Chapter 23
LARK
As I stared at the box, my heart pounded in my chest like a jackhammer. Like I was facing a deadly animal.
Bastian’s face looked grim and pissed. He carefully lifted the box and set it down again. “It doesn’t weigh much. It can’t be a bomb.”
“I think this guy likes to kill up close and personal.” A bomb wasn’t his style.
“Besides, it wouldn’t have gotten through the mail room security if there was a bomb inside.”
I gripped the red ribbon and pulled it off. I steeled myself and opened the box.
There was only a folded piece of paper inside.
“That was anticlimactic.” I wrinkled my nose. “I half expected a bloody body part.”
Bastian checked inside before pulling the paper out. There was nothing underneath.
I took the paper from him, opened it, then laid it flat on his desk.
All that was listed was an address here in Las Vegas.
I frowned, studying the bold, black letters written by someone with confidence, and maybe a little impatience.
Bastian opened his laptop and typed the address into the map.
“It’s a warehouse in north Vegas.” A groove appeared on his brow. “It says it’s empty and for sale.”
A perfect place to do terrible things that you didn’t want found. “We need to go there.”
His face hardened. “This is a big fucking trap, Lark. He threatened you.”
“And I won’t be going alone.” I cupped his strong jaw, stroking his stubble. “I’m taking the most deadly, infamous assassin I know.” I grinned. “And you.”
His lips quirked for a second, but flattened out again. “I’ll call the guys. It won’t be just us. It’ll be an entire group of assassins.”
I wasn’t used to working in a team. It made me feel a little disconcerted, but I knew Bastian’s friends were loyal to him.
I nodded. “Let’s go. I want this guy, Bastian. I’m not going to let him keep killing.”
He ran a hand over my hair. “I know, little bird.” His tone deepened. “And I’m going to ensure that he doesn’t kill you.”
I tilted my head back, staring at the handsome, harsh edges of his face. He was looking at me like I was special. Like I mattered. My heart fluttered.
Shit. I couldn’t let myself get in too deep.
“Call your friends.”
“I will. Then we’ll grab a vehicle that won’t attract too much attention and get to this address.”
“Let’s find this fucker.”
I sat in the passenger seat of the expensive Maserati SUV as we prowled closer to the address.
“Your idea of a low-key car is a Maserati?” I asked.
“It’s not as flashy as a Ferrari or Lamborghini.” Bastian pulled to a stop in a quiet street and parked.
“You like Italian things.”
“I do. Italians know luxury. Once you’ve had nothing, you dream of beautiful things.” His dark gaze traced my face before he got out of the car.
I blew out a breath and followed. We were both dressed in black, and ready for whatever we discovered in that warehouse. I’d swapped out my jeans and ruined shirt for black cargo pants and a long-sleeved black sweater. And of course, my knives were strapped in place.
Unsurprisingly, Bastian looked great in all-black. It suited him.
I stared at the building across the street.
It was ugly. Squat, rectangular, with no distinguishing features. The entire street was warehouses. A few had security lights on, but most were dark. There wasn’t a soul in sight.
The throaty sound of a motorcycle caught my ear. Cole pulled to a stop beside us on his Harley, and pulled his helmet off. He jerked his chin up.
A second later, a black Range Rover turned into the street, followed by a sleek sportscar. The SUV slid to a stop, and I watched Landon and Nash exit from it.
For a moment, I wondered where Alessio was. Then I saw movement in the shadows by the sidewalk. The ex-mafia enforcer appeared like smoke.
Avengers, assemble.
Or rather, the entire retired-assassin version of the Avengers.
“That’s it?” Landon jerked his head at the warehouse.
“That’s it,” Bastian replied. “Alessio and Cole, circle around the back. Make sure there aren’t any surprises.”
The two men nodded.
“Landon and I will check the side entrances,” Nash said.
“See you in there,” Bastian said.
We crossed the street. My heart was racing and I wasn’t sure why.
No, that wasn’t true. I knew why. Because I might learn more about Ed that I probably didn’t want to know.
But I needed to do this. I needed to stop this killer.
The front of the warehouse was dominated by a large roller door, no doubt used to load trucks. It was closed, and Bastian checked the smaller front door beside it.
It was unlocked.
“There are lights on inside.” He peered through the front window. “They’re faint.”
We were definitely in the right place.
“Stay behind me.” He eased inside.
I rolled my eyes. I was not staying behind him.
The warehouse was a large, cavernous space. The interior was typical, with a scarred, stained concrete floor, and large, metal support posts, and metal beams overhead.
There were dim lights on in the center of the space. As we walked closer, I realized the glow came from a couple of kids’ nightlights. They projected beams of light toward the roof, twinkling and sparkling.
Weird.
“What the hell?” Bastian muttered.
Nash and Landon appeared from the darkness. Both of them were frowning.
“No sign of anyone,” Nash murmured.
We moved deeper into the space. That’s when I saw that there were large photos hung on the metal posts, all at evenly spaced intervals.
I sucked in a breath.
The first picture was an image of Tawnee and Jeff. Their dead bodies slumped on the bloody bed. The photo was in black and white, except for the red ribbons on their wrists.
“Fuck,” Bastian clipped.
My chest tight, I walked to the next one.
A murdered family. A mother, father, and two children. More red ribbons.
Bile filled my mouth.
“What the fuck is this?” Bastian breathed, walking ahead of me.
The next one wasn’t a death picture. It showed a happy couple on the street, ice cream cones in hand. Love radiated off them.
In the next image, the same couple was on the floor, their throats slashed. Red ribbons on their wrists.
I locked my emotions down. There were more posters, stretching away into the darkness.
“It’s a damn trophy room,” Nash muttered.
“He’s showing off.” Bastian’s voice was hard.
There was a faint sound and I jerked around. Alessio and Cole appeared, faces set like stone.
“No one in the back,” Alessio murmured.
Cole crossed his arms. “This is fucked up.”
Turning away, I forced myself to look at the next picture. I stared at the red ribbon on one victim. A young boy who’d deserved to live.
Ed had done this. Nothing would ever make that right. There were more happy pictures, as well, where Ed and his accomplice had stalked their victims. And there were more death shots.
“This wasn’t a RRK murder.” Bastian gestured at a murdered family in a car. There were no red ribbons.
Frowning, I studied the next image. No red ribbons. I made myself keep walking. So many dead.
“They were his solo kills,” I whispered. “The ones this guy did without Ed.”
The images got older. Clothes and hairstyles changed. The kills were messier, with different wounds and weapons used.
How long had he been doing this?
“These are his earliest, practice kills,” Landon murmured. “He must have run into Ed at some stage, and they evolved into their red ribbon killings.”
Then I saw the next image and jerked to a stop.
A roar started in my ears.
“Lark?” Bastian’s voice came from far away.
I pressed a hand to my chest. I couldn’t breathe.
“It’s his first kill,” Landon murmured.
“Lark?” Bastian pressed a hand to my back.
The image showed a cute cabin, nestled in the trees. I made myself keep walking, like on autopilot. I knew what I’d see.
The final image was of my parents, their bodies tangled together on a blood-soaked rug.
My legs collapsed out from under me.
“Lark!” Bastian caught me.
“They… My parents.” I turned my face into his chest, pain tearing me open.
“Fucking hell,” Cole murmured.
“This killer slaughtered my parents.”
Bastian scooped me up and headed for the door.
“Nash, collect the evidence and get it out of here. Then burn the place to the ground.”