CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
TY
F ive hours. That’s how long I slept last night—or this morning—with Rena’s divine, naked body curled around mine. I hadn’t slept that peacefully or for that long in months. And I’d never felt as comforted or complete as I did with her in my arms.
She’s a balm to the brokenness I’ve become so accustomed to.
For something that has always felt so taboo, it’s perplexing how unbelievably right it feels. I’m sure I’ll have some more reconciling to do regarding that. My hang-ups and past traumas aren’t going anywhere. I wouldn’t want them to either. Forgetting would be dishonoring what Ella, Audrey, and my mom endured. My tortured soul is a lazy penance, but it’s all I have.
Still, I can’t allow that to touch Rena. She deserves the world, every halo and cloud and star in the heavens. Not the depths of Hell. I’m not sure how to keep her separated from it though. She wants all of me, and I long to give her every desire and gift and dream she’s ever yearned for, but she doesn’t know what all of me means entirely. Not regarding my past or our future. And certainly not concerning the demons she’s so eager to dance with.
She may have approved of my immoral tactics to eradicate villains more grotesque than me, but that’s the shallow end of the wicked waves she’ll be immersed in. Nowhere near the depths.
I told her that everything I am is hers, but I intended that to express what she means to me because I haven’t been very good at that. I’ve hurt her. But despite her nonchalant acceptance of the darkest truths, I’m still not convinced that thrusting her into the life she’s about to encounter won’t be among my very worst sins.
I’ll figure it out, I guess. One fire at a time.
Until then, I don’t foresee being able to relinquish my grip on her. She’ll be leashed to me for her own protection. And also because it’s the only way I can fathom for me to hang on to that last thread of my sanity.
Tonight is the exception. Although I have provisions to remedy that.
About a half hour ago, I woke Rena up by eating her sumptuously sweet pussy until she shook and screamed. I would have gladly sunk into her again, but she’s pretty sore. I had been as gentle as I could bear to be with her last night, holding back so I didn’t hurt her. But even so, toward the end, I lost a smidgen of control.
And her throat … well, it’s nothing she can’t take. Honestly, after the scare she gave me and the peril she got herself into, I was gentler than she deserved. The punishment did serve as a useful guise to unlock some of her kinks—pain, degradation, bondage, impact play. And when I shot my cum on her chest after our hot-tub soiree, she lit up like a Christmas tree. My girl likes it dirty.
Maybe I should have left her unsated and begging a bit longer. But I was too desperate for her. To finally sink inside her and watch her fall apart because of me.
One glimpse of her angelic face—her plump lips around my cock, guileless eyes seeking direction, sassy tongue spouting confidence she didn’t harbor—and any irritation I held dissipated. If she catches on to that, I’ll be in trouble. I probably am either way.
Now, she’s soaking in the tub. After I feasted on her, I made her breakfast and drew her a bath.
While I busy myself, cleaning up the kitchen—a grand space with two long islands, much like we have back home; waterfall marble countertops; rich wood cabinetry and beams; stone accents; and stainless steel appliances—Gage knocks on the door. It’s been closer to ten hours than seven since our call, but that’s my fault. I sent him on some errands to pick up a few items for me.
When I answer the door, a breath of relief blasts out of me. It’s hard to put into words what the guys mean to me. But knowing he’s here to help me obliterate those bastards is sweet comfort.
He smacks my back and drags me in for a hug. Once he pulls away, he scans my face. “You good? Did the little Noire princess set you straight, man?”
A smile coasts up my cheeks as I ruminate on how her variety of crazy has indeed calmed my untethered thoughts. “I’m getting there.”
It’s true. I do feel more balanced than I’ve been. No flashbacks since the club and no nightmares last night. Plus, I’m rested. And not using alcohol as a meal replacement.
He nods, and there’s a loaded hesitation that follows. “It’s gonna be a rocky road, Tytan, but I’ve got you. We all do.”
That’s as tender as Gage gets, and it damn near makes me crumble from how warm and fuzzy my chest becomes. I’ve always been the levelheaded voice of reason in our group, with the few exceptions of when I’ve plunged into the depths of madness. Extremes. I live in the extremes.
But while Wells is fatherly and Liam is a pesky little brother, Gage is like the burly older brother, who effortlessly cares and corrupts.
He worries far more than he lets on. It’s why his bark is so aggressive, which I understand. We’re as opposite as can be in our approaches, but the anger and anxiety that link to become a chain coiling around us is something we both recognize.
Me burrowing into the dark corners of my mind frightens him because it rarely coexists with that levelheaded side of me. And Gage frets that he and the guys won’t be able to pull me back out, even if he doesn’t outright admit to it. That’s why he’s always so eager for me to marry the two sides of myself—feeding my inner beast while still being pragmatic and rational. He’s adamant that it will merely take me training myself to welcome them.
Not my strong suit.
The rocky road he’s referring to is, of course, whatever hell KORT will bestow upon my girl once I claim her—which wrenches my insides and boils my blood—but we’ve got a little while for that. I’ll need to face her brothers first. And neither unfortunate quandary is necessary to confront today.
One fire at a time.
“You’ve always got my back, Big Guy,” I respond, leading him through the house to the great room. “That’s why I called you.”
He kicks off his shoes and saunters behind me. “Damn straight. Looking forward to it. I didn’t report out. Did you?”
“No,” I answer, referring to the fact that I haven’t informed Wells about our impending ambush. I should. Maybe he and Liam would even join us, but he might order me to stand down because I’m supposed to be lying low. And I can’t bear for those rapists to exist for even one more day. Waiting equates to innocents suffering.
Crunch. Squeak. Blood. One day of waiting.
“Good,” he commends as he drops his black duffel bag on the floor with a thump. “Ask for forgiveness, not permission.”
See? Different as night and day. But that’s exactly the reinforcement I need right now. Defying orders is a rarity for me. Liam? Gage? Not so much. Although they’d claim they skirt them, not disregard them. Semantics.
“Were you able to get everything?” I ask .
“All in here.” He toes the end of his duffel and then decides to just squat down and unpack it.
We get to work, setting things up and discussing strategy for the evening. We’ll need to leave at sundown to case the residence for a few hours before we strike. But it’s not a hard job.
From what I’ve found, we’re up against nothing more than an insignificant street gang. They deal primarily in credit card fraud, prostitution, and ecstasy. All easy markets in Vegas. Once upon a time, those were the domains of the Mafia, but ever since they’ve legitimized—in the sense of funneling money through valid businesses—street gangs have moved in. I’m guessing that’s what Liam uncovered as well since I haven’t heard back.
We’re anticipating two dozen or less fighting-age males. Maybe a few innocents because I’d be shocked if they didn’t have at least a woman or two there—a couple of their off-duty prostitutes. The house is in a rural area. Secluded, which opens the door of possibilities for us. There are also two outbuildings on the property, which spans about three acres. While the home has a large, detached garage, satellite images show that the front yard is used as a makeshift parking lot.
Rena moseys out to the kitchen to join us after about an hour, when we’re just finishing up. Her hair is wet and swept up into a knot on top of her head. Her face is bare of the makeup and glitter she usually flaunts. She’s in a cropped T-shirt and tiny shorts, and I can’t help but stare. Because I can. For the first time, I can.
She’s so fucking sexy.
And mine.
Gage belts out his booming laughter and backhands my chest. “Christ, brother. Fucking pussy-whipped.”
With that, he makes his way over to my girl, wraps her up in his arms, and kisses her hair. That’s what’s so unique about Rena being brought into our circle. With Ivy and Celeste, we all watched as each of us connected with them in our own special ways. It was a slow process of realizing how they were meant to be the glue between all of us.
Ivy did it first, of course, transforming our close-knit crew into a family with that fierce and loyal compassion that is so on brand for her. But Celeste was magical in her own right because the odds were stacked against her. We felt complete and weren’t expecting to bond with her the way we did. She’s a fighter though, and like she tends to do, she won us over.
But Rena, she’s always been there. In the background to start, but gradually, she became a more permanent fixture. Hanging at the house. Bantering with the family. Rocking Felicity. Part of our moments. She already fits. She always has.
Gage sets her down and not so quietly tells her, “You’re exactly the kind of mischief he needed. Nice work, angel.”
“Do not encourage her,” I protest, sipping the last of a Kraken and Coke. “She causes mayhem without any prodding.”
Rena laughs. It’s bright and whimsical. Free. “Don’t worry, sailor.” She bites her lip and flings an exaggerated wink in my direction. “You keep railing me like last night, and I’ll take it easy on you.”
I drag a hand down my face, hissing, “Jesus, Rena,” as Gage roars and pecks her temple.
“I fucking love this girl.” He struts past me on his way to retrieve his bottle of bourbon. “Please swear to me I get to be here when you tell Axel and Ryker about all the railing you’re doing to their baby sis.”
My head lolls back as though I’d been struck. “Fuck, man. Am I going to regret inviting you here?”
He pours himself a drink and cocks an eyebrow, which wrinkles his shiny, bald head. “Not when we’re blowing two dozen rapists to bits.”
“True,” I concede as I snag Rena by the hem of her T-shirt and haul her toward me.
She smooths her palms over my chest and casts an eager expression on me. “Can I come? ”
“No,” Gage and I bark in unison.
At least, we’re on the same page there.
“Fine.” She rolls her eyes. “I could be an asset, but whatever. As far as telling my brothers, I came up with a plan.”
I lift her onto the prepping island countertop and station myself between her long, toned legs. “I’m listening.”
“I’d like us to have a couple of days to just be, but then I’ll call Axel and ask for only him and Jax to come out here. He’ll go for that because Jax is my best friend, and of course, Axel is all fatherly. Even if Jax extends concerns in private, he’ll take my side in front of Axel. And Axel hates fighting both of us.” She inhales and exhales quickly because she spewed all that within in a single breath. “The key is to keep Ryker out of it until we have Axel convinced. He riles everyone up. And he’s absurdly protective, like in an angry, beastly warrior kind of way. He might shoot first and ask questions later.”
“I believe that.” I sigh as my fingers cruise up her thighs. “He’s no doubt considered shooting me because of how I handled Mercy.”
“Not really.” She shakes her head and glances between Gage and me. “Don’t tell him I told you this, but he respects you because you never backed down to him. You put her first. Elevating a woman’s needs for no other reason than her protection is a rarity in our world. So, even though it’s killing him to be left out of her life right now, he feels like he owes you.”
That shocks the hell out of me. “I didn’t—”
“We can use that,” she tacks on before I finish my thought.
“She’s cunning. I like it,” Gage bellows from the opposite side of the island. “You two take some time. I’m going to claim a room and rest before we head out.”
“Thanks, Big Guy,” I say and turn back to Rena while he treks to his room. “How are you feeling?”
“Good.” Her cheek bounces in a crooked smile. “Sore, but I don’t mind.”
I nibble on her bottom lip and relish her chest rising against me with her hitched breath. “Did the bath help? ”
“Yeah,” she whispers against my lips with a teasing sweep of her tongue. “I think I’m ready for round two.”
“Not yet,” I groan. “We need to talk about things, and I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to hold back as much on round two.”
She hooks her arms behind my neck. “That’s the kind of sweet nothing I can get behind. Ruin me, sailor.”
“No worries there. Tonight, when I get back.” I chuckle and brush my thumb across her cheekbone. “You’re so beautiful, baby girl. It hurts to look away.”
“So don’t.” Her voice is casual with that, but there’s apprehension swimming in her glossy eyes. Insecurity I put there.
“Never,” I promise. “You’re stuck with me now. I like the plan with your brothers. We’ll tell them slowly, ease them into it. I don’t want to wait too long because they’re so upset, but I’ll talk to Wells tomorrow, and maybe he can assure them of your safety and buy us some time.”
She relaxes a little, gliding her fingertips across my scruff while her hazels dance around my face. “Perfect. We need that time. A few days at least, without running or drama.”
“Agreed.” I straighten and study her. “But I also need to know what you were running from. It’s not just finding out about the tracking.”
Her chest deflates, and she diverts her gaze from me, hesitant or hiding something. “How about a secret for a secret? What’s the big thing that you all fell into?”
I crowd myself around her again and wait for her to grant me her attention. “I plan to tell you everything, but I already gave up our erased identities—a secret that could get my family and me killed. So, the scale is tipped in your favor. Why don’t you share why you’re running away from a family you love?”
She hangs her head, defeat mantling her frame. “It’s not because I don’t trust you. It’s because it will make it real, and I can’t …”
“Look at me.” I lift her chin so she has no choice but to comply. “ Whatever it is, we’ll face it together. This won’t work between us if we’re hiding things from one another.”
That’s the shit that will get us killed.
“I was wrong to tell you that I couldn’t be your compass before,” I add. “No more being lost, Little Moon. I’ll be your true north, and you’ll be mine. One direction, okay?”
“Okay.” She nods in my embrace. “I’m pretty sure I’m not a Noire.” And the dam fucking breaks. Her chin wobbles, tears stream. “My mom had an affair or something, and I … I don’t know who I am if I’m not … and Axel has been lying to me. Everyone has, so I don’t know who I can trust.”
It makes sense that she’d be devastated by that. It’s more than the name, the affair, or even the realization that her father is someone she doesn’t know. Rena’s entire identity is encapsulated in being the Noire princess. No wonder she feels lost.
“I’m sure that’s a lot to process.” Yanking up my shirt, I use it to dry her cheeks before folding her into me until she melts against my chest. “But who you are doesn’t change because of that. Axel lying about it is proof. He obviously didn’t want these thoughts in your head. You will always be theirs and an important part of the Noire empire, no matter the lineage.”
She tips her face to me, and it’s clear that she wants that truth to penetrate, but something is keeping it at bay.
“Is that it?” I probe because that’s not it, and as much as her anguish is shattering me, I can’t get distracted. I need to know whether she can handle being transparent with me, even concerning her family.
“Isn’t that enough?” she returns.
Disregarding her sass, I keep poking. “Do you know who your mother had an affair with?”
She rears back, brow line furrowed as she grimaces. “Do you?”
“Yes,” I reply because I will be as forthright as I can with her.
“Fuck,” she gasps. “You’ve known the whole time you were here with me, and you didn’t say anything? ”
“Don’t do that, Rena,” I warn. “You’ve held that information close to the vest too. We were a little busy figuring out what this was between us. But we’re talking about it now.”
She buries her face in her hands. “I don’t like to …” She grunts, pounding her fists into her legs. “I don’t know how to tackle this. I either attack things slowly—and by that, I mean pretend they aren’t true—or without thinking at all. Two speeds. That’s all I’ve got.”
“Okay. That’s helpful to know.” And terrifying, but I keep that to myself. “So, let’s do this: I’ll fill you in about your birth father tomorrow. Get you the answers you’re obviously out here to find. I don’t want to do it now and then leave you alone.”
She stares at me for a beat, her expression blank, until empathy seems to wash over her. “I won’t take off again.”
An indignant laugh pours out of me, miffed at the mere thought. “No. You sure won’t.”
“What’s that mean?” She peers around the kitchen, as though she has some sixth sense alerting her to precisely what I mean. “What were you two doing when I came out here?”
“Installing cameras,” I answer honestly.
“You’re going to watch me while you’re gone?” She strokes her forehead in disbelief, and we haven’t even gotten to the good stuff. “That’s trust for you.”
“Trust, like respect, is earned,” I volley, using similar words to what she texted me when she refused to disclose her location. “You fractured mine when you chose to play me and leave instead of discussing how you were feeling with me.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.” She jabs her nail into my chest. “I made my feelings abundantly clear. But you were set on taking the high road and getting the hell away from me. I don’t know why you changed your mind, but I know it happened because I was strong enough to leave when you weren’t offering what I needed.”
She’s not wrong, but I don’t volunteer that. Better to remain silent and see where she guides the conversation.
She tilts her head with a goading smirk, a few pink-and-blonde strands skimming her shoulder. “Won’t keeping an eye on me be a little distracting while you’re blowing up a houseful of assholes? I mean, how will you manage to look away, knowing I could disappear in a blink?”
Ahh. Now, we get to the good stuff.
“Valid point. I thought of that too, baby.” I step away and reach to the back of the counter, presenting her with the pretty bracelet I got for her. Okay, so it’s not particularly pretty. But it is black. And my girl likes black.
Her eyes bulge out of her head. “What the hell is that, Ty?”
No sense in tiptoeing around this since I’ll be clasping it on her shortly. “It’s like a house arrest ankle bracelet. If you leave the premises, it alerts me and makes an obnoxious, high-pitched beeping sound to annoy the hell out of you.”
She balks. “You’ve got to be freaking kidding me.”
“Nope.” I lean in close, caging her where she’s stiffly perched between my legs, and speak low into her ear, wetting the lobe. “You wanted me, Little Moon. You’ve got me. But I’m a little crazy, and the thought of you leaving here and something happening to you is enough to drive me clear over the edge. This is the solution for tonight. And after, I doubt you’ll ever be out of my sight.” I pause, allowing my breath to cascade over her neck, pebbling her skin. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“From one prison to another,” she mutters in her sultry warble.
“Yes.” I nibble her ear and inch my fingers into the leg hole of her shorts. There’s only a flimsy strip of fabric masquerading as panties to contend with, so I push it aside, cavorting over her clit in the rhythm I’ve discovered undoes her. “But I promise my prison will be a thrilling captivity.”
She blows out a ragged breath. “At least you’re telling me. That’s something.”
“Good girl. That’s the spirit.” I lick the seam of her lips, coaxing her into a kiss. “Find those silver linings. ”
And because she’s fucking made for me, she relents, spreading her legs and pressing her mouth to mine until I rip off her shorts and panties and plant her feet on the countertop. I’ll never get enough of her exquisite pussy—pink with finely trimmed blonde hair. A bit swollen and throbbing with eagerness. Dripping.
Remembering my finished cocktail, I slide the glass over. “Your delicious cunt is weeping for me, but still sore. My tongue can remedy that.”
Her eyes widen with clear intrigue. My filthy little vixen.
Chucking some of the leftover ice into my mouth, I lower my face to between her thighs and feast on my girl, swirling the cubes around her sensitive area and pushing one inside her as she shudders and purrs.
When those are melted in her heat, I collect the rest and resume my chilled massage as her hands grip the edge of the island.
“Oh, Jesus, Ty.” She lies back, a shiver racking through her entire body. Her hips seem to be entertaining opposing desires, escaping the cold or thrusting for more.
“Shh,” I coo, my lips feathering over her as my forearm pins her in place. “Let me make you feel better.”
When the last of the cubes have dissolved, I slink my hands beneath her to cup her round ass, squeezing and reveling in her wiggling for added friction. Sweeping my tongue over her—ass to entrance to clit—I savor her taste and smell, inhaling the goddamn elixir of her juices.
Spellbinding.
And mine.
So, I remind her. “This is what it means to be mine.”
She moans, uninhibited and free, splayed out on the kitchen counter in the midst of her confinement. “Compelling argument.” She pants her ramblings. “A good freaking silver lining.”
“Or gold,” I volley between savoring laps. “You taste like fucking butterscotch. So goddamn sweet. Come on my tongue, baby girl.”
Gage and I are suited up and ready to walk out the door while Rena pouts on the couch. She let her irritation subside during her kitchen-counter orgasm, the rest of our afternoon, and all through dinner. But once I fastened that bracelet around her ankle, her rage bubbled to the surface.
“This is a violation. And I know I’m not supposed to mention my brothers because I’ve”—she throws air quotes around the remainder of her sentence—“ ‘made my choice.’ But Ryker would definitely shoot you for this.”
“Doubt it,” Gage snipes, and her jaw locks while he stares her down. “He’d probably be pissed they hadn’t thought of it.”
She grunts, so I pitch her a bag of her butterscotch candy on my way to stash another box of ammo in my duffel. They seem to offer her serenity.
“Good idea,” she says, all snarky. “I need a whole bag right now.” She tosses one in her palm like she’s flipping a coin. “It was my therapist’s suggestion that I keep these on me all the time. Axel made me see her on account of my impulsiveness . I like candy so much that she told me to pick a flavor I enjoyed and to pop it in my mouth anytime I felt like I might do something crazy.”
That pauses me in my tracks. “You smell like butterscotch all the time.”
“That’s right, sailor.” She smiles, and it isn’t a bit angelic. It’s a smile that would send the Devil scurrying into hiding. “You made your fucking choice.”
That sends Gage into an all-out guffaw, clapping his hands and dissolving into tears. “Fuck. She’s gonna be fun.”
Ignoring him, I plop down beside her, thread our fingers together—noting how stunning the colors, her pale to my brown, weave with one another in a striking mosaic—and try another route to appeasing her. The truth. “Rena, you know that nightmare I had?”
“Yeah,” she whispers, instantly softer .
“I’ll tell you more about it later, but you said you wanted to be with me, and I can’t do this any other way. I can’t breathe any other way.”
For a full minute, she says nothing, but then her thumb drifts back and forth over my skin. “I’ll be good. It’s fine. But next time, ask first.”
That’s a crock of shit. She wouldn’t have been any less pissed, and I won’t be taking any chances.
But I don’t say any of that, opting for ambiguity. “No promises there, but I’ll consider it.”
She snarls, so I jump up and grab the acoustic guitar I had Gage buy for her.
“Thought you could play around with this while we were out.” I hand it to her, and when her eyes light up, I press my lips to hers for a kiss that is full of both gratitude and passion as she purrs into my mouth. I have something else to add though. “It’s Janis Joplin’s 1969 Gibson Hummingbird.”
“Holy shit,” she gasps, patently choked up as she rolls her swollen lips in and examines the relic from one of her idols. “Thank you. I love it.”
The sight of her excited makes my chest tighten. I want to spend every day spoiling her. “I’m glad, baby girl. I did some research, and that was at a shop downtown, so Gage picked it up for me.”
“It’s perfect. My mom would have …” She beams, eyes glistening as she glances at Gage, who’s waiting on the opposite couch. “Thanks, Big Guy. At least I’ll be a prisoner with music.”
He dips his chin and winks at her. “It’s a step up from a harmonica.”
“That it is,” she grants.
Since she’s content, I move to slip my boots on. “You said you have a gun?”
“I’ve got a pistol in my backpack,” she replies.
“I’ll grab it,” Gage offers, disappearing into the master bedroom and returning a few seconds later with Rena’s backpack in hand .
She takes it from him, and judging by our stares, she astutely determines that we’d like her to produce it, but just in case, Gage makes it clear.
“You can’t kill someone with a gun stowed in a bag.”
“I wasn’t invited to do the killing tonight, Big Guy,” she retorts while opening a false compartment, which is surely how she managed to carry a weapon inside a club, aside from batting her flirty eyelashes.
In a nonchalant move, she furnishes her pistol . That may be the technical categorization of the weapon in her hand, but it presents much more like a submachine gun.
“What the fuck?” I hiss. “You cart a CZ Scorpion Micro around in your damn backpack?”
She shrugs while Gage and I gape at her.
“Noires don’t fuck around,” she says, and for the briefest second, a hollowness sails over her, but she masks it. “It’s easy to conceal because it’s only fourteen inches. Axel and Ryker make me carry it everywhere.”
It also has a folding brace that, when snapped into place, essentially transforms it into a short-barreled rifle, which needs to be registered with the ATF. Pistols don’t, so this is a clever workaround. Her brothers wanted to ensure that if she needed to take someone out, she couldn’t miss. It will certainly get the job done.
“Did you have it with you at the dress shop?” I question. Liam told me he had given her his spare gun and she handled it like a pro.
“Yes.” She huffs with an eye roll, as though this isn’t the first time she’s fielded this inquisition. “But my bag got thrown, so it wasn’t initially available.”
My molars sink into the fleshy inside of my cheek. “Right. Like Gage said, you can’t shoot a gun stowed in a bag. Keep it out.”
Gage bobs his head, smirking at her with a glint of pride. “I think she’s good. Let’s go, brother.”
We say our goodbyes, lock up the house, and hop into Gage’s Ram 1500 TRX truck .
Relaxing in the seat, I open the app on my phone to view my Little Moon. “She’s one surprise after another.”
“She sure is.” He smiles, programming the address into the GPS and taking off.
I rest my arm on the windowsill, mulling over the things she said while I watch her. “She knows her mom had an affair, and I think she’s aware that Balzano is her father. I’m not sure she understands what that means or even knows who Johnny Balzano is though.”
“I figured as much,” he muses. “Doesn’t fucking matter. Hayden Noire was a bastard too. Why the hell would she care which asshole created her? She belongs to her brothers.” And after another beat, he tacks on, “She belongs to us.”
As much as I agree with that sentiment and love how seamlessly she fits, it’s not that simple. Not for her.
He’s silent for a good five minutes, so I finally dive into what he’s not saying. What I’ve repeatedly asked to be left out of because I was convinced the knowledge of someone hurting her—or her family—would unhinge me.
It still might.
“Did Axel set the fire that killed her parents?”
“Yes.” He glances over at me, confirming that I want to know whatever he’s about to spill. When I offer a curt nod, he expounds, “But he thought it was only his father in the house. Johnny Balzano discovered Axel’s plan, knocked out Leslie Noire—their mom—and stashed her in there before the fire.”
Motherfucker.