41. Chapter 41
AHREN
The pistol shook in Connor's hand as she stepped through the doorway. The three of us agreed to stick together until this was over and while I had suggested she stay in the truck so she wouldn't have to face this house again—I understood her need to stay close.
Having worked out the plan at home, we moved through the house silently. The bitch was gone; none of us expected to stumble upon her, feet propped up, mimosa in hand, waiting for us.
Then again, absolutely none of this had gone the way any of us expected. Nothing was off the table.
One by one, we cleared the second-floor rooms. A thick layer of dust blanketed the interior. The recent footprints, both hers and ours, left a clear path through the house.
Entering the upstairs bedroom that overlooked the driveway, we could see a mess of overlapping footprints .
"Fucking hell." I growled. "I knew. I fucking knew."
"Knew what?" Tierney asked, stepping into the room.
"When we were pulling out of the driveway, I caught a flash of something in the window. Connor wasn't looking good, and I wanted to get her home." I exhaled sharply. "I convinced myself it was just a bird. But it wasn't, was it?"
"You rescued me from that psycho bitch. How about you get a pass on not thinking she was crazy enough to stick around with two trained killers coming to rescue me?" Connor retorted, her former sarcastic wit nearly back to full power.
"Another clue?" Tierney said, picking up a black light bulb from the windowsill.
"More riddles. Fan-fucking-tastic." I sighed, dropping my hands to my sides.
The sparse furnishings appeared to be from early last century, the lightbulb was the only thing in the room that was even close to modern.
Tierney sighed. "Back downstairs then."
I glanced at Connor, finding her mask firmly in place. If it weren't for her breaths that were a hair heavier than was natural for her, I would think she was unbothered, verging on bored.
My eyes swung to Tierney again and nodded, stepping past them, leading them down to the main floor.
She had argued with me back at the house, saying she was just as capable as I was, but that hadn't been the point.
If there was a gun or a trap, it was going to get me first, giving them time to get away or, in Tierney's case, shoot back.
Despite my expectations, the main floor was as empty as the upper floor, though the dust there had been disturbed in nearly every room.
Stepping into the kitchen, my eyes landed on a time-worn wooden table. The thick wood had seen better days, but still appeared sturdy .
Connor followed me in, almost immediately dropping to her knees and emptying her stomach.
I kneeled next to her, gathering her hair and twisting it around my hand. My other hand rested uselessly on her back.
"This is where she hurt you, isn't it?" I asked quietly. Of course, I already knew the answer.
Her entire being trembled. She nodded her head rapidly, but didn't dare speak. After a few tense minutes, she leaned back, grabbed the neckline of her tee shirt, and wiped her mouth. She drew in a shaky breath, then pushed it out slowly, working to calm herself.
Tierney and I exchanged glances over her head, the silent vow clear. This won't go unpunished.
Connor's hand squeezed mine. "I'm fine." She croaked, pushing herself to her feet and turning away from the reminder of her captivity.
"I've been thinking." Tierney started. "One of the clues that helped narrow down the neighborhoods was a lightbulb."
She held up the black bulb.
"You're probably right." I groaned, plucking the bulb from her fingers.
I pulled open the door that led to the basement.
"Sit." I commanded Connor, pointing to the wall next to the door. To my surprise, she obeyed without hesitation.
My eyes flicked between the two women, weapons raised, seemingly ready for whatever happened next.
Tierney's gaze swung to mine, offering a curt nod—all business, my girl.
I flicked on my flashlight, tapping each stair as I descended, not wanting to be caught off guard. Sweeping the area, I found it completely deserted. Just as it had been last time .
Holding the flashlight between my teeth, I tucked my gun into the waistband of my jeans and gently unscrewed the bulb that hung from a beam near the center of the room.
The moment the black bulb was in, the room came to life.
Quickly scrawled words, letters that seemed to jump from nearly the size of my arm to smaller than my finger, smashed together, sometimes in the same word. Entire sections that had been scribbled over, as if she wanted to erase those thoughts.
A lot of ranting. She loved the words “man whore" and "asshole”. While those parts didn't seem relevant, I took pictures of every section of text hoping to find hidden meaning in her rage fueled manifesto.
Two things that did capture my attention were a date around five years ago and "7.62x54mmR".
"Damn." Tierney murmured, taking in the rage filled text, her eyes finally settling on the final message.
"This is personal, Ahren. She is calling out you and your rifle. Does that date mean anything to you?"
I gave my head a hard shake. "Do you remember any of them?"
She shrugged, turning back to the wall. "No. I guess not. Did you shoot and miss?"
I scoffed. "Not hardly."
"No judgment. Just a question." She said, raising her hands in surrender.
"Let's go." I gritted out, reaching up to swap the bulbs. "Nothing more to learn from this room. But this might still come in handy."
Tierney climbed the stairs quickly, as eager to escape the wretched basement as I was.
Connor's eyes cut across the empty room. Her fingertips danced against her thigh as she rose to her feet.
"So, what did you find?" she asked, her feet shuffling nervously. It was understandable why she would be so nervous being back in this house, but it still unnerved me to see the always so well put together doc frazzled.
I pushed my phone into her hands, flicking open the gallery so she could read through the images on her own. Maybe the distraction will help her feel more in control.
"Come on." I murmured, placing my hand on her back and guiding her toward the front door.
Stepping outside, I allowed myself the first truly deep breath since crossing the threshold nearly an hour ago. The three of us seemed to be on the same page, walking briskly to the truck, as if the house itself would judge us for running away.
None of us bothered speaking until we were well on our way home. "I do keep files. The date—well, it should be easy enough to figure out who the target was."
"I should probably do something like that. Just didn't want a paper trail." She said thoughtfully.
“The night I met Connor. I took a job. Rushed in.
Didn't research. Every fucking mistake a young cocky asshole could make, I made. It nearly cost me my life.” I chuckled, remembering the brash idiot I had been.
“I realized that if that night came back to bite me in the ass, I would need to know the details so I could respond accordingly.”
She snorted, her head shaking softly. "I can't even imagine you fucking up. Those twenty-six roses are all moments of pure luck. I still owe you one, by the way."
I laughed. "Is that so?"
"You know it. Shot some bald guy in the heart of Black Hills. I got the text confirming payment, immediately followed by the job in the grove. You know—you snooped through my messages." She said, sticking her tongue out playfully.
"Well then, it sounds like you owe me a rose, Kitten. I'll expect it on my doorstep the moment all this is over."
She turned away, facing the window, but not before I saw the pink staining her cheeks.