“Now you and your brothers possess this vast volume of inflammatory data.” Dear God. The Dunmores had dozens, maybe hundreds of enemies.

  “Here’s the thing. We don’t. While all three of us certainly know of some illegal activities that likely occurred within the rooms of the club, we never gathered evidence of any kind. That wasn’t our objective. Well, that wasn’t my brother’s objective. Michael made the original determination to reopen the club after my parents were killed, but he was determined we would run a clean operation.”

  “Killed or murdered?”

  “That jury is out,” he muttered.

  “Yet you have what your father gave you?”

  When he shook his head, a cold shiver trickled down my back.

  “But the same people who were involved with the club before or even new members are certain that you do.”

  “Yes,” he said as he locked eyes with mine. “Which is why I can’t keep you safe. It would seem that my father developed an inner circle of men to make determinations of who should live or die, be cast out or God knows what else. We never learned who this inner circle was, but I am guessing one or all of them were responsible for my parents going off the road on one rainy night.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  “God has nothing to do with this. My grandfather and father sold their souls to the devil a long time ago.”

  “That doesn’t mean you have to,” I insisted. “Why don’t you and your brothers make a decision to close the club? Maybe your father wanted you to move on, to have a different life.”

  “No, he wanted the three sons to walk in his shoes, but he knew in order to drag us to our own depths of darkness that we’d have to want to do so. We’d be required to find the ledgers, which would mean we were truly prepared to take over the club and all the ramifications and power around it. He knew if the three of us accepted our roles, nothing would stop us from becoming the most powerful force up and down the East Coast.” He laughed again, shaking his head as he closed his eyes.

  “Is that what you want? All the power and money in the world even if you have to hire bodyguards or enjoy killing people?”

  Christopher didn’t answer right away, his eyes glassing over. “No, Willow. You helped me realize that things mean nothing at all to me. Nothing. You and Baxter have become my life. If I could, I’d leave this all behind.”

  “Then do it.”

  He seemed to think about my words before pulling me down once again. “If only it was that simple.”

  As his cell phone rang, I shuddered, trying to keep a moan from erupting from the very depths of my being. While a part of me chided myself for caring about a man who could easily become a killer if necessary, another part of me wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.

  Allowing him to become the man he’d always been meant to be.

  “Aren’t you going to get that?” I asked, hearing the angst in my voice.

  “As I said, I have everything I need right here in this room. Close your eyes and dream of anywhere in the world you’d like to go.”

  “It doesn’t matter where it is, Christopher, as long as you’re with me.”

  He tensed all over again, his breath skipping. “I will be. Somehow, I’ll find a way.”

  As I closed my eyes, a flurry of visions rolled into my mind’s eye, fear clamping around my throat. Something horrible was about to happen, something that would forever change my world.

  As well as break my heart.

  What I wasn’t certain of was whether I’d lose the man I loved to the dark side of power or to his enemies.

  Either way, I was going to lose him.

  Chapter 13

  Christopher

  “What do you want for your birthday, son?”

  “A puppy!”

  My father looked down, his expression one of disapproval. “I already told you that you can’t have any live animals. They will only die on you one day. Besides, you need to put all your emphasis on your schoolwork. You are going to be the most powerful one of all when you take over Club Darkness. You have no time for ugly creatures in your life.”

  “What the hell did you do?”

  I heard the demand in my father’s voice as he stormed into the room, glaring down at the stray I’d found and brought home with me. There was such disgust and anger in his eyes.

  “I’m going to take care of him. He doesn’t have a home. I’m doing all my schoolwork. I deserve a puppy. This is my decision, Pops, and there is nothing you can do about it.” It was the first time I’d stood up to my father, remembering two years before when he’d denied my request.

  He hissed. “That’s not going to happen.”

  Woof! Woof! Woof!

  What the hell?

  I swam up from the series of dreams, trying to understand what I was hearing. My chest was heavy, my eyes refusing to open. I tried to take a deep breath, coughing after doing so.

  Woof!

  Wait a minute. The dog. The growls were coming from Baxter but where?

  Woof! Woof!

  In a flash, the pup jumped on my chest, grabbing a portion of my robe with his teeth.

  “Buddy, what’s going on?” I took a deep whiff then realized what the hell was going on. My eyes were burning as I tried to get used to the darkness. I reached for Willow, still struggling to make sense of what the hell was going on. “Willow. Wake up. Wake up, honey.” Fuck. She was deep asleep.

  I jerked up, able to catch a horrifying whiff of smoke. There were little more than embers in the fireplace, the darkness oppressive. But there was no doubt the house was on fire.

  “You’ve got to wake up, Willow. Now.”

  “What’s… What’s happening?” she struggled to say, almost immediately starting to cough.

  “We have to get out of here. The house is on fire.” A taste of acid remained in my throat, my heart thudding as I tried to breathe.

  “Oh, God.” She fought to get up, slamming her hand against one of the wineglasses.

  Baxter continued to bark, his pitiful sounds cutting through what had to be breaking glass. Jesus fucking Christ. Within seconds, I heard a whooshing sound as smoke rolled into the room. Willow continued to cough as she clung to me.

  One of the massive windows behind us cracked, the sound something I would never forget. I snapped my head in the direction, able to see flames coming down from up above.

  “We’re getting out of here.” I reached for the phone on the table, snagging it before wrapping my arm around her waist. “Baxter, come. Come!” As I tried to guide us out of the room, several cracking sounds occurred all around us. Within seconds, a portion of the ceiling caved in, flames licking down the walls, drips of what had to be metal showering down from the second floor.

  My God. How the hell had the fire gotten so far along or so damn hot?

  Unless it was purposely set.

  “Christo… pher…” she huffed, coughing to the point of wheezing.

  Flames crawled within seconds toward one of the windows, blocking two of our three ways out. The only chance we had was to try to make it to the front door.

  Come on, baby. Come on.

  “Baxter,” I hissed, almost stumbling as I reached for the dog.

  The smoke became thicker as I struggled to head toward the doorway leading to the foyer. The hint of cool air was welcoming, providing hope we might have a chance to get through the front door.

  Woof!

  I struggled with the locks, finally managing to throw open the door. As the three of us tumbled outside, all hell seemed to break loose, the entire back of the house engulfed in flames.

  “Oh. What…” Willow clawed at my shirt as we stood in the driveway, her entire body shaking.

  “Motherfucker,” I managed, my heart racing as I gulped for air. I shielded her body, pulling her against me as I backed us further away, my rage increasing to the point I had difficulty seeing. There was no doubt the fire had been set. None.

  Woof. Woof. Woof. Gggrrr…

  “It’s okay, Baxter. We’re going to be just fine,” I railed, struggling to yank my phone from the pocket of my robe.

  “What the hell happened?” Willow yelped as she pushed away from me, crouching down and hugging Baxter.

  “I’m not sure, but I’m going to find out.” As I was prepared to dial 9-1-1, I noticed a text from Michael.

  What the hell?

  Going over the will and other information from our parents’ estate.

  What was he getting at? Wait a minute, the will. A rush of occurrences flashed into the forefront of my mind. Oh, fuck me. It couldn’t be that simple. My thoughts drifted to what Aleksandr had said. Right under our noses. I glanced at the house, studying the way the flames licked up over the backside of the roof. I sucked in my breath, making what could be the most foolish decision of my life.

  I handed her the phone. “Call 9-1-1. There’s something I have to retrieve.”

  “Are you out of your fucking mind? No. You’re not going in there.” She grabbed my arm, giving a solid yank.

  “Trust me. One minute. It’s vital. More than you’ll ever know.”

  “No. No. No!”

  She called after me as I yanked a portion of the robe over my face, heading back inside. The damn piece of art was on the table just inside the living room. Why hadn’t I thought of it before? I felt my way, holding my breath until I reached the room. Within seconds, I’d snagged the ugly piece. Everything seemed to be in slow motion and for a few seconds, I turned to stare at the vibrant blue hue of the fire as it crawled over the ceiling.

  I was almost mesmerized, the same way I had been seeing the horrific pictures of my parents’ vehicle as taken by a bystander, the expensive Mercedes engulfed in flames. The coincidence was far too much to handle, my mind a blur.

  “I’m sorry, son, but your parents died in an accident,” the officer said as he studied me intently.

  “What do you mean an accident?” I demanded. When the officer looked at my older brother, I stormed closer. “Tell me. What happened to my parents?”

  “It’s okay, Chris. We’re going to be just fine,” Michael said as he pulled me away. “Somehow.”

  “Christopher. Christopher!”

  Willow’s screams were far too close, her sobs dragging me out of my trance-like state. I stumbled forward, clutching the damn piece of art until I was able to see her face highlighted by the moonlight even as smoke swirled around her.

  “Where’s Baxter?” she demanded.

  “What?”

  “He went in to look for you. I couldn’t stop him. You have to save him!”

  Another wave of slow motion hit as I dropped the sculpture, turning abruptly. I could hear sirens in the distance as well as another eruption of glass breaking. “Baxter. Come on, boy. Come to me.”

  The smoke became thick, cutting off my air supply. I dropped onto all fours, trying to crawl forward. “Come. Bax…” A wave of coughing overtook me, my eyes burning.

  The single muffled woof drew my attention. I was drawn by what had to be headlights coming from her car, the dim beams only highlighting the thickness of the smoke. I crawled forward, already starting to become disoriented.

  Every sound became amplified.

  The cracking of wooden timbers.

  The sirens as they approached.

  The blow-out of yet another pane of glass.

  Yet Baxter’s barks remained muffled. Then there was a sharp cry, the sound woeful.

  “Baxter.” A rush of adrenaline pulsed into my system enabling me to lunge forward. Every step was labored, every muscle and bone in my body aching as I struggled to breathe.

  Pitching forward, I fell on my face, reaching out in front of me. I felt a paw. Fur.

  Sirens.

  A blast of a horn.

  The shouts of men.

  The strangled sounds as the dog continued to suffer.

  Then another cracking sound. Using what strength I had left, I jerked to my feet, lunging forward once again until I felt him beneath me. Baxter…

  Then I heard a cry. Her cry.

  “Please help me. Please help the man I love. He’s inside with our dog.”

  “No!”

  Jerking up, I gasped for air, fighting whatever was holding me down.

  “Whoa. Slow down there, brother.”

  I blinked, struggling to focus, my eyes burning and watering. I felt a hand on my shoulder, forceful enough I tried to concentrate. Finally, enough of the area in front of me came into view.

  A hospital.

  I was in the hospital.

  “What… happened?”

  “It would appear your house burned down,” Gregory said in a low voice.

  “You went in to save a dog,” Michael added with scorn in his tone.

  I tried to remember the events, images floating in front of my face. “Willow. Where is Willow?” I managed as I yanked at the tubes in my nostrils, jerking them away.

  “Fuck, buddy. You almost died.” Gregory tried to stop me as I fought to get to the edge of the bed, hissing when my legs weren’t moving fast enough.

  “Where… is… she?” A cough erupted from my gut, forcing me to double over.

  The beeping of the machines was annoying as hell.

  “She just left fifteen minutes ago.”

  I shifted my gaze toward Michael, who stood by the window. “She’s…”

  “She’s fine,” Gregory answered. “You need to rest.”

  “Baxter?”

  “The dog is going to be okay, brother. As Gregory said, you need your damn rest.”

  I couldn’t understand Michael’s answer, but I didn’t give a shit. I had to see her. I had to know that she was all right.

  Gregory moved so I could see him. “The dog has smoke inhalation and from what the paramedics said, a broken leg. Could have been a lot worse. You also could have died trying to save him.”

  “Not… him.” I choked again and winced as a nurse rushed inside.

  “You can’t do that, Mr. Dunmore. You need oxygen,” the nurse admonished as she gently pushed me back onto the bed, checking my vitals before replacing the damn nose piece. “If you don’t remain quiet and rest, your visitors are going to have to leave. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  She gave Gregory and Michael a harsh look before walking out.

  I sat up again, refusing to lie in some freaking hospital bed while some asshole was out there. “She’s not… safe.”

  “It would appear none of us are,” Michael said as he finally turned around. “What do you mean not him?”

  I coughed again, trying to catch my breath as I thought about the freaking piece of art. “I got… your message.”

  His eyes opened wide. “Meaning what?”

  “Something from… our father.”

  “What are you talking about?” Gregory asked.

  “You mentioned the will in your text,” I said slowly before reaching for the water, calming my breathing, another round of coughing almost making me gag. “Going over the will. Remember the piece of art?”

  Gregory narrowed his eyes while Michael opened his even wider.

  “Oh, it couldn’t be that freaking simple,” Michael whispered.

  “What are you two talking about?”

  “I called Christopher first, but I was forced to leave a message. I was going back over the will and all the estate papers, trying to see if I was missing anything.” Michael seemed exasperated. “Then I texted him just as a thought. The gifts our father left.”

  “Yeah, so?” Gregory looked from one to the other of us before cluing in. “The items that were willed to us directly. Is that what you’re talking about?”

  Three gifts from our father willed specifically to each one of us, none of them anything more than something he’d had in his office.

  “Yes. There has… to be… something inside them.” I hated the raspy sound of my voice, the burn that still remained. “I’m getting out… of here. The fucking piece is still at the house.”

  “You’re doing no such thing. Like the nurse said, you need your rest.” Michael’s words seemed terse and the way he looked at Gregory, I knew he was holding something back.

  “What?” I demanded.

  They shot each other another look.

  “There was also another murder last night.” He hesitated before finishing. “The police chief. He was killed in a similar fashion, attacked in his garage after arriving home from work.”

  “That leaves… Gasini.” I closed my eyes, trying to see Willow’s face in my mind. Thank God she was all right. I’d almost been the reason for her death. I was sick inside, realizing that I couldn’t do this to her any longer, at least not until the puzzle was finished. “He has to be… concerned.”

  “Hell, yeah. Word on the street is that Roberto Gasini is under twenty-four-hour protection, although no one is saying why of course.” Gregory sighed. “Maybe I need to go and have a chat with him.”

  “Gasini didn’t do it,” I countered.

  Nodding, Michael moved back toward the window. “Our brother is right. However, whoever torched your house did so out of retribution. My guess would be Aleksandr.”

  “Or Parker Reynolds,” Gregory added.

  “No. The sixth player.”

  “Either way, this freaking game is getting far too dangerous. I’ll check the grandfather clock our father left me when I get back to the house, but don’t expect it’s going to be that easy,” Michael muttered under his breath. “You’re going to rest. I brought you some clothes, but you are not leaving here.”

  Gregory growled. “Damn it. Besides, you’re not going to find anything, Chris. The house is a total loss. You’re lucky you got out alive.”

  “I’ve already talked to the police about Parker Reynolds. They’re checking on his whereabouts last night when the fire occurred. From what little the police investigator told me, it would appear that it’s arson, and in truth, not handled by a professional. Unless that’s what the arsonist wanted.”

  “You need to get Autumn and Sophia to a safe place,” I managed to say.