once, perhaps after the investigation grew cold, because there’s a hint of cigarette smoke in the air.
I pause at the foot of the stairs, and then hurry up them to my room.
It’s still in the catastrophic state Gabriel left it in. I turn and take the framed drawing of the awsum unicorn from the wall, stare around at the place I called home, and head downstairs with a knot in my throat.
My heart starts beating a little faster when I lift a hand to open the study door.
It’s unlocked, but that’s no surprise. I heard Gabriel moving around in the study when I was creeping out of the basement, and then he came running. Guessing there was no time for him to lock the door again.
I step inside my father’s study and stare around. It’s a mess. All the furniture’s been shifted around. Books—mostly theological encyclopedias and leather-bound bibles—have been tossed off the bookshelf and lay scattered over the floor.
How the hell am I supposed to find anything in this mess?
And then I see it. It stands out like a beacon, and I don’t understand how he couldn’t have noticed it.
There’s a large leather-bound bible still on the shelf, snuggled between two thick books. It’s white, and I already know the letters on front will be embossed in shiny gold.
My mother’s bible.
Except…it can’t be. Because I took it from her reading corner the night I left my home forever. But when I pick it up, it has the same weight. The same gold-trimmed pages.
I open the cover. There’s a letter-sized safe inside, perhaps two inches thick.
4-2-1-1
There’s a soft beep.
I go to my knees, laying the book on the carpet so I can open the little safe’s door so I can look inside.
A floorboard out in the hallway creaks.
I spin around, my heart climbing up my throat, and stare at the study door. But no one emerges from the hallway after a few ridiculously long seconds.
Jumping at ghosts. Or is it shadows?
I swear, if one of my men come in here because they think I can’t look after myself for one second…
There will be hell to pay.
I shake my head and go back to the safe. Open the door.
A stack of hundred-dollar bills. Three sturdy envelopes.
The first envelope has a small thumb drive in it. I take it out, tuck it between my breasts.
Should have brought my purse, but I guess my bra will do for now.
The second envelope has a passport and some folded papers inside.
I open the passport.
Frederick Dalton.
I frown at the passport photo.
Who the hell is—
There’s another creak, louder, right behind me. I whirl around, a hand to my chest. My cheeks flush with anger. “I told you to wait in the…”
But it’s not Reuben. It’s not Cass. It’s not Zach, or Apollo.
It’s a middle-aged woman I’ve never seen before, and she’s smiling at me.
Which is fucked up, because there’s nothing friendly about the gun she’s pointing at my face.
Chapter Thirty-One
Trinity
Scream, Trinity, scream!
But my lungs are frozen with shock. I’ve never had a gun pointed at me before—not one I was aware of anyway. It’s more chilling than I’d ever imagined. So malicious. So…impersonal.
The fact that it’s a woman holding it doesn’t matter. Her eyes are as cold and heartless as the gun’s gleaming exterior.
She’s dressed in jeans and a faded suede jacket, boots up to her knees. With her auburn hair pulled into a tight ponytail and a large handbag hanging from her shoulder, she could have been just another person walking past on the street.
Instantly forgettable.
When my lungs thaw enough for me to consider yelling out for the Brotherhood, three men walk into the study.
One has his gun aimed at me. The other two have theirs tucked in their belts.
“Get up,” the woman says.
I obey reluctantly, my mind churning with useless options. No way I can run past them. And the study only has one window—and it’s closed. Maybe if there’d been a gun in the safe…
“Shoes.” The woman holds out her free hand and clicks her fingers.
“You…want my shoes?”
It’s like there’s a swarm of bees droning in my head. The woman tilts her head, as if daring me to say no, and I quickly slip off my shoes.
“Toss them.”
I’m so fucking confused, but I throw them in front of the man wearing a black hoody. The other two are wearing dark sweaters, one with the collar of a polo shirt neatly arranged around the neckline.
Hoody picks up my shoes and tucks them under his arm.