Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
BLAKE
“Are you sure this is the right address?” I double-check the information in the email Jessica sent me and repeat it to Damon.
I nod, and glance out the passenger window again.
The house in front of us isn’t what I expected.
It’s an average-size, upper middle-class home.
The kind with a two-car garage, a well-maintained lawn, and a porch swing.
Could be the place. Except the multi-colored lights look like someone took their time climbing a ladder and freezing their ass off all day to install.
And the plastic, illuminated Santa and reindeer on the roof don’t exactly scream sex trafficking ring.
There’s at least six cars in the driveway and lining the street. Not the luxury automobiles we saw when we busted The Brotherhood. I’m talking ten-year-old minivans, a beat-up Honda, and I think I spot a work van.
I crane my neck further and point across the yard. “Is that a Hello Kitty Christmas inflatable?”
Damon’s gaze strays to the spot I’m pointing at. “Uh. Yeah. It is.”
“Something’s off,” I say, triple-checking the address. “I’m texting Jessica.”
“Look, let’s just stick to the plan. It’s getting late and we don’t know what time everything’s going down. If it’s a sale… we know what can happen if we lose even ten minutes of time.”
He’s referring to the New Year’s Eve auction, back when we were still searching for Bailey. The one that Jasper and Falin fumbled and ended up losing multiple women and children. The thought makes my gut churn.
“Fine. But don’t go around the back. I want you with me—my assistant.”
I can tell he’s not crazy about this new addition… it’s all in the way his shoulders tense. “Whatever you want, Angel. I’ll grab the bag.”
He texts Leon and Falin before we leave the car with the updated plan.
Not that they can do much, being over an hour away.
I bend to grab my medical bag from the backseat, but Damon beats me to it.
There’s no reason to argue with him about carrying my own stuff.
He won’t have it. I smirk, a secret little look to hide the fact that I love how chivalrous he is. Can’t let his head get too big.
“Ready?” I ask, as my finger hovers over the doorbell. There’s noise coming from inside… boisterous conversation and… are those Christmas carols?
“All set,” Damon answers, his hand hovering over his concealed weapon.
The doorbell seems to ring louder than a fire alarm. Or maybe I’m just jumpy. In seconds, the door’s wrenched open and a large man in the most colorfully hideous ugly sweater greets us.
“Vinny! Your friends are here!” He looks me up and down.
“He didn’t say he invited a girl.” His gaze turns to Damon.
“Tell me she’s not dating you. I gotta get Vinny engaged and outta this house before my wife tries to give him the main bedroom.
The kid already eats me out of house and home, takes the Camaro out whenever he feels like it, steals my recliner every damn Sunday.
It’s like he’s the man of the house now. ”
“Uhh,” I murmur and glance at Damon, who looks equally confused.
Before either of us can respond, the man—I’m assuming Vinny’s father—grabs Damon by the shoulder and pulls him inside. “Come on, come on! Don’t let the heat out. My oil bill’s already through the roof with all these people here coming and going like it’s Grand Central.”
“Wait, I think there’s been a—” I start, but he’s already moved on to me, ushering me through the door with a crazy amount of strength. I guess he is a big guy—taller than Jasper for sure and stocky too, but damn, I wasn’t expecting to get manhandled by The Hulk.
“And you! Look at you, all dressed up like it’s a costume party. What’s with the scrubs? You a doctor or something? Vinny said he invited friends but he didn’t say nothing about a doctor. Am I being pranked? Like that Jackwagon show?”
“I’m a—”
“MA! VINNY’S FRIENDS ARE HERE!” he bellows over his shoulder as we get practically dragged into the entryway.
Oh my God.
The space ahead of us is absolute chaos.
There must be at least thirty people crammed into the living room and dining area.
Christmas decorations cover every surface— shiny garland, colored lights, ceramic snowman figurines, snow globes, those creepy three-foot-tall motion activated Santa and Mrs. Claus dolls.
A massive tree takes up an entire corner, so full of ornaments I’m surprised the branches haven’t snapped.
The TV is playing It’s a Wonderful Life at full volume but nobody’s watching because everyone’s talking over each other.
A tiny elderly woman appears from the kitchen, like she teleported, wiping her hands on an apron that says, Nonna’s Kitchen. She takes one look at me and her face lights up.
“Oh! Oh, Vinny brought a girl! Frank, did you see? He brought a real girl!” She rushes over and grabs my face with both hands—hands that smell strongly of garlic and onions—and studies me like I’m some kind of apparition. “You’re so pretty! And look at those cheekbones. You Italian?”
“I’m—yes—uh—no. We’re not—”
“Ma, leave her alone,” a voice calls from somewhere in the chaos.
“I’m just looking! Can’t a mother look?” She turns to Damon and her eyes bug out of her head. “And you! You’re even prettier than her! You could be in the movies!”
I finally glance over at Damon and I can see it… He’s trying so hard not to laugh at this absurdity. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Ma’am! He called me ma’am, Frank! This one’s got manners. Not like that other one… What was his name?” She squeezes his cheek right at his dimple. “You hungry? Of course, you’re hungry. Vinny’s friends are always hungry. Come, come! I got seven fishes, lasagna, braciole—”
I shoot Damon a pleading look as he’s being dragged into the fray. I can barely make out his words as he tries to explain our situation to no avail.
“Actually, we’re not—” I try again, but Frank’s already turned his back to me.
“VINNY!” Frank bellows up the stairs. “GET DOWN HERE! YOUR FRIENDS ARE WAITING!” Then he murmurs some choice words. “I swear that kid gives me agita.”
“We’re not Vinny’s friends,” Damon says, loud enough this time that I hear.
Frank waves him off. “Sure you are. He said friends were coming. You’re here.” Then he makes some kind of sound that’s between a grunt and an oof.
A teenage girl with dark curly hair appears, holding an adorable baby on her hip. “Dad, Vinny said he wasn’t bringing anyone tonight. You’re thinking of last week.”
“Last week was last week. These are tonight’s friends.”
“There are no tonight friends,” she insists. She looks at us apologetically. “I’m so sorry. My dad gets confused—”
“I’m not confused! They rang the bell! Che cazzo!”
The girl covers the baby's ears. “Dad! You said you wouldn’t curse around the baby! I can’t believe you…”
And she’s off with Frank in tow, arguing loudly. Damon’s already halfway to the dining table, being introduced to someone named Aunt Gina.
What the actual fuck is happening? Do I go join him? Sneak out?
I’m about to plan a rescue mission when a tall lanky guy about my age comes bounding down the stairs. He’s wearing a backwards Yankee hat that completely clashes with his red button down shirt.
“Who are you, gorgeous?” he asks, perusing me in a similar way as the elderly woman but I’m going to guess with much dirtier intentions.
“Are you Vinny?”
“Depends on who’s asking,” he says, tipping his chin up and smirking.
For fuck’s sake. I don’t have time for this.
I sigh and cross my arms. “I’m looking for 2847 Primrose Lane. Is this it?”
His smirk falters. “Nah, this is 2847 Primrose Court. Lane is like two streets over. People mix ‘em up all the time.”
Why the fuck would they name them like that?
“Court? Shit,” I mumble. “I’m sorry but I need to rescue my boyfriend from your family.”
I gesture toward the dining room, where Damon is being accosted by no less than three women of varying ages. Vinny shrugs. “Looks like he’s doing fine to me.”
“Look, I—”
“Ah, Vin, there you are!” Frank spots his son and walks over, holding a freshly poured glass of red wine. “You didn’t say you invited a girl! Your Ma wouldda gotten out the good plates.”
The teenage girl follows sans baby, giving me a look of solidarity. “I can’t believe you two… Dumb and dumber, I swear.”
“Hey! Mouth like a trucker on this one,” Frank says, with a drop of wine dribbling down his lip.
“You looking for Lane?” she asks.
“Yes. We got the wrong address.”
She smiles. “Happens every few months. Whoever named these roads were—” Frank’s brow shoots up and the girl doesn’t finish her thought.
“Let me get your boyfriend before Nonna ropes him into joining us for midnight mass.”
I laugh, just picturing that. “Thank you, and I’m so sorry for the confusion.”
“No worries.” She starts heading toward the dining room, then pauses. “What’s your name, by the way?”
“Blake.”
“I’m Sofia. Nice to meet you, even if it was an accident.” She grins and disappears into the crowd.
While she gets Damon, I pull out my phone to check the time. 8:24 PM. My stomach squeezes… It’s been in knots all night but we didn’t need this delay. We’re supposed to be at the actual address at 8:30, and we still need to find it, park, and get into position.
A text comes through from an unknown number.
Unknown: Dr. Hyland, confirming your arrival at 8:30. 2847 Primrose Lane. Please don’t be late.
Shit. We need to go.
I’m about to push my way through the crowd to get Damon myself when Nonna materializes in front of me like a tiny garlic-scented ghost.
“Sofia said you’re leaving?” She looks genuinely upset, with her hunched shoulders and wide eyes. “But you didn’t eat anything!”
“I’m sorry, it smells delicious and I’d love to but we have to—”
“No, no, no.” She grabs my arm with a death grip. What is it with this family and their hand strength? “You came all the way here on Christmas Eve. You can’t go out into the night air without eating. You’ll starve! Frank!” She turns and hollers. “Get them plates!”
Vinny’s back. “Nonna, they said they have the wrong house—”
“So? They’re here now! And look at her—” She gestures toward me. “She’s so skinny! When’s the last time you ate?”
“This afternoon—”
“This afternoon!” She looks horrified, like I just confessed to murdering the family pet. “Frank, did you hear? This afternoon! The poor girl is starving!”
“We’re not starving, really—” I try, but she’s already dragging me toward the dining table.
“Come, come. I have lasagna, bracciole, meatballs, seven fishes—you like fish? Everyone likes my fish. My grandmother’s recipe. God rest her soul.”
A few people look up and make the sign of the cross. “Amen.”
I catch Damon’s eye across the room. He’s being held hostage by Aunt Gina, who’s pinching his cheeks and talking about how handsome he is. He looks at me with an expression that’s equal parts amused and desperate.
This man, who’s quite literally ended lives, is being taken down by a gaggle of Italian aunties.
“Really, we have an emergency—” I try again.
“An emergency?” Nonna’s grip finally loosens. “What kind of emergency?”
I raise my voice to get my point across. “A medical one. I’m a doctor, and there’s a patient who really needs—”
“A DOCTOR! Frank! She’s a doctor! Vinny, did you hear? She’s a doctor!”
“Nonna, I have a girlfriend already!” Vinny calls from somewhere behind me.
“Well, this one is a doctor!”
Oh my God.
They start arguing and—thank the baby Jesus in the manger—the distraction is finally enough for Damon to break free and grab my hand.
“Come on. I’m afraid if we don’t escape now, she’ll force feed you until we have to get your Epi-Pen.”
“You’re not wrong,” I say, following his lead back through the dining room and out the front door.
As soon as we step away from the house, we look at each other and bust out laughing.
“We have so much to unpack about that encounter. But first,” I pull out my phone and show him the text. “Lane. This is Court. Wrong street.”
“Motherfucker,” he groans. “Let’s go.”
The moment we’re in the car, I put the correct address on the GPS. “Seven minutes away.”
“Ready?”
He guns the engine, while I double-check my medical bag. We fly through the residential streets, Christmas lights and decorations blurring past us. Neither of us speak. Now it’s real and we feel the weight of what we’re about to walk into.
The homes get bigger, more spread out, and less decorated the closer we get.
Then the GPS announces that we’ve arrived.
“This looks like I thought it would,” Damon says, as he pulls into the driveway and cuts the engine.
“Yeah.” My mouth is dry and chest tight. This house is exactly that. It sits far back from the street, partially hidden by snow-covered trees and a stone wall. There’s no lights, no inflatable decorations. It feels cold and imposing.
Flood lights announce our arrival. “Are you sure about this?”
I meet his gaze and nod, despite the nerves churning my gut. “Yes. I know I’ll be safe with you.”
He leans over and takes my face in his hands. His lips meet mine, his kiss full of strength, promises, and love. I almost change my mind and tell him to take me home… Almost. But I’m in this now. No turning back. “Let’s go ruin some asshole’s Christmas.”
Hell yes.
We exit the car as quietly as possible. I straighten my coat, check the comm in my ear, and suck in a breath. I’m Dr. Blake Hyland. Competent, professional, definitely not here to dismantle a trafficking operation.
Damon disappears into the shadows, heading to scout the perimeter to find another entrance.
And I walk toward the door, holding tight to the strap of my bag, ignoring the way my heart pounds against my ribs.
This is it.
Time to save some lives.