as they can. They’ve been distancing themselves for a long time. That’s why Brutus has been trying to push into new markets recently.”
“How come I didn’t know any of this?”
Antony shrugs. “You didn’t need to. We’re not planning to take back the August empire. Unless the plan has changed?”
I shake my head.
“Good. Because the Triumvirate is on a knife edge right now, and we don’t want to get into the middle of that. It’s going to be difficult enough to find this guy without raising their suspicions.”
“If he’s not in charge of the family, who’s next in command? Maybe Brutus told them—”
Antony shakes his head. I admire his confidence. He must be more powerful in the family than I realize, if he’s able to force Brutus’ silence.
“So you think Brentwood’s the shooter?”
Antony waves his phone. “That’s what we’re going to find out. Get in the car. I’ve got us an appointment with Brentwood, and he gets pissy about tardiness. I need you there to put the shits up him. Bring your loverboys too, since they want to get their hands dirty.”
Noah shoots to his feet. I raise an eyebrow in his direction, but I don’t question it. Gabriel slouches up, too. “A gangster road trip. How exciting. Where are we going?”
“Not far.” The smile on Antony’s face is born of blood and violence. “It’s time we asked Mr. Brentwood a few questions.”
We didn’t even need to drive to Brentwood’s place – it turns out he doesn’t live in Tartarus Oaks, but just around the corner on Santa Casilda Drive. He has one of those ridiculous mock Georgian houses with towering white columns and blue-painted shutters. When we pull up in Antony’s car, I see the gates are wide open.
“Is he expecting us?” I ask Antony.
“Nope. So this is interesting.” Antony drives in the gate and parks up beside an enormous marble fountain. A statue of Cupid playing his lyre with a pensive expression on his face trickles water from his upturned palm. We climb out of the car. Gabriel wrinkles his nose as he takes in the architectural monstrosity in front of us. He folds a pair of aviator sunglasses from his pocket and slaps them over his eyes.
“You a vampire?” I cock an eyebrow at him.
“I wish. I’m dying of a hangover.” Gabriel drank again last night. He runs a finger through the dark hair spilling over his shoulders. Only Gabriel Fallen could roll out of bed after drinking that much alcohol and still look so damn fine.
We ring the bell and wait. No one answers. My skin prickles, and I feel the sting of a pair of eyes on my back. I peer over my shoulder at the neighboring houses, searching for anyone watching us. My stomach twists as I think of those bullets hitting the stucco and pinging off the door as Noah fell on top of me. Was it Brentwood, or was it someone else and they’re following me right now? Will they try and finish the job?
I don’t like unknowns. There’ve been too many of them lately.
Antony tries the door handle. It’s unlocked. The door swings inward, revealing an opulent foyer bedecked in hideous gilded decor. “Okay, this is fucked. Something’s wrong.”
Noah and I exchange a glance. Antony draws his gun. I touch the knife in my sleeve. Antony glares at the boys. “You two stay out here. Keep watch.”
“No way.” Noah shoves his way inside. “We’re in this now.”
“Careful.” Antony thrusts out an arm, stopping Noah in his tracks. Noah starts to protest, but Antony points to a strip of wire stretched across the hallway about a foot off the ground. “This whole house is booby-trapped.”
“You’ve been here before?” I ask.
“I’ve done business with Brentwood in the past, on behalf of Brutus. And it’s just as well, since I’m now working with a bunch of circus animals— I said, don’t touch anything.” He glares at Gabriel, who’s reaching out to pick up one of the glass apples from a bowl on the sideboard. Gabriel jerks his hand back. “I’m not going to end up with an anvil dropped on my head just because you can’t keep the monkeys under control.”
We move down the hall, peering into the rooms on either side while Antony goes ahead and checks for more booby traps. We don’t cross the thresholds, but peer in to check each for… I don’t know what for. For some clue as to where Brentwood has gone and why his front door is open.
“He