Chapter 11 Gray
The house was empty when I got there. No sign of Harry or his wife, and the For Sale sign pissed me off. He had moved? Why? Had it been the fact that we took his memory stick, or was it merely a coincidence? But I didn’t believe in coincidences.
The fucker moved, and I needed to know where. I wasn’t a hacker like Ash was, and Ash was good, but I didn’t want to tell him where I was. I called the only other hacker I knew.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Onyx asked me as he answered the phone.
“Need a favor,” I told him as I watched the empty house. Was that movement?
“For my little brother, anything.”
His tone caught my attention, and I stared at my cell. “You okay?”
“Dandy.”
“Oh fuck, what have you done?” I asked cautiously.
“I blocked all her personal credit cards.”
“Whose?” But I knew whose. I knew because I wasn’t the only Santo with a woman in his life who drove them insane. “Angel’s? Tell me you didn’t.”
“I could, but . . . it would be a lie.” I heard his smirk.
“She’s going to kill you.”
“Pft.” I heard his humor. “She needs to prove it first.”
“Dude . . .” I had no words. They had a strained relationship. They were business rivals, and yet it seemed that they were both as intent as the other to destroy each other rather than compete in the boardroom.
“Now, what can I do for you?”
“I need to know about a house listing.”
“Why?” I heard him lose some of his humor. “You moving out of the frat house?”
“It’s not a frat house,” I reminded him for the hundredth time. “You were in the same house.”
“Pure frat house.”
“We’re not in a fraternity!”
“Whatever, which house?” I gave him the address, and I heard the silence. I waited. “Why? Is this because of her?”
“No.”
“Lie.”
“Fuck, Onyx, just fucking tell me where the fucker’s gone.”
And then I saw movement. Definitely movement in the house.
“Forget it.” I hung up and put my phone on silent and off vibrate as I shoved it in the glove compartment.
Checking my surroundings, I made my way to the house.
Hesitantly, I tried the back patio door handle.
It opened, and I made my way inside, pulling my bandana up over my face.
I listened.
Shuffling overhead made me move to the stairs. The study was on the ground floor, and I quickly looked in, seeing the hole in the wall where the safe used to be. It could be painters in here, making good the redecoration for selling.
Or it could be Harry the happy cameraman.
Slowly, I made my way up the stairs. I ducked at the last minute as the punch came swinging for me, almost losing my balance as I blocked the follow up, and then, with only defense on my mind, I punched the hitter back.
Confusion cleared, and I saw I had hit Harry.
Rage made me hit him again, and then I hit him one more time. With feeling.
As he lay on the floor in his hallway, I looked around, making sure he was alone.
“There’s nothing left to steal,” he told me as he raised his hands in supplication. His nose was broken by the looks of it, but it didn’t stop me from wanting to stomp on his face. “There’s nothing here of value to you.”
Well, he was wrong about that, because he was here, and he was very valuable to me.
“My wife is going to be home any moment,” he said as he tried to stem the blood from his nose. I knew my snort conveyed my disgust.
Did I look stupid? There was nothing in the house. What the hell was she coming home to? No, Harry was alone and was exactly where I needed him to be.
At my mercy.
Basements are always the last thing people pack. Because the likelihood is that the last time you packed, half that shit was still in your basement or your garage. Harry didn’t disappoint me. His basement looked like a packrat had moved in and had never moved out.
One hideous wooden chair and a handy length of rope later, and I had him tied to the chair.
My hood was low, and my bandana covered most of my face, but I still knew to disguise my voice. “What are you here for?” I asked him.
“This is my house,” he told me as he looked around.
It struck me as odd that he didn’t seem nervous, and I wondered who was really coming for him. Colleagues? Business partners? More men whose kids he tried to take?
“What do you do with the kids?” I asked him, and I saw his demeanor change. He wasn’t as confident now.
“I don’t know what you—”
My punch shut him up.
“I’ll ask you again, and I advise that you don’t lie. What . . . do you do . . . with the kids?”
“They’re adopted into good homes.”
My next punch made him lose a tooth. I rolled my head on my shoulders as I looked at him, flexing my fist, glad I had the foresight to put gloves on, but pissed his stupid teeth had nicked the latex.
“You like to make films, Harry?” It gave me great satisfaction to see him whiten so much that I was sure he was going to faint.
“You like to watch girls give birth and watch their kids get taken away without them even seeing which fucker you give them to?” I leaned on his knees as I stared into his eyes.
“You like to watch them bleed out and die on your table?”
He swallowed loudly. “That doesn’t happen often,” he whispered.
“Once is too often, because you have them in a room with no doctors, no medicine. You like to hear them scream?” I punched him again.
I hit him too hard. I heard a crack, and as I stood back, I took in his slumped form. With a curse, I felt for a pulse. Shit.
Had I just killed Harry?
A creak above me had me still, listening. Was this the company he was waiting for? Looking around the basement, I searched for an exit. Shit. My only way out was up the stairs, and with a small measure of relief, I heard Harry groan.
The footsteps moved closer, and I had no choice but to duck behind a pile of fuck knows what and hide. I needed to know how many there were before I either fought my way out or was busted.
A guy came down the stairs, and I recognized him from the third house we did. Squinting, I watched him as he looked at Harry and then looked around the room. The fact that he wasn’t rushing to his aid told me its own story.
“We seem to have company,” he yelled from his position on the stairs.
I waited — how many were coming? If I kept the element of surprise, I could maybe manage two.
Heavy footsteps sounded on the wooden stairs, and then another bulky guy was in the basement. Him, I didn’t recognize. But I wouldn’t forget him. The scar on the side of his face was memorable.
“What the fuck happened?” he asked as he strode over to Harry, who was, thankfully for me, alive, but definitely unconscious.
“Mugger?” the other one suggested.
“The house is empty, what was left to take?”
“You think they’re gone?”
Scar Guy looked around the basement. “Well, there’s nothing upstairs. They could be down here, or they could have split when they heard us arrive.”
Were they stupid or lazy? I mean, if they were both, I would thank the angels, but there was no way they weren’t checking the basement.
I almost laughed with relief when they did exactly what I thought they wouldn’t do and both turned and climbed the stairs.
My sense of good fortune lasted right up until I heard the bolt slide home.
Fuck, they locked me in.
No, they locked me and Harry in.
I looked at him.
This wasn’t good. Now I knew why Harry swung first. He was ready to defend himself.
Quickly, I searched the basement again, and then I saw the small window, hidden behind a pile of boxes that reeked of damp. It was too high and too small. I wouldn’t fit through there.
Shit.
I heard them moving around upstairs. They seemed almost methodical in their movements. What were they doing? It hit me at the same time as the smell of the smoke.
They set the house on fire.
Frantically, I ran up the stairs and tried the door. I didn’t care who was on the other side; I would fight my way out. It didn’t budge.
Turning and almost falling down the stairs in my haste, I made my way to the window.
The only thing to stand on was the fucking chair I tied Harry to.
Cursing myself at my adeptness at knots, I finally managed to untie him and pushed him out of the chair.
He landed with a thud and a groan, but he was alive, and that’s all that mattered.
The window didn’t open. The smoke was now making its way into the basement, and I knew I couldn’t be in here longer than I had to. I needed out.
Drawing my hand back, I punched the window and cried out in pain as it held, and I heard a crack in my hand.
I punched again and broke through the pane of glass, slicing my hand in the process.
Still, I had it open. Taking off my hoodie and wrapping it around my hand, I punched out the rest of the window, ignoring the pain, and then, gripping the frame, I pulled myself up.
It didn’t matter how hard I tried; I was never going to fit.
Hands grabbed me, and I fought them off, but my brother’s voice calmed me down.
“You won’t fit,” Onyx growled at me, and I dropped back into the basement. “Hurry, he’s in the basement!” he yelled to someone, and then I heard the door open and footsteps coming down the stairs. Jumping off the seat, I ran and stopped dead at the same time as Jett saw me.
My brother grabbed me and started to haul me upward.
“No!” I shouted as I wrenched free. “I need help.”
I ran back down the few stairs and picked up the still unconscious Harry off the floor.
“What the fuck?” Jett yelled at me as he hastily covered his face.
“I need him to talk,” I said as I started back up the stairs. The smoke was thick now, and I could feel the heat of the flames.
“I’m not fucking dying for Harry,” Jett growled as he helped me.
“We need him.”
The house was an inferno; my brother was insane to run into this house for me. Battling our way to the kitchen, where Onyx was pacing outside the door impatiently, I could hear the sirens, and I knew we had little time.
“We need to move,” I coughed as I struggled to stand upright. “We can’t be caught; our chance will be gone.”
“What the fuck were you thinking?” Jett grunted as he took Harry off me and put him over his shoulder.
“Let’s move,” Onyx ordered us tersely as more and more lights came on in the street.
“We need to split up,” Jett said as he watched the yard and the surroundings. “We’re fucked if we get caught.”
“My car . . . it’s a street over.”
“You go there, we’ll go this way—”
“I’ll make it to my own,” Onyx cut him off, grabbing Harry off Jett. “You know where to meet,” he instructed with a pointed look at Harry, who was coming around. I quickly punched him again to knock him out, and Onyx glared at me in frustration. “Jesus! Fuck, just run.”
I hesitated before Jett pushed me into movement, and he took off with Onyx following closely behind him. I turned and ran back to my car, keeping to the cover of the darkness, wincing as the sirens raced nearer.
Pulling my bandana off my face, I pulled my hood over my eyes, keeping my head low, hoping I looked like a guy out for a walk rather than a guy running from a crime scene.
Knowing I was nearing my car, I glanced up to make sure there was no one around. I was in the car when I saw her emerging from the shadows, hoodie pulled low, blending with the night like we’d taught her. She walked swiftly to the passenger side door and then slipped in beside me.
“Drive,” Quinn ordered. “Get us out of here, and then you can tell me why you’re trying to get yourself arrested . . . or killed.”
We kept our heads low as I drove away, both of us watching for anyone watching us. We were a few miles from the house when she reached over and took my hand, looking at the damage.
“You’re so reckless.”
Without a word, I laced her fingers with mine, and she didn’t pull away, and I didn’t care that it hurt my damaged hand.
We drove in silence as I headed to my brother’s office, preparing myself for the fireworks that were coming.
But I had Harry, which meant I was close to the answers that had eluded me for so long. If I couldn’t make him talk, I had no doubt that Onyx would.
Lifting her hand to my mouth, I brushed my lips across her knuckles and held them there for the rest of the journey. She brought me peace, even when she drove me wild and made me reckless. Peace came when she was near.
After all, she was my sanctuary.