I stab my index finger toward Moe. “You think he missed? You think he didn’t put that bullet exactly where he wanted it to go?” Avoiding the artery so Moe didn’t bleed out before he woke up from whatever Bane pumped into his vein. Bane doesn’t miss, he doesn’t make mistakes. He didn’t need to shoot Moe to incapacitate him, he chose to. But he wanted Moe alive to relay a message—that Vlad Easton was here, that he can reach us from the depths of his Fulcort prison cell, whenever he wants. Just like it wasn’t a mistake that Bane’s face was caught on surveillance footage at the explosion. Dad knew we’d use our resources to tap into whatever the feds uncover. He wanted us to figure out who was behind that.
And now my father has me right where he wants me—willing to do anything to get Mercy back, including cementing myself in the Easton family drug empire that I’ve been so desperate to wash my hands of.
What were his instructions to Bane? Has he given him a free pass to hurt her if I don’t comply? From what I’ve heard, Bane isn’t the type to find pleasure in a woman’s body—whether by forcing himself or with a willing participant—but that’s a small blessing considering the kinds of things he does take pleasure in.
Caleb sighs and turns his attention to Michelle, perched on a barstool, her hands stained with Moe’s blood, a dazed look in her big blue eyes. Farley found her next to Moe, pressing a towel against his wound to stop the bleeding. Thank God she wasn’t foolish enough to call the hotel line for help. That would have made the situation a thousand times worse. “You didn’t see or hear anything?”
She shakes her head. “Just Moe’s phone ringing for a long time. That’s why I came out of my room. I must have been in the shower when that guy was here. I didn’t hear any gunshot,” she whispers hoarsely, her damp hair proof of her claim.
“So Bane let you live too, then.”
The way she shrinks away from my brother’s cold gaze, no one would ever guess they were happily swapping bodily fluids less than twenty-four hours ago. Of everyone in this room, Mercy’s best friend might have had the roughest few days, what with the feds using fraud charges against her father to manipulate her into informing on us while on this trip. Thankfully, we discovered it before she was able to give them anything useful, and now that Caleb has scared her into silence over the litany of dead bodies she witnessed last night, she’s the least of our worries. She’s just another casualty of being too close to the Eastons. I almost feel sorry for her.
But right now, I don’t give a fuck about her or a hemorrhaging Moe or anyone else. All I care about is finding Mercy.
“Does he actually think he’ll get what he wants, pulling this shit?” Caleb slips a cigarette into his mouth and lights it.
I haven’t enlightened him about Stanley’s earlier phone call and I can’t, yet. If my brother finds out our father was behind the plane blowing up, that Finn and Felix are dead because of our father’s little power game, he’ll be hiring an inmate to snap the old man’s neck before I can get a clue as to Mercy’s whereabouts.
“I’m going to Fulcort,” I announce. There’s no way to deal with our father other than face-to-face.
“You’re playing right into him, giving him what he wants—”
“What other choice do I have?” I bellow.
Caleb raises his hands in a sign of surrender. “Right. Of course, bro. Do what you gotta do. I get it.”
He doesn’t though. He doesn’t have the first damn clue.
He’s never been in love.
When I admitted that to her last night, it came as a surprise, as much to me as I assume to her. I’ve never said those words to anyone; I sure as hell have never felt them. But I know that’s what this is, without a doubt, because I can’t think past this reality that she’s gone and I don’t want to keep breathing unless I have her back.
Smoke permeates the air as Caleb puffs on his cigarette and scans the situation in our penthouse. “As much as I’d love to visit Daddy-O again, I’ll stay here and play like all is copacetic for our admirers. After last night, we can’t both take off abruptly. It’ll raise flags.”
He’s right about that, too. “Farley will come with me. The rest of them stay here.”
Farley’s head bobs once in confirmation. A throat clears somewhere in the room. We’re not used to having an audience as we work through our family issues, but the team of bodyguards, the doctor, Michelle…, none of them matter.
“Keep people the fuck out of here,” I warn.