27. Chapter 24 - Hillary
D irecting men in every corner of my life was exhausting.
Admittedly, the Board of Directors for Lane Enterprises was almost a fair 50-50 split of genders, with a non-binary member as well, but there was something about veteran businessmen who thought they knew it all that grated on my nerves like a lemon zester to the nipples.
The one-hour defensive planning meeting had turned into three. Because I’d known what was coming, I’d already put together a PR plan, but it had taken hours to convince certain curmudgeons it was the best option. They were useful curmudgeons—poking holes in my theories to come up with the best decision was far better than a team o f sniveling ‘yes men’—but their pointed questions and need for answers I couldn’t admit I knew had been an irritating game of shells, when I had far more important things to do.
Important things, like protecting my own ass from Alvarez.
I wasn’t na?ve: this wasn’t anywhere close to being over. Alvarez had been released on bail and placed on monitored house arrest. He’d spend the next few months fighting every tiny legal loophole of this case, and unless they froze his assets—which Kellan was fighting for on his side of the fence—he’d have a bottomless pit of money to throw into his appeal.
He had millions at his disposal. I had billions, though, so no amount of bribery was going to get him a winning verdict. When he’d exhausted all his resources and he was finally thrown in prison, Kellan would arrange for a very painful death through one of the incarcerated Carlos Cartel gang members. Aaron had voted for disembowelment, but I was still vying for castration with a slow bleed-out from the femoral artery. Time would tell.
We’d taken all precautions to be untraceable, but very few things remained actually untraceable in this era of technology. It was a fool’s errand to think we were invincible. I was just waiting for some form of retaliation from the Alvarez family and planned to lie low over the next few days to watch his next moves on the board.
Joey glanced at me every few minutes in the rearview mirror as we drove back to my condo, her brows knitted in a frown. I’d informed my teams the Palace had burned down because of an unforeseen electrical issue, and she’d digested that information without question. The people I hired were intelligent, and she knew a storm was brewing in the electrically charged air around us, but I was having a hard time telling her which front to expect it from.
Alv arez? Antonio? The Six? Due to my merry band of murderous men, we now had an entire fleet of enemies at our back.
My men. A few months ago, I wouldn’t have called any man in this world “mine,” but now, I had three who’d showed they’d move the world for me—or at least murder my enemies with just cause, and truthfully, that meant a hell of a lot more.
Kellan’s overbearing protectiveness drove me up the wall; it also made me feel a sense of safety and security knowing his watchful eyes would never stray too far, and he’d leap to be my sword or shield at any cost.
Aaron’s devotion made me feel precious and cherished; his unwavering commitment strengthened my resolve. I knew I could break into a million pieces and he would glue every single one of them back with perfect care.
Lucky’s casual approach to life disarmed me; he coaxed me out of my protective casing and knew how to show me the lighter side of the darkness we tread. He balanced my sharp edges with his smooth lines and soft smiles, and I craved his whimsy, even when I wanted to punch it out of him.
Four dark souls exorcising their demons through an unlikely combination of revenge and sexual tension—it was the plot of an excellent book.
I’d cautioned all my men to be vigilant. I was grateful they had the skills to take care of themselves, but the roiling sensation of sparklers going off in my gut all day had been enough to put this seasoned vigilante on edge.
Thankfully, the world believed Aaron Rodriguez was dead. Veronica and Vicente were currently being raked naked through burning coals at their recent shift in allegiances. Had he been alive to see it, Aaron would have been coerced to take the fall—or planted as the scapegoat without his knowledge. We would watch their palace burn together from the comfort of our own. Then, once it was nothin g but a pile of powdered ashes, we’d take out their brothel network, too.
I’d tasked Lauchlan with his own plan for dealing with The Six. We couldn’t afford an additional war front with another criminal organization; he’d find a way to charm them the way he charmed everyone else when he couldn’t come up with the painting. Then we’d run some of our own reconnaissance in the background. I wanted to know who’d hired him.
You didn’t get to be rich and powerful without a lineup of enemies waiting to take their swing at you with maces and pitchforks; the list of culprits was as long as the Nile. When we found them, they’d learn the true consequences of fucking with Hillary Lane.
My long-term plan for Antonio was still very much in play, and ruining Alvarez’s company would only make for an easier transition to attack mode when the timing was right. Right now was most definitely not the time to piss off both mobsters in my backyard—but it was coming.
Traffic was significantly backed up in the downtown core, so I browsed through my messages, surprised I had seen nothing come through from Aaron or Lucky. Kellan and his brothers were disbanding the last few outposts for Alvarez’s gangs in Sequoia, but Lucky should have been home by now after clearing out his desk.
I really didn’t like this Mother Hen hat I was wearing. It was as unfamiliar to me as an Amish bonnet, and it did nothing to complement my killer outfit.
Still…
I sent them all a message on the new group chat I’d created, asking for a check in. Then I shoved my phone in my purse, desperate to unplug for a few minutes. I’d convince Kellan to spar with me this evening to rid my body of some of this tension. Then I’d convince him to use me for his pleasure and we could escape into each other for a little while.
Or maybe we could re-live the threesome of the other night. In my darkest sexual fantasies, I’d never considered these two Alpha males sharing me between them, or ever sharing themselves with each other, but the moment had been the perfect melding of sweat-slicked bodies and desperate desire. I replayed every delicious second in my mind as Joey weaved through the stalled cars along the freeway, closing my eyes to relive their taste on my tongue and their cocks stuffed into my—
“Ms. Lane, are you hearing this?” Joey interrupted the best part, but when my eyes flew opened to see deep concern saturating her stare, I straightened in my seat.
“Sorry, what was that?”
She wordlessly turned up the sound on the radio she had been listening to quietly up front, and a male news announcer's voice flooded the cab of the G-Wagon.
“They’re calling her the ‘Mutilation Mistress.’ Anonymous sources report that this woman has been targeting high-profile men in Sequoia county for over a year, forcefully castrating them with a team of mercenary killers, and then blackmailing them once released. Three victims have come forward, and local police are investigating what they are calling the most gruesome serial mutilator since Jeffrey Dahmer, although at this time, there is no confirmation that she’s actually killed any of her victims.”
A ravenous fear gripped my belly, its familiar claws holding me hostage as I listened to the radio with rapt attention.
“David Owens, recognized military hero and husband of Sandra Owens, reported his wife missing just two weeks ago. In an updated recount, he asserts that she’d called him from a truck stop north of Carlisle, claiming she’d been drugged and captured by a team of masked men, then held captive and tortured in a padded cell by a woman. Sandra had escaped her captivity and was waiting for her husband to com e meet her, but she never arrived at her destination. It is unclear if these two cases are related, but we’ve learned that this is also an active investigation. An anonymous tip from Carlisle Police indicated that the Sequoia office of the FBI will be brought in to take over from here.”
How in the ever-loving fuck was I not informed of this? I had eyes and ears everywhere; Kellan had eyes and ears everywhere. How had he missed this?
I sought Joey’s eyes in the rearview mirror once again, catching the fierce stare of solidarity. Whatever this was, we were in this together. “Get home as fast as you can.”
She gunned the engine and squeezed through impossible spaces while I frantically dialed Sammy.
“Shut everything down,” I ordered brusquely when he picked up on the second ring. “Disband the team, offload the equipment. We’re going underground for a little while.”
“On it, Ojitos .”
I hung up and called Kellan. I was sent directly to his voicemail. I dialed Aaron; after six rings, I heard his smooth tenor come through the line, his answering machine tricking me for the briefest of seconds into thinking he was on the other end. Lucky didn’t answer his phone either.
Panic seared through my guts in burning waves. Something was very wrong.
When we arrived at the condo, I raced through my private lower-level parking garage, Joey on my heels, before the agonizing elevator trip up to my floor stalled us.
A jumbled mass of thoughts tumbled through my mind at light speed. Where were they? How had the media found out about us? Had I covered my tracks enough so all leads couldn’t be traced back to me? Where were they?
I’d check their trackers as soon as I got inside my condo. I wouldn’t feel any semblance of safety until I was within the walls of my home.
Wit hdrawing my gun from my purse, I readied myself for whatever lay on the other side of the elevator door. Joey and I exchanged a solemn nod, her controlled calm a much-needed balm to my raging insides.
“Aaron?” I screeched as the door opened and I raced through my condo. Joey and I moved from room to room with our weapons raised, finding no one waiting for us in the silence of the rooms. “Lucky!?”
I stood in his empty bedroom, the faint crease of Aaron’s body on top of the duvet still an imprint in the bed clothing. I fought my body to get my breathing under control. In the last two weeks, panic had become a clinging force holding me in its clutches and tethering to my soul. I didn’t panic. I was Hillary Lane , for fuck’s sake.
“Ms. Lane, you’re going to want to see this,” Joey called, her usually stoic voice grim.
I retreated from the room and found her standing at the entry to the living room with her arms folded across her chest, as if shielding me from what lay behind her. My gaze moved past her to the room beyond.
A blueish lump nestled in pink was set on the coffee table. As I moved closer, I realized the blue was strands of cobalt hair, the lump a severed head, the pink congealed blood that had hardened to the glass.
Blackbird’s lifeless eyes stared back at me, the blank eye sockets pulling me into their terrible, barren void.
I screamed.