Chapter 26
26
Grant
“Go in there. And don’t make any sudden moves!”
Keeping my hands held high, I enter the mansion, stopping in the foyer.
“Where would you like me to go now?”
He shoves the barrel of the gun against my shoulder. “Don’t fucking treat this as a joke. You’re not leaving here alive tonight. Remember that.”
Oh, I’ll remember it alright. Now that I know Greer is safe and that Charles Blanc is on the way, my fears have lessened. Really, what in the fuck was Ryans thinking bringing me here of all places? I bite back a smile and walk to the gathering room.
Ryans follows and says, “Is it always so creepy in here?”
“Am I really supposed to answer that?”
“Yes.”
“It’s not creepy. It’s sacred.”
That should be warning enough for the fool, but it’s not.
Ryans gestures for me to sit on one of the benches.
“How was Henderson?” He smirks. “That lump on his forehead looked pretty bad.”
It was bad, and Brooks was still unconscious when Hendrix and I got to his house. Once we roused him, he told us who attacked him, and I knew Greer was in danger. I also know Brooks. He didn’t just sit by and watch me leave. No, he’s here, too, or close and once we have the upper hand Ryans is going to rue the day he thought he could take on the Defiant God Brotherhood.
“I asked you a fucking question!”
I answer, “He was still out of it. When I left, he was in the back of an ambulance, his wife at his side.”
He hums under his breath. “Good.”
“What was the plan tonight, Ryans? Were you trying to kill Brooks, or did you attack him just to lure me out of the house?”
“Bingo.”
“Which part?”
“Both. I was trying to kill him, but even though I failed, it still drew you from your house with all your guards.”
“And was I the target or my wife?”
This answer is very important. It’s going to determine how painfully this man is going to die. And he will die. There’s no question of that.
“Your wife.” He smiles, as if he didn’t just seal his fate. “As I told her, it was an unfortunate but necessary sacrifice. I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay in the presidential race with her gone.”
An icy calmness settles over me. I’ve worked hard my entire life to maintain the image the Brotherhood has created for me. Most people don’t even realize that I worked side by side with Alessandro and Brooks in the beginning, taking care of the Brotherhood’s problems. When the Brotherhood decided I was to become President of the United States, that also meant my hands had to be clean. So the killings stopped. Tonight, that changes. And it might be my most favorite killing ever.
“What happens now?”
“We wait for Charles to get here. Once he sees what I’m willing to do for the Defiant God Brotherhood, then I’m sure we can come to an arrangement where they let me become a member and we can forget this business of having me killed.”
“Done a lot of research on the Brotherhood, then?”
He nods. “As much as one can do on the internet.”
Which isn’t much. While there are those who know about us, we weave the narrative that can be found online. I mean, we have to give the conspiracy theorists something to grasp onto. So any information that Ryans thinks he knows is wrong. I almost feel bad for the man. Almost.
A soft tap on the wall behind me gets my attention.
“So he gets here, and you plead your case. What then?”
“What do you mean, what then? I kill you, obviously.”
“And then?”
“I become President.”
“What happens to my wife?”
“She knows too much. I’m sure Charles will agree that she and your unborn child will have to go.”
“What of Henderson and his wife? They, too, know too much.”
“A fair point. I guess I’ll have them removed, too.”
“Anyone else?”
Ryans shakes his head. “Not that I can think of.”
I stand and Ryans takes a step back.
“What are you doing? I didn’t say you could move!”
“This really is unfortunate. But thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being my last kill.”
The lights in the house go out and the panel in the wall behind me opens. I hold out my hand and a pair of night vision goggles are slapped onto my palm. Spinning to the left, I put on the goggles as a shot rings through the air. With the goggles on, I can see Walt is the one who fired his weapon. There are three others here. Brooks. Charles. And Jones?
Brooks gives me the signal and I nod.
Slowly, we approach Ryans on opposite sides. We’re stealthy as we move, so he doesn’t know we’re on him until it’s too late. Brooks strikes first, knocking the gun out of his hands. Ryans cries out as I kick him right in the dick.
“That’s for hurting my wife,” I say as he falls.
Brooks kicks him in the same spot. “That’s for scaring mine!”
Reaching down, we lift Ryans under his arms and drag him down winding hallways. Even if the lights were on, he’d have no idea where we were going. A design choice that Greer’s grandfather made years ago. Ryans fights as we drag him down a staircase, going to the underbelly of the mansion.
In the torture room, we chain him up by his arms and legs, so he’s in an X position and cannot move. Brooks kicks him one last time between his legs before the lights come on.
Ryans openly cries when he sees who stands before him.
Charles crosses his arms. “So you thought you were going to kill my cousin?”
“I wouldn’t have done it! I swear!”
“I saw the bruising on her face.” He punches Ryans in the face, making Ryans’ head jerk to the side. “That’s for hurting my cousin!”
Jim Jones says, “Easy. We don’t want to accidentally break his neck.”
The way he says it makes me think something similar happened with these two. I find I hold each man in a higher respect.
Jones meets my gaze. “What? You think you, Henderson, and Moretti were the first ones the Brotherhood used to do their dirty work?”
Brooks grins. “I knew I liked you.”
I turn my attention to Ryans.
“You were dead before you touched my wife. After hearing what you were going to do, I’ve decided that your death will be drawn out.”
Walt whimpers, “Please.”
“Oh, I know he’s not begging,” Brooks says. “We haven’t even played eyeball golf…”
“Fuck eyeball golf,” I say. “I’m thinking we go big or go home.”
Brooks’ eyes widen. “Welcome parade?”
“Welcome parade,” I agree.
Jones says, “I’ll give you credit, it’s different. Charles?”
Blanc nods. “Welcome parade.”
“What in the hell is a welcome parade?” Ryans asks, fear in his eyes.
I say, “It’s simple, really. We let you down. If you get to the door, you’re free.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.” I motion for Brooks. “Of course, that’s a big ‘if’.”
Brooks crosses the room, pulling out the weapons rack. Jones and Blanc each choose their weapon. Brooks lifts a bat, turning to me.
“Your turn.”
I give Ryans a smile before joining the others at the rack. There’s a variety of things to choose from. Bats. Barbed sticks. Axes. Spears. Guns, of course. Knives. Chains. Brass knuckles. Tools, like pliers, hammers, and saws. I reach for the knife I’ve used before.
“Hello, old friend.” Turning to Ryans, I say, “The chains will drop in a moment. Good luck.”
What he doesn’t know is that the lights are about to turn off again. And those chains? Well, they’re going to fall from the roof, but they’ll still be on his arms and legs, making it difficult to run. He’s not getting out of here alive. But, oh, is he going to suffer.
Charles asks, “Do you understand the rules?”
Ryans says, “Just let me go. Please!”
“I’m not going to ask again.”
“Yes, I understand. The door. I have to get to the door.”
“Good.”
Ryans’ pleas fill the air as the chains drop. There’s a moment where hope fills Ryans’ face…right before the lights go out.
Charles calls out, “Gentlemen, let justice be served for someone who sought to hurt the Defiant God Brotherhood.”
I put my goggles on in time to see Walt making a mad dash for the door. He doesn’t get far because Brooks steps on one of the chains, halting his progress. Jones and Blanc move in, attacking Ryans. They get in a few hits before he gets smart and uses the chains as a weapon. It won’t do him any good. He’ll tire soon and make things even worse for himself.
Brooks and I move in, giving Blanc and Jones a break. Ryans screams when my blade makes contact with his arm, slicing the skin. There’s one thing I love about this blade. It’s sharp and therefore cuts deeply. I strike again. It really is like a knife sliding through butter.
Ryans manages to get a hit in on me, but I have the upper hand when I remove one of his fingers.
“You bastard,” Ryans screams.
Brooks laughs. “You’re definitely not going to like this.”
He swings his bat, hitting Ryans behind the knee.
“Oopsie. I was aiming for your ankle. Better remedy that.” Brooks strikes again. “Damn. Did you hear that bone breaking? I doubt even Santos could fix that one.”
Even though it’s pitch black in the room, I know my friend is smiling like a fool.
“Please,” Ryans begs. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s too late for that,” I say.
All four of us move in on Ryans, giving him the punishment he deserves until the only sound in the room is our heavy breathing.
Jim crosses the room to turn on the lights and tosses his goggles to the side. “Shit. I’m going to feel that in the morning.”
We move away from Ryans’ body, removing our goggles.
Brooks glances over his shoulder. “Damn. Didn’t know any of you had it in you.”
Charles scoffs at that. “Respect your elders.”
But he’s smiling.
Turning to me, he asks, “How do I make things right between us?”
“Tonight was a start.”
I mean it, too.
He dips his head. “Thank you.”
“But that doesn’t mean things don’t need to change.”
“I agree,” he says. “Jones and I would like to have a meeting with you, Henderson, and Moretti. Brainstorm on how we can take the Brotherhood into a new era.”
I dip my head. “That sounds like a good plan.”
Charles says, “We’ll wait until you secure the presidency, of course. With Ryans out of the way, I have no doubt that you will win.”
“I have to ask. Why did you back him in the first place?”
Charles is silent, and I’m not sure he’s going to answer. Brooks and Jim both wait, as if they’re curious, too.
Finally, he says, “It’s a tough job leading the Brotherhood, but it was something I knew I would do one day. Of course, I thought it would be after my uncle stepped down. I never expected it to happen when I was forty-two.” He exhales. “I also never thought I’d see members I served with die off one by one for various reasons. DeLeon. Smith. Zhāng. It changed me.”
“You know we had nothing to do with their deaths, right? And we sure as hell had nothing to do with Zhāng’s attempt at a coup,” Brooks says.
Jim Jones flinches at the mention of his former lover, but quickly masks the look on his face.
Charles says, “I know that. But I also know that I’m outnumbered now. Hell, Rule 84 is proof of that.”
I say, “You have daughters, Blanc. You should be glad Rule 84 was changed.”
“I am!” He snaps. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I no longer have control over the Defiant God Brotherhood!”
Jones steps forward. “Maybe that’s not a bad thing.”
“What?”
“We both know that the Brotherhood won’t survive at this rate. Maybe the deaths of DeLeon, Smith, and Zhāng were a blessing.”
“A blessing,” Charles echoes. “How can you say that?”
“I can say that because I watched someone I care about destroy his own life trying to take you down. I say that because I don’t want to go down the same path. I say that because I’ve made mistakes, Charles. Big mistakes. And I’m fucking tired of living with regret.”
Brooks meets my gaze, and I know my friend is thinking the same thing. What has Jim Jones done?
Charles finally says, “You're right. Again, I’m sorry for supporting Ryans. I’ll let the Brotherhood know that he has been taken care of. I’ll also let them know that I didn’t do it alone. If anyone thinks I should be punished for not completing my task, then I will accept said punishment.”
“That sounds like a good start,” I say. “Now, I’d like to get home to my wife.”
Charles says, “She’s at my house. I didn’t want to leave her there alone.”
I nod. “Let’s go.”
Because I need to see for myself that my wife is okay.
We leave the mansion, knowing the clean-up crew is already on their way. In the morning, Ryans’ death will be announced and that will be that.
Charles is silent as we drive. I imagine he has a lot on his mind, but I hope he’s truly wanting to move forward with changing the Brotherhood for the better.
At Charles’ house, we go inside to find our wives sitting on the couch. The bruise on Greer’s cheek has me moving.
“Baby, are you okay?”
“Grant!” Her beautiful green eyes fill with tears. “You’re safe!”
“I’m safe. And Ryans won’t ever hurt you again.”
She meets my gaze. “I hope it was slow and painful.”
“It was.”
“Good.”
I lean in, brushing my lips against hers. “We should get home.”
“Oh?”
“Tomorrow the world is going to know Ryans took his own life. We’ll issue a statement, offering our condolences. After that, we finish the race to the White House.”
She takes my hand. “To the White House.”
Fuck. How did I get so lucky?