be closer to an answer. The knowledge needed to infringe on the system we created is hardly common.”
“If you’re right, this—Lorna and Araneae’s kidnapping—could have nothing to do with the explosions in the garage, the issues with deliveries, with any of the Sparrow or other outfits’ problems.”
“If I’m right,” Mason said, “then we could have two separate wars happening. And again, if I’m right, the enemy we’re fighting here is unlike any we’ve ever encountered.”
The front door opened inward, stilling our conversation as Sparrow stepped out onto the porch. “Get your asses in here.” He narrowed his dark gaze at both of us. “Are you going to tell me what you’re discussing?”
I looked to my brother-in-law.
“Yeah,” Mason said, lifting his chin. “We’re going to dig deeper into the security breach, and when I have something to tell you, I will.”
Sparrow walked closer to Mason, continuing until they were inches apart. “It’s my wife.” He pointed to me. “It’s his wife. And I’m fucking responsible for their safety. Sparrow is my name.”
Mason held his ground. “This isn’t a pissing contest, Sparrow. We don’t know who took the women. We don’t know what they want. So at this moment, we don’t even know what their endgame is.”
What Mason wasn’t saying was that if he was correct and this was the Order, the kidnapping might not be about Sparrow’s name or the Sparrow outfit.
“It’s a war,” Mason continued, “and no battle can be won without counterintelligence, without understanding the enemy. We all have our specialties; let us do ours.”
Sparrow didn’t respond.
Mason went on, “I’m not taking a chance on Araneae’s or Lorna’s life by underestimating who we’re up against.”
We both looked at Sparrow, awaiting his response. Underestimating was something he knew from experience not to do. He straightened his shoulders. “Dead men. That’s who we’re up against. That’s not underestimating—that’s a promise.” He took a deep breath and continued, “Garrett said the other two planes of capos have landed. Unfortunately, the bunkhouse is full of ranch hands. This ranch is crawling with people preparing for the approaching winter. Every fucking one of them needs to be questioned. What did they see, hear, or anything?”
Mason nodded. “I’ll get Seth to work out a schedule.”
Sparrow walked to the railing. “We can’t house the capos there. The bunkhouse is full with the ranch hands. Patrick is looking into finding them a place to stay that’s not a million miles away.”
“If Seth can get us some bunks...” Mason lifted his chin toward the near grouping of outbuildings. “The capos can be housed out there. It’s not as nice as the bunkhouse, but there’s a kitchen and bathrooms. Add bunks and well, it’s livable.”
Sparrow sighed. “I don’t want them this close to the house.”
“The closest hotel is over an hour away by car.”
“Talk to Seth,” Sparrow said, “and we’ll see what he can come up with.”
My gaze caught Mason’s and I nodded. “Your office?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Get settled in your and Lorna’s room upstairs, and I’ll meet you back there.”
Leaving Sparrow and Mason on the porch, I walked through the threshold of the main house thinking about the never-ending shit in our lives and probably the lives of everyone. Lorna and Araneae were missing, and we had ranch hands to question, as well as bunk beds and bedding to acquire. There would be the feat of feeding the capos while setting their assignments.
It was the mundane crap that never ended.
I stilled in the foyer and looked all around. With the early evening sun streaming through the windows, the interior was bathed in golden light, making the varying shades of wood glisten. In many ways, Mason’s home reminded me of Sparrow’s cabin in Canada, and yet it was different. Both places were rustic in design with an overabundance of wood, from the walls, to the beams, to the floors.
This house differed in size and decoration. It was grand in the way a main house should be, yet it wasn’t majestic like Sparrow’s place in Canada. Mason’s house was a home. Sparrow’s was a log cabin castle to go along with his castle in the sky. While he claimed he didn’t want the mansion where he grew up and his mother still lived, he’d recreated it in two other forms.
This home was grand and minimalistic at the same time, reflecting both Mason’s and Laurel’s personalities. It was who they were individually as well as together.
I peered toward the long staircase that led upstairs. “Get settled in your and Lorna’s room