Nightfall (Devil's Night #4) - Penelope Douglas Page 0,233

head twisting to the side.

His jaw flexed, and I didn’t even care she wasn’t screaming at him for what he did to her husband and the years of torture since. She hit him again and again, and I almost smiled.

He grunted after the fifth one, sucking in angry air through his teeth. “Get the bitch off me,” he finally growled to someone.

Martin hurried to grab her, and we stepped forward, but just as Christiane raised her hand to slap him again, Damon shoved Martin back, telling him, “Don’t touch her.” And then Will raced ahead, dived in, and caught Christiane by the wrist, stopping her.

My heart leaped. Will.

With his mask hooked onto his belt and his kind eyes cast down on Rika’s mother, he said, “I’ll tie him up later, and let you have some more fun, okay?”

She stared up at him, almost looking lost for a moment, but then she broke into a smile.

She turned around, the tears streaming down her face as she looked at the ground, and even though Damon, Michael, and I had so many problems with the people who raised us, not all of the parents were enemies.

Damon put his finger under her chin and pushed, forcing her to lift her eyes up.

“Chin up,” he bit out. “And stop being a mouse, You’re my mother, for Christ’s sake.”

He faced forward, but she gazed up at him, love and longing in her eyes as he took her hand and led her back to the group.

Depositing her next to Mrs. Crist, Michael’s mother took her other hand, standing in solidarity.

Evans spit out blood and then stood up straight, fixing his tie and drawing in a deep breath. “That was always the real problem with you boys,” Evans said. “No matter how smart you could be or how many occasions you proved yourselves shrewd and clever players, you ultimately always resorted to violence.” He shifted his gaze from Michael to Will, Will’s threat to tie him up still hanging in the air. “You never could keep your attention focused on the long game, could you? Friends and girls were more important, and the immediate gratification was what mattered most, when you should’ve always realized that you could trust no one. Crists don’t build.” He looked to Michael. “We win.”

And they were going to win, too. We were vastly outnumbered. Evans and Martin could ship us all to Blackchurch tonight.

“Take your grandfather, for example,” he told Will. “No grudges, because we’re not friends. We gain more this way. Together, we bought time to delay your resort project.”

“His grandfather?” Kai repeated.

And just then, a puff of smoke drifted into the air, and we all looked through the cops to see Senator Grayson pushing off a ticket booth and strolling forward as he smoked a cigar.

I locked my jaw.

He wore a black, three-piece suit with a light blue shirt and the gold chain of a pocket watch draped over his vest.

I’d actually never seen him in real life before, which wasn’t a feat, since he lived in D.C. almost around the clock for the past twenty years.

But I recognized him immediately.

He stopped behind Evans, drawing a puff off his cigar again, his cool expression unfazed.

Shit. I glanced to Will at my side, the stoic look on his face making me more nervous. If William Grayson, Sr. was here, in person, this was bad.

We were all going to Blackchurch.

Or worse.

“You two?” Michael asked, realization dawning.

“Old timers…” Damon stepped forward. “You’ll be dead before we will. Step down with dignity.”

“Calm down,” Kai grit out.

“Fuck calm,” he barked. “I got rid of my parents, now they both do their part. Step up and deal with this, or else I’m ready to go Children of the Corn on this town.”

I walked toward Senator Grayson a few steps. “You put Will in Blackchurch?”

“Mmm…”

My stomach coiled tightly as Evans grinned. I could see where Michael got his smile.

They were a team? They got rid of Will together?

“You bastards,” Michael said.

Evans glanced over his shoulder at the senator. “You’ve been called worse.”

“I have,” he joked.

“I’m glad you came to me when you did,” Evans said, turning back around, but still speaking to Senator Grayson. “I’m glad we could help each other.”

“Me, too,” Mr. Grayson said. “I learned a great deal.”

“He’s your grandson,” I argued. “Why?”

The senator looked past me to Will. “He knows why.”

I felt Will approach my side, he and his grandfather locked in a stare. “Because I liked my parties,” Will said.

Mr. Grayson nodded. “You lack