Chapter Thirty-Four
Luca
One hour earlier
“A scorned woman will burn the world down, making the soot her walkway to hell. Paved in despair and retribution. Clare Briggs is my aunt, the closest thing I have to a mother, and when a mother cries, those who love her will hurt who or whatever made her shed those precious tears. And that was you and your little bitch. Taking the only thing Clare loved, and that was my uncle Briggs. If you thought this was all over, you’re an idiot and deserve to die.
But for you, you get time, time to suffer along with that sweet piece of pussy you have back home. ”
Rowan. Fuck. I’d die right now if it meant she’d stay safe, but I know that isn’t the case.
They’ll do whatever they can to make sure she’s taken care of, too.
“You put a hit on your own self.” It comes out like a question, but it’s a fact.
I rack my brains, going back over all our correspondence, wanting to slap myself for overlooking, but they did it so well.
“I was tired of waiting. We were going to take care of it sooner, but apparently, you have a guard dog living in your backyard.” He shrugs like the pompous asshole he is.
His words confuse me, but I don’t let him see it. Roxy?
Needing to get to my earpiece, I say what I know will ruffle his feathers. “You better hope I don’t get out of here because when I do, ole Aunt Clare will reenact the scene Rowan went through in the tomb.” I give him a bloody smile.
I see the punch and brace myself, playing it off, rolling to the side, maneuvering my hand up to my ear, pressing on the button to give them sound so they can hear what’s going on. Groaning, I roll back over, eyes searing into Aiden.
The big man limps out of the restroom, his balls still in his stomach. My eyes track him until they can’t anymore.
“She’s going to have fun with you.” He laughs. “Aunt Clare!” Aiden positions his bare foot on my neck, applying pressure.
The sound of high heels clicking against the floor announces her before her presence does, until her small body takes residence between the threshold of the bathroom and the bedroom. She looks so much like Catherine; it’s scary. Her glare is laser-focused on me.
“You should have minded your business, and you’d be living in complete oblivion about the goings on around you, but you had to be a hero.
” Closing the gap between us, she gently crouches down, her tight pencil skirt becoming a second skin as she whispers, “You were stupid if you thought there'd be no consequences for you. For you both.”
I feel my nostrils flare as anger rises in me, my breathing becoming rapid.
All I want to do is wrap my hands around her old ass neck, watch her face as I squeeze the life out of her.
For her, I’d rearrange my rules and kill a woman.
For my woman, I’ll throw it out the fucking window.
“Just like Briggs was stupid to think he could keep doing what he was doing. And you see where that got him.” My words are hard to get out from the pressure on my neck, but I can tell by the look on her face that she understood every fucking word.
She stands, smoothing her nonexistent wrinkles with her hands, places her foot on my chest where Rowan’s name is freshly tattooed, and presses her heel down with all her might.
Wincing, I fix my face, not allowing her any joy from the pain it’s causing.
She’s weak; her body shakes as she tries to apply more pressure. My lips slowly spread wide, smiling up at her. “You better.” Coughing. “Hope you kill me,” I declare, muffled. Aiden looks so smug, thinking he runs shit. Joke’s on you motherfucker.
I have one chance to do this right. My primary concern is Aiden, getting him down, and then Clare.
Inching my hand under my hoodie to my shoulder holster.
My eyes never leave Clair; when in the blink of an eye, I have my other gun drawn, and the shot ricochets off the walls, piercing our ears.
Aiden’s face is one of pure shock as he falls to the floor.
Clare screams, and over her wailing, I can hear gunfire and shouting from outside the bedroom in the distance.
With my other hand, I grab Clare’s ankle, yanking. Ripping a scream from her, as she falls in a heap on the marble floor. Righting myself, limping to her, she hurriedly tries to scoot away from me, but gets nowhere, bumping into the bathtub.
Her hands come up to cover her face. “Who has the upper hand now, Mrs. Briggs?” I use my gun to spread her hands, which are adorned with diamond rings. Way too many for a normal person’s taste. Cocking my head, I run the barrel of my gun up her lips. “Open that mouth.”
Shaking, she closes her eyes, tightening her thin lips, thinking that it will keep my gun out of her mouth, like she has an option.
“Open your fucking mouth!” I scream down at her.
Her whole body jumps. “Just like my girl didn’t get a say, you won’t either.
You like to take others’ will away, I’m going to take yours!
” Pushing the barrel hard against her lips, she moans out, giving me the perfect opportunity to push it into her mouth.
I do with so much force; I hear the metal clank against her teeth; she screams in pain.
Knowing I just broke it. “Why couldn’t you leave well enough alone?
” Crouching down to be eye level with her.
“Don’t worry, Clare, you’ll be with your husband real soon. ”
She squeezes her eyes shut, forcing her tears to trail down her wrinkled skin.
No sympathy rolls through my body for her.
I want her to be frightened, just like Rowan was.
I look at her and see nothing. The only reason she’s showing any emotion is for herself.
Not for anything else. She doesn’t want to die.
People like her and Briggs think that they’re invincible until they're finally faced with their mortality. Something their money can’t buy, nor get them out of.
Sounds filter through the bathroom before I hear voices, “Luca!” It’s Thomas, panic laced in his words.
“In here! Guy’s there’s another one somewhere,” I call out, needing them on high alert.
“Not anymore,” Weeks informs me as he runs into the bathroom, tailing Thomas. Veering my gaze back to Clare, her eyes are wide open. Her blue eye color is popping from the redness of her tears. I smirk at her.
“Holy shit,” Weeks blurts out when he sees who’s in front of me. “How?”
I laugh. “This was their master plan.” I wave my free hand around and then point to a lifeless Aiden. “Say hi to Clare's nephew.”
Thomas stands above me. “Goddamn. It never ends.”
“Oh, it’s fixing to now.” I shove my gun farther into Clare's mouth. A whine escapes muffled around it.
I feel a hand on my shoulder. “Brother, are you sure?”
Knowing exactly what Weeks is asking, I nod my head. “I’ll choose my woman any day over filth like her.” No words I’ve spoken have ever been truer. Leaving Clare alive will ultimately put Rowan at risk. And that isn’t happening.
I stand up, the gun never leaving her mouth. “Clare, you’re going to stand up and step into this bathtub.”
Her eyebrows rise. And I smile, because at that moment, I know I won’t have her blood on my hands.
“Keep your guns on her. Any move, shoot her,” I instruct the guys.
Clare stands, eyes scanning us three as she feels for the lip of the tub, stepping over it backward, ever so slowly, scared I’ll pull the trigger.
“Lay down.”
Confusion mars her face, but she does what she’s told. Immersing her body in the old tub of water. She shakes as she lowers herself.
“You’re going to take this gun and do not fucking remove it from your mouth. And Clare, move, and they’ll shoot you. Also, you fuck up and I promise you, I’ll kill Catherine.” Her body jerks when I mention her name, knowing I just found her sweet spot.
Her shaking hands reach up, grabbing the gun handle, both hands enclosing around it.
“We should have some fun tonight.” I look to Weeks. “I’m sure we can find something fun to do with Cat. I bet she purrs really loud.”
Clare cries around the barrel of the gun.
“Want to save your daughter, Clare? Want to do something actually worthy? Pull the trigger.”
Her head shakes as more tears escape her eyes, rolling down her cheeks and becoming one with the water.
“God,” Thomas moans next to me, “I’ve been waiting for your go-ahead with little Kitty Cat.” He thrusts his hips and I want to laugh. His acting is terrible; his face conveys that his words make him sick, but anything for the game.
“Promise,” Clare mutters around the barrel. Hiccupping, “Promise me you won’t.” Sadness etches across her face. I’m shocked to see actual care for Catherine. And I need to know if that care goes to her other daughter, too.
“Well,” I tap on my chin, “can I have Clover?”
Clare’s head shakes vigorously as her eyes widen, thinking maybe I’ll make a trade with her. Her other daughter for her life.
I squint at her, repulsed. “What kind of mother are you?” I spit at her.
Weeks mutters under his breath where she can’t hear him, “Bitch.”
“It’s time you go meet your husband. I’m sure he’s waiting for you in hell.”
Her sobs come out loud, her hands shaking uncontrollably.
“Now, Clare.”
The bullet tearing through her brain cuts her unholy scream short. We all three stand there, watching her head bleed out, slowly sinking under the water, that’s dying crimson.
Stepping back, I look at Thomas. “Call Damian, make sure Rowan is safe. I want her taken to the gym.”
“On it.” He turns around and heads out of the bathroom.
“I need to get home.” Panic laces my voice as I look to Weeks, who only nods my confirmation.
“Let’s set this place blazing.” Weeks' face is void of any emotion, but his eyes are tinged with pure rage.
Not giving Clare or Aiden a second look, we run out of the bathroom, down the stairs where Thomas is on the phone and going through a backpack, pulling out explosives.
Weeks runs to him, grabs one, and disappears upstairs.
Hanging up the phone, I say, “Damian is on it.”
And that’s all I needed to hear for my heart to steady its pace. Knowing soon, Rowan will be at Hard Knocks.
I finally notice my aching body, now that my adrenaline has petered off some.
Reaching for a bundle of explosives, taking it to the living room, when my head swivels to the closet door, remembering the girl I forced in there.
I stand there, looking at it, before setting the explosives on the island and pushing the timer.
“Sorry,” I whisper to the closed closet and the girl trapped in there.
I don’t know who she is or what she knows, and I won’t take that chance, not if it means Rowan is at stake.
I thought I was going to leave without a woman’s blood on my hands, but here I am, knowingly leaving her. My mind and heart fight me as I walk to the open front door where Thomas and Weeks stand. Looking back behind me, “Forgive me.”
We book it out of the house, to the car that’s now sitting in the driveway, idling. The exhaust leaves white smoke in the cool night air.
Exiting the gate, Weeks looks at me, handing me the detonator. Not letting myself have a second thought, I push the red button; the house explodes instantly, fire erupting, the car shakes from the impact as Thomas fishtails onto the street, putting distance between us and the house.
NOW
Removing my clothing to step inside the shower, the need to wash my sins away is interrupted by my phone ringing.
Looking at it, it’s Damian.
“Hey.” I pick up on the third ring.
I can hear muttering through the speaker, “We have a problem.”
My heart sinks. “What?”
“I went to get Rowan, and the apartment is empty. Roxy was in the hallway.” His voice is strained.
I try to tell myself she just went to grab something, not wanting to think the worst.
“Luca.” I hear murmurs of another muffled voice with him.
“Find her, Damian. Fucking find her.” My words crack on their exit. Knowing what Aiden told me, I don’t have a clue what kind of danger she can be in. My body is overtaken with fear.
His intake of breath is loud, while I can’t seem to fill my lungs. “Your dad is here.”
His words don’t register.
“Let me see it.” I hear my father’s voice. “Luca, son.”
I stand there naked, shaking. “Find her,” I beg him, tears streaming down my face. Scared we’re already too late. “Dad, find her…please.” I fall to the floor.
“Don’t worry, I think I know where she is, and Luca, get home.”
Opening my mouth to respond, the line goes dead. Sitting there, fear coursing through me. Having an idea of where she went.
My fingers shake as I try to hit ‘call back’ on my screen, finally making contact, Damian’s face pops up.
“Luca,” he answers.
“I think I know where she is. Fuck, Damian,” I choke out, not caring that he hears me crying, breaking.
“We know,” Damian replies softly.
Forcing myself off the floor, confusion overtakes my brain about how they would know. When he helps me make sense of his words. “Your dad has been keeping tabs on you two for a while.”
Flashbacks of the shadow I saw, the hut, and the camera being messed with. He’s been here the whole time… the guard dog.
Anger tries to smash down my panic, anger for him striking panic through us, anger at him for staying hidden.
But my panic for Rowan bubbles back to the surface.
“Please go get her.” I don’t give him time to answer before I end the call, throwing on my clothes that were in a ball on the floor, not giving a shit about the blood that’s now intertwined with the fabric, and running out of the bathroom.
“We have to go. Now!” I scream as I throw everything into my bag.
Weeks lies on the bed, shooting straight up. “What’s going on?” As Thomas stands from the chair.
“Rowan,” I choke out, not giving a damn if they see my emotions and how fucking scared I am for her right now. “Damian went to get her, and she’s gone.” I look to Thomas, “She went to David’s. She’s going to kill him.” Thomas’ face turns white; his olive skin, I’ve never seen that shade before.
Us three work overtime to get everything packed and situated, not needing words, knowing what needed to be done.
“I’ll drive,” I tell them while grabbing the keys from Thomas, before they follow me out of the motel room.
There is no way I could just sit in the car; I need a job to get me to Rowan.
We’re five hours away this time, so we drove here.
Thinking I can get home in over four if I break every law known to man.
Throwing our bags into the trunk, I’m in the car with it revving before they both jump in, not even giving them time to shut their doors before I take off, tires squealing.