Chapter 20
DAMIANO
I know I should leave Madison alone. I know it. And yet I can’t ignore the feeling in my gut. It’s urging me to take action. Something is wrong, and I should be moving to resolve it.
I could send our Nove guards back to Madison’s house. It would break her trust even more than I’ve already broken it. Her safety is more important than her trust, but I don’t want to lose her forever.
Instead of sending the Nove guards back, I call Ironwood.
Marlon, one of Jaxon and Ryder’s new guys, answers.
“So you’re on phone duty tonight,” I say. “This is Damiano Romano, I don’t know if you recall meeting me several weeks ago.”
“Oh yes, of course I remember you, Mr. Romano. How can I help you tonight? Mr. Callihan and Mr. Marsel are both out for the evening, but I could take a message for you.”
“No, no, I have their personal numbers. I’m calling about another friend of mine, Madison Greene.”
“Ah.” Marlon’s friendliness evaporates.
“I know you take client privacy very seriously.”
“Yes,” he agrees in a careful tone.
“Marlon, I don’t want to compromise her privacy. All I’m looking for is some reassurance that Madison called you and made arrangements for security.”
“Yes, she called,” Marlon says. “I can’t give you any other details, though. It doesn’t matter how close you are with my bosses. If I shared a client’s info, they’d fire me faster than it would take for me to hang up this phone.”
I exhale in relief. At least she called Ironwood like she said she would. “Thank you, Marlon. That’s all I need. I’m just trying to make sure she’s safe.”
Marlon chuckles. “I understand. I’d do the same for my girl.”
“I appreciate it.” A loud beeping sounds in the background. I know an alarm when I hear it. “It sounds like you have something to deal with, so I’ll let you go. Take care—”
“Wait!” Marlon’s shout almost causes me to drop the phone.
The alarm continues to beep, and a female voice starts talking loudly. She’s likely already on the phone with their client.
Marlon lowers his voice. “Mr. Romano, if you know this woman, you should go to her house. Right now.”
In the background, the alarm beeps with insidious insistence. I’m familiar enough with Ironwood’s system to guess what it means.
My lungs seize. This is exactly what I was trying to prevent. Madison is in danger.
I grip my phone tightly. “Can you share anything, any details?”
“I can’t, I’m sorry, sir.”
“Thanks, Marlon.” I hang up and run downstairs to Seth’s flat.
He answers his door quickly, an annoyed expression on his face. “If you want to complain about Mirarosa, I don’t want to hear about it—”
“No.” I struggle to breathe, to talk, to think. “It’s Madison. Someone’s breaking into her house again.”
* * *
MADISON
My phone rings next to me—I see it light up rather than hear it over the deafening alarm. The word Ironwood blazes over the screen. I scramble to answer. “Yes?”
“Ms. Greene, this is Natalie with Ironwood Security.” She sounds calm and professional, which is not at all how I feel. “Did you set off your alarm?”
“No,” I whisper. “I’m in bed.” And I’m really fucking scared. I can’t sit here. I need to hide. I slide off the side of the bed, huddling on the floor.
“The police are on their way. I’m checking our video feeds right now.” A moment passes. Natalie continues, “Our feeds show that someone opened the back door. They ran off after the alarm sounded.”
Some of my panic eases. “So he’s gone?”
“Yes, ma’am, it appears so. However, we’d like you to meet with the police and allow them to do a walk-through, as the rear door is still open.”
“Yes, of course.” I force myself out from under my blankets and stand. I’m wearing a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt. I throw on a hoodie as well, to fight the chill.
Red, white, and blue lights strobe through my bedroom window.
“The police are here,” I say.
“Excellent. They’re ahead of schedule. Would you like to stay on the line?”
I hesitate before realizing I don’t care if I sound like a wimp. “Yes, please.”
Natalie remains on the phone with me while I walk downstairs. I keep her updated on what I’m doing and where I am. I ask, “You haven’t seen the guy come back or anything, have you?”
“No. I have a giant screen full of video feeds in front of me, and there is no movement, save the lights approaching your driveway. I’ll unlock the gate for you, if that’s all right?”
“Yes, please.” Dammit, I feel so incapable, so helpless.
A black, unmarked car speeds toward the house. All I can see are the bright lights on top, blinding me.
“They’re here,” I say to Natalie.
“Nothing on the scanners,” she says with a note of concern. “I’ll remain on the phone with you in case they have questions. I have some questions for them, as well.”
“Thanks so much,” I say as I open the door for the police.
Two male officers get out of the car and hurry to greet me at the door.
“May I have a word with your security company?” The taller officer holds out his hand for my phone.
“Sure.” I hand it over.
He jabs his thumb on the screen before pocketing my device.
I stare in confusion. “What—why did you do that?”
The second officer hits me before I even see it coming.
* * *
SETH
Another night racing through San Esteban to check on Madison. Damiano drives, his expression hard as he navigates the dark streets leading to Old Thirty-Three.
I can’t stand this. She could be hurt. Scared. And we aren’t there.
I don’t know what to say to Damiano. I’m afraid to ask if he sent our guys to guard her despite her wishes, and that’s how he knows something happened. It would be wrong if he did. And yet, I wouldn’t blame him.
Rather than continue to wonder, I finally ask, “How do you know about the break-in?”
“I was talking to Ironwood when her alarm went off,” Damiano says as he veers around a tight corner. His voice is tight, stressed. “I didn’t send Buster and Fletch back. Although now I wish I fucking had.”
I wish he had, too.
* * *
MADISON
As I stumble backward, pain throbbing over the entire left side of my face, two more people get out of the cop car.
Derick and Crane—my cousins.
The “police officers” push their way into the house, advancing on me. I’m still trying to shake off my dizziness when they grab my arms and wrench them behind my back. One of them stuffs something in my mouth—I taste dusty fabric tinged with blood. My lip is bleeding from where he hit me.
I think this is a man’s sock in my mouth. My stomach heaves.
They drag me back to a corner of the kitchen, far from the back door, far from the knife block.
I stare hard at my cousins as they step into the house. My house. Is this some kind of twisted revenge because I inherited the place that they wanted? What’s funny is Ford isn’t here, and he was the one actually living in the place.
The shorter “officer” points to my cousins. “Okay, we got you here. The rest is up to you.”
“Wait,” Derick says. “You gotta finish things.”
The “officer” laughs. “You need our help with this tiny woman? Amateurs. Figure it out yourself. You hired us to get in. Murder costs extra.”
Murder? I try to make myself smaller in my little corner of the kitchen, shivering. The tile beneath my bare feet is freezing. My arms are pressed against the granite counter. Everything is cold except the burning pain in my face.
There has to be a way out of here. Either a door, or a really good weapon. Something I can wield with my hands tied behind my back.
“No, you gotta stay and finish this,” Crane says. “The only reason we came is to make sure you do it. The last guy fucked up.”
The last guy. My cousins are responsible for my other break-in. It wasn’t a random burglary. They were going to kill me.
“Look, just finish her off, because when she dies, we get the house and money.” Crane spits on the floor at my feet.
Has he lost his mind? That’s not how it works.
“Then we’ll use that money to pay you.” Derick nods, completely confident in this plan. “If we do it, they’ll know it was us because we’ll inherit everything.”
What the absolute fuck? I’m going to be murdered because not only are my cousins greedy, they’re really freaking stupid.
I try to talk through the gag—if I can get them to understand this will be bad for all of us, maybe I can stop things before they go too far.
But all I can do is make unintelligible, desperate noises.
Derick gives me a derisive look.
Crane grabs one of the knives from the block and hands it to the shorter cop. “We’re good for the money. Do it.”