons at our disposal. Popping the trunk, we all immediately grab our choices and slip them into holsters. I reach for the throwing knives first, slipping them in a wrist sheath on my right arm. Next I grab two 9mm, placing them into shoulder holsters under my suit jacket. Lastly, I tuck a few extra blades in a stomach sheath and slip on a belt garrote. Once we’re all suited, we move as one, slipping into the shadows and making our way through the small, wooded area that separates the two properties.
The trek to James Grant’s place only takes us about five minutes on foot, and once we reach the edge of the boundary line, we hold our position. We watch as men dressed in all-black tactical gear and all-black masks walk the property, all carrying semi-automatics.
“Looks like this won’t be as easy as we hoped for,” Cash whispers, his blue eyes trained on the various men we can see from our position. “But they left a blind spot.” He glances between Arsen and me before pointing to the corner of the house. The area rounds to the garden, which leads right to the kitchen and parlor room. “Right there. Every three minutes that spot is left unwatched. So, we need to move low and slow until we reach the hedges. Then when I give the signal, we move.” We both nod before ducking lower than our already crouched position and moving exactly as Cash does. The asshole has always been meticulous with his plans, but right now he is hyper-focused beyond any of our other jobs. By the time we reach the hedges he spoke of, we are crawling on our bellies. Good thing Cash planned for that as well. He got us all black suits, shirts, and ties. The tie even has shimmery black skulls imprinted on them. Very fitting, if I do say so myself.
“Okay. Keep your eyes open. We have no idea what awaits us around the corner, but keep it quiet.” Cash glares at me when he says this, and I almost feel affronted he even needed to point that out. Yes, I’m impulsive and sometimes a bit crazy—okay, a lot a bit crazy— but I’m not stupid. Instead of arguing his point, I simply concede. Now isn’t the time anyways. When he finally nods, accepting my quiet answer, he turns and faces the house again. Waiting. Watching. And then the signal. The signal is Cash suddenly moving, letting us know we need to move our asses as well.
“Masks,” Cash says suddenly before rounding the corner and slipping his on. I reach for mine tucked in my jacket pocket and slip it on over my face. I probably have the worst mask possible since my muzzle only covers the lower half of my face, so if anyone paid close enough attention, they would know it was me. But I did add some temporary black hair dye over my silver mohawk to make it not so obvious. When Arsen saw that, he used some to cover his red tips as well.
I almost feel like an evil James Bond.
I’m last to round the corner and am surprised that the garden area is pretty empty, allowing us to stroll right along like we’ve been here the entire time. Regardless of the suddenly easy path, we keep our heads on a swivel, keeping an eye out for any type of threat. Walking straight up to the kitchen door, Arsen taps three times, pauses, then taps two more times but slower. A second later the door swings open to Oliver, Arsen’s head chef. Oliver’s brown eyes shine with relief before he steps back and allows us to enter.
“Second door on the left,” is all he says before getting back to the stove. I watch as six other staff members dance around the kitchen, not once looking in our direction and just going about their work. I think a raise is in order for Oliver and his staff after this.
With nothing else left to say, we head in the direction he stated, a loose plan in place now and a whole lot of rage simmering just under our skin. I’ve already had a shit week, whatever happens next is ending badly for someone.
I wasn’t surprised when we walked into the ballroom, where the party was being held, and found it wasn’t exactly what someone would think of when this was a supposed sad day. These fuckers just found out their sons are dead, and they are throwing a full-on house of sin party. Everywhere I look in the dimly lit room, couples or groups are in an array of discord. Some are full-on going at it like rabbits in heat, while others simply enjoy the shows being given. The room is fully decorated in an elegant Halloween ambiance with deep reds and blacks. Candles brighten the room in soft red and yellow flame-lit lighting, placed against walls and on the tables sparsely placed across the floor.
Men dressed in suits or tuxes mingle around with women decked out in their finest, watching as scantily dressed women and men in animal masks provide shows and services as needed. No doubt, Arsen’s father’s idea. The sick fuck. I can’t even imagine Ali being among them, as she would probably cause problems being told what to do and what to wear again. But my eyes still wander across them all, hoping she is still somehow here. And safe.
All three of us stand there for a moment, taking it all in. This was supposed to be a party celebrating us and our success in completing the Hellfire Society traditional trials. We were supposed to be crowned the new leaders, the new kings of our empires. But I guess fate had other plans. Not that we really cared about stepping into our fathers’ shoes. We had already planned that their way was no longer working, and it was our time to make the changes needed to lead The Hellfire Society into a new era.
We’ve stood here so long it was probably getting suspicious, but just as Cash goes to take a step to the side of the room so we can do more surveillance, something in the distance catches my eye. Or sound I should say. I hear Henry Parker’s, my father, overly obnoxious laugh echoes around the room, followed by the other two dickwads. Then, as if by some sign, guests shift, and we get a direct line of sight to our sperm donors. I grind my jaws and tighten my fists into balls, allowing my nails to dig into my skin as I watch them throw their heads back in laughter, having a grand ole time. It takes everything in me not to storm over there and kill them where they sit. Consequences be damned.
“Stick to the plan. Don’t let them see they get to you. Their time is coming; just focus on the fact they might have information on our woman,” Arsen mumbles into my ear. The tension breaks as I flex my hands out. He’s right, but…
“I could always torture the information out of them. I always did enjoy playing with my food,” I grin, imagining all the ways I could inflict said torture. Oh, all the glorious ways. Hanging them upside down while I slowly leave small cuts across their skin, nothing serious, but it would allow them to bleed out over time. I could always skin them alive. I’ve always wanted to try that and keep them in one piece like some type of art exhibit. Or maybe I could…
My thoughts are abruptly shut off by Cash. “There will be time for that, but I need you to focus, Ri.” His blue eyes seem dead through the dark, pitted eye holes of his mask. Almost like an endless abyss.
“Fine. Torture later. What now?” I ask, my eyes shifting back to the supposed men of the hour.
“Now we give the hosts a thank you for the invite.” And then he’s moving. Walking with purpose across the floor, hands in his pockets like he has no care in the world. If this were any other time, I bet the fucker would be whistling a tone. Arsen and I take up his six, watching as guests scurry out of our way as if they already knew who we were. Or maybe they can sense a new predator in the room, one that is hunting its prey.
With everyone in some type of mask or face covering, I can’t spot our mothers, but if I didn’t know any better, they are preoccupied with side pieces. Plus, we doubt our mothers knew about their husbands’ plan.
As we move with purpose towards our fathers’ corner, something catches the attention of one of the men that’s with them, before they say something and point in our direction. Well, there goes our cover. All three of our father’s turn, eyes widening before plastering on a bored expression. My grin almost turns feral at that fact. For a second, true fear flashed in my father’s eyes, and I couldn’t help but get all giddy to have put it there again, and so very soon.
“Hello, Father. Miss me?” Cash draws out. His tone icy and dead.
“Boys.” is all James replies with before picking up his drink and taking a sip.
William Castro, Arsen’s father, speaks up next. “Gentlemen, have you met our associates? Richard and Ethan Black.” None of us says a thing as we take seats around a small platform stage. No doubt for entertainment. I take in the men currently around us, all of them dressed in suits and all wearing more classic masquerade masks.
I do find it funny how they all wear basic masks while ours are suited to our personalities. Plus, ours are freaky as fuck when we’re staring down at you, watching as your life fades. No basic bitches here.
The conversation is quiet for a minute, all of us taking in each other until dear ole Dad can’t take it anymore. “Is all this necessary? The theatrics? You couldn’t wait to make such a scene?” He snaps, but I think it’s more nervous chattering than anything. I mean, they were just having a great night. Their sons were dead; they could continue to rule the society, and they no doubt planned for this night to end with an orgy or something. Too bad, so sad, Daddy.
“Theatrics? Look around, Henry. You three are throwing a party for the death of your sons. Yet we are the ones making the scene? If anything, this party is for us, is it not? So why shouldn’t we be here?” Cash calls out casually but keeps his eyes trained on his father, who is doing the same.
“Now, now boys. This is tradition. No hard feelings.” William says, his eyes shifting to Arsen and then to James next to him. James finally looks away from Cash’s stare-off and glances at William before giving him a tiny nod. This catches our attention enough to have me slipping loose a knife from my wrist. He claps his hands together before standing. “Now I have a treat for all of us. Let’s all enjoy a good show before we talk any more business, yes?” Our fathers and their guest, the Blacks, smile wide, nodding before William steps away to a door behind him. Or a closet, if I remember right. “Come on out, sweetheart. I have some important guests who have been waiting for a good show tonight. Maybe if you behave, we’ll give you some extra treats.” My eyes narrow at his back before I watch him reach inside to grab whoever is in there, but a second later he yelps. “Stupid bitch. Don’t you know not to bite the hand that feeds you?”
“Let that be a lesson, asshole. Put anything else near me and I’ll bite your fucking dick off.”
Those words. That voice. I know it.
Then the last person I expected to see here steps out of the closet, this time in an outfit somehow even more nonexistent than the one she wore during the trials. Four-inch heels, a hot pink G-string, and a matching sheer bra that leaves nothing to the imagination. All her skin on full colorful tatted display. This time her bunny ear mask is hot pink to match the end of her hair. But I would recognize this woman from anywhere.
Ali.
My wife.
Our woman.