Between the continued vibration of my phone and the fact there was nothing I wanted from Cole Kensington, today there would be none of that. I took a small step back.
The pop from Noah’s firearm preceded Cole’s demise by milliseconds.
Red splattered over the plastic-covered walls. Cole Kensington crumpled much like one of those blow-up decorations people put in their yard, after someone pulled the plug. As we looked down, liquid turned his jeans dark as his bladder lost control.
“Get him out of here and find out if we can unload the Jag.” I turned back to Jaxon. “I’m going to assume you’ll be better at informing me, either directly or through Mr. Herbert or Mr. Trahan?”
Jaxon stood, nodding as his wide eyes took in Cole’s body.
This wasn’t the first dead man Jaxon had seen or even the first cold-blooded murder he’d witnessed. It was his first lesson in Ramses loyalty, one he wouldn’t soon forget and would most likely broadcast far and wide.
That was my plan.
Two of my men were dead by my hands over Boudreau’s doings. I didn’t think my message could be clearer: work with him and die.
At least I had Emma safe and could concentrate on other shit.
“Jaxon, help me,” Noah said as he tilted his head toward the body. There would be a process of wrapping the corpse in the plastic currently attached to the floor, walls, and ceiling. The body would be removed and disposed of. The room would be sanitized and new plastic would be hung. There was no good way to predict when it would be needed again.
My grandfather’s notes had discussed preparedness at some length.
I reached for my phone.
Fuck, I’d not only missed a few calls and multiple messages, but our advanced security system had been activated.
Before calling or connecting to the camera history, I read the texts from Ian.
“EMMA IS GONE.”
“I WILL FIND HER, BOSS.”
“THE KITCHEN DOOR SENSOR ACTIVATED.”
“SHE WAS IN THE CARRIAGE HOUSE.”
I hit the call button as I opened the door to the outer office. While Noah was aware of my houseguest, Jaxon Cormier wasn’t. The office beyond was empty as my call to Ian connected.
“What the hell do you meanwas? Talk to me.”Or you will fucking die.
The last part was implied.
Emma
Earlier
The man from the SUV in the garage walked out onto the sidewalk and looked both directions, most likely trying to learn what or who had activated the garage door to rise. Two more steps my direction and I’d be caught. With my body trembling, I watched him through a thick hedge of green with pink flowers. As I did, a bumblebee buzzed near one of the flowers and made a circle around my head.
My hand came to my lips as I stifled a scream.
When I looked back toward the garage, the man was gone, and by the sound reverberating through the air, the garage door was again descending.
Relief flooded my circulation as I let out my breath and dropped to my knees.
It took me a second to realize that my hiding place really wasn’t one. I was on a cobblestone pathway between two hedges in front of an iron gate. I looked through the rungs up at a large stately home—Rett’s neighbor. It was beautiful and well maintained. With three stories, a large wraparound porch, gingerbread woodwork, and balconies on the second floor, it was classic New Orleans style. I said a prayer someone was home.
With the wrought-iron gate rattling in my grasp, my only thought was getting inside and using a telephone. A flip of a latch and the old gate opened inward, the hinges creaking with each inch. Closing the gate behind me, I straightened my shoulders and walked toward the house.
As I approached the front porch, I considered my options. I could say I was a lost tourist. A quick look down at my bare feet and I realized it made that story a bit unbelievable. I moved my head from side to side as my ears strained to hear and I looked and listened for someone—anyone—from Rett’s house.