If he’s the undercover cop, he’ll threaten to arrest me. If not, I’ve got a gun in the back of my jeans.

  “You’re not supposed to be here. This is a private entrance, now beat it!” The guy growls, waving his hand like he’s shooing a dog, and I take a few steps towards the street, making a mental note of his face.

  He yells louder, “Quit looking at me like that!”

  I hold up both hands like he has a gun on me. “Be cool, man. I’m just waiting for a friend.”

  “Wait on the street.”

  Nodding, I lower my hands and act like I’m headed to the top of the alley. As soon as he turns his back, however, I’m on him. Jumping on his back, I secure his thick neck in the bend of my elbow. It’s a classic sleeper hold, but he’s a fighter.

  “Fuck you,” he grunts, ramming his elbow hard into my solar plexus.

  “Oof,” I grunt, but I tighten my grip.

  He twists his body as if he’ll throw me off him, but I’ve got probably fifteen years and more cardio on him. I’m not going anywhere.

  “Get off…” He growls, turning to slam my back against the brick wall, but his energy is failing.

  “Don’t fight,” I snap through gritted teeth as we go down to one knee.

  His hands fumble in his jacket, and I turn him fast, pinning his arm to the ground with our bodies. “Oh, no you don’t.”

  He’s taking longer than I expect, and I’ve got to keep his hand away from the gun I’m sure is under his arm.

  We’re far enough down the alley that we shouldn’t attract attention. Still, the sound of footsteps running up behind me makes my heart beat faster. If it’s muscle from Gibson’s, I’m screwed.

  “Dirk Winston?” A sharp male voice calls to me.

  “Yeah.” Lucky for me, it’s my backup. “Get his gun.”

  I fall back against the wall, still holding the big guy around the neck, and a slim man with light brown hair in a khaki suit reaches in and removes a beretta.

  “Got it.”

  “That might not be all he’s carrying.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t think he’s reaching for anything now.”

  The big body collapses, and I release him with a groan, rubbing my shoulder as I stretch out my side. He got a good hit in when I first grabbed him. “That’s going to leave a bruise.”

  “I’m Jack Price. Louie said I should meet you here.” He holds out a hand, and I shake it briefly. “I have to say, I thought we were going inside the club. I’m not sure what’s happening right now.”

  “If you think we’re going to walk into Gibson’s and go straight to the room where they’re holding my brother, you’ve got another thing coming.” Kneeling beside the guy on the ground, I search his pockets.

  “But why him?”

  Finding what I’m looking for, I hold up a set of silver keys. “We’ll wait until everyone leaves, then we’ll let ourselves in.”

  “I’m not authorized to—”

  “I know, Jack. You’ve got to color inside the lines, but I don’t. I need you to take this guy downtown and detain him. Say you found him passed out in the alley, public intoxication, whatever it takes to hold him until tomorrow.”

  He hesitates a minute. “Louie said you guys have your own methods.”

  “I’m getting my brother out of this hell hole before it goes up in flames. I could use the backup, but even more, I don’t need him waking up and causing problems.”

  “Understood.”

  “Now help me get him out of here.”

  Jack and I carry the big guy to the street, where he calls for a patrol car to take him to the station. “Put him in a cell ’til he sobers up,” Jack tells the guy in the car, passing over his gun. “I recovered this from his pocket.”

  One obstacle down, I camp out in the alley to wait until everything’s quiet and hope for the best. Hurry up and wait is the mantra of this business. I thought I’d gotten out of it, but here I am, on pins and needles, pacing a dirty alley, counting down the minutes.

  When it’s finally after 3:00 a.m., I signal Jack, who leaves his post on the street to follow me down a short flight of stairs to the back entrance. It takes a few minutes to find the right key, but at last it turns, and the door loosens.

  I reach behind me to retrieve my 9mm, and Jack’s eyes widen. I hold my hand up to signal silence, and I wait at the cracked door, listening. The bar’s been closed long enough for the staff to be gone, but I’m on alert for Natasha and any of her goons. Rainey’s warning is in my head—she hired help, and there’s no telling what she has planned.

  She told Scar she was cleaning out the office before she torched the place, and the pressure is on me to get us all out of here before that happens.

  After several minutes of silence, I slip into the anteroom at the back door, Jack close behind me. The main area is dark except for track lighting around the walls and bar. Thick velvet curtains surround smaller sections in the room. They’ll absorb any sound we make, but they also provide a hiding place for anyone.

  Straining my eyes, I check the direction of the office, but no other lights are on. Is it possible they’ve already deserted the place? And if they have, does that mean the fuse has already been lit? My chest seizes at the thought. A gas leak would be the easiest way to do it.

  “Let’s move!” I hiss, dashing across the empty bar, going straight to the back room where Scar hid the small camera years ago.

  Feeling all over the dark wall, there’s no latch, only a deadbolt. Fuck. Hoping against hope, I take out the set of keys again, trying each one with shaking hands until…

  “Yes!” I yell, turning the bolt and ripping the door open.

  “Duck!” Jack grabs me by the shoulder, ripping me down to the floor seconds before Scar’s fist slams into the wood.

  “Fuck!” he yells, shaking his hand. “Dirk? Dammit, I almost knocked your head off.”

  “Punch first, questions later?” I chuckle, pulling him into a bro-hug. “Hutch?”

  “Hey, little brother.” He’s hanging back, sitting on the edge of the booth, and my stomach pitches. My oversized brother struggling to stand is something I’ve never seen.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” he shakes his dark head. “They must’ve given me a fucking horse tranquilizer.”

  “You’re big enough to warrant it.” I grab his arm. “We don’t have time to waste. If they’re planning to torch this place, it could go up any second.”

  The four of us head into the dark bar, ready to race out the side door when Scar pulls up short. “Wait. I have to check—”

  “There’s no time! This whole place could blow at any second.”

  He’s already gone, and I groan. “Help him out.” I pass Hutch to Jack and race after Scar, who’s in the small office.

  He’s leaning over an open, empty safe behind the desk. “Fuck. She did it. It’s all gone. All the papers, all the records, our phones…”

  “We’ll worry about it later.” Grabbing his arm, we’re out the door, racing across the empty bar to the alley door where I entered.

  Slamming through it, we collapse against the brick wall to catch our breaths. Jack is across from us with Hutch’s arm over his shoulder.

  “We need to keep moving.” I nudge Scar before stepping over to take my brother from our backup. “If they light the gas line, it’ll blow up the whole block.”

  Quickly, we make our way to the street, across it, and down another block, where we wait against the wall. I’m the only one with a phone, and I send a series of texts—first to Louie letting him know we’ve got the guys out, then to all three of the girls, letting them know the men are safe.

  “What now?” Jack asks, and I look at my partners.

  “What do you think?” I ask. Hutch’s brow is furrowed, and I know that look. “What?”

  “It was a setup.”

  “Yeah, it was. She confessed as much—”

  “No, I mean, all of this. They’re not going to torch Gibson’s. They weren’t even guarding us. They aren’t here.”

  A pinch in my stomach tells me he’s right. “If they aren’t here, where are they?”

  Scar’s voice takes an ominous tone. “Natasha said she wouldn’t let any of Zander’s heirs live.”

  Our eyes meet, and I straighten. “She wanted us to dispose of Rainey…”

  “But we’re all here. She made sure all of us came to this location.”

  A fist tightens over my throat as I realize the meaning of his words. She knew I was watching when she made her threat, when she showed me exactly where my brother and Scar were being held. She made the phony threat about cleaning out the office and burning it to the ground. It was all bullshit, but she knew I’d come running.

  “They’re headed to Hamiltown.” I’m in motion, ordering the plane as the words leave my lips, adrenaline surging in my veins. “They’re going back for Rainey.”

  Scar’s voice is deadly. “And my son.”

  28

  Rainey

  We’re sitting at a small, round table in the kitchen laden with slices of baked ham and pineapples on a platter, a plate of long-cut green beans, and a bowl of small, golden potatoes, and my stomach is too tight to eat.

  Hugh van Hamilton is out of town, but Norris has prepared the sisters’ favorite dishes for our dinner. I spear a small potato and put it in my mouth. It’s buttery and delicious, but my head is still spinning from everything we learned. I was always pretty sure Simon had a hand in my father’s death, but learning why… He killed his own brother to steal his inheritance. Not only that, is it possible Scar could be my brother?

  Add to all of it my fears about what Dirk could be walking into. I should’ve gone with him. He has no idea how sneaky Natasha can be—and how driven she is to get what she wants.

  “You’re so different now.” Hana smiles at me from across the table, where she’s working on large plate of everything. “You were so… I don’t know,” she waves her hand, “before, but now you’re like, umm… Oh, I know! Lara Croft!”

  That almost makes me laugh. “I’m not the tomb raider.”

  “What are you doing now, Rainey?” Blake’s low voice is smooth, and she’s as polished as she ever was.

  She eats with her knife and fork, and her dark brown hair is parted in the middle and hangs in waves behind her shoulders. She’s dressed in a tan, curve-hugging dress, and her gray eyes study me seriously. No Lara Croft references from Blake.

  She’s always been the exact opposite of her sister, whose spiral, light-blonde hair is piled on her head. Hana is playful and impulsive, and she looks like something between a waif and a fairy.

  “Up until last week, I was a student.” I say with a bitter laugh, but Hana gasps.

  “You’re the student Dirk’s seeing?” Her eyes are wide and sparkling with excitement, and heat rises in my cheeks.

  “You knew about that?”

  “I knew he was interested in one of his students, but I didn’t know who she was. Only…” Her brow furrows, and she seems to be connecting the dots. “But wait… Didn’t you already graduate from Columbia?”

  “Yeah.” My eyes drop to my plate, and I push another potato around with my fork.

  I wish Dirk had stuck around a little longer. These sisters are not going to be happy when they find out what I’ve been doing for the last several weeks.

  “Were you going back for a post-baccalaureate degree?” Only Blake would ask something like that.

  “Not exactly.” I lift my eyes to see both of theirs fixed on me, eagerly waiting for me to explain myself. “I, uh…well, Natasha sent me to get the book Andre Bertonelli stole from Simon.”

  Both sisters recoil and glance at each other. Blake places her knife and fork carefully beside her plate, but Hana asks the million-dollar question. “Are you saying you’re the person who broke into Hugh’s study?”

  “Guilty.” I try to say it in a joking way, but it falls flat.

  Blake is not amused. Her accusation is sharp. “So you’re still Natasha’s little minion.”

  “No, I’m really not.” Shaking my head, I lose the casual approach. It’s not working. “I only did it because I didn’t have a choice.”

  Blake crosses her arms. “In my experience, you always have a choice.”

  “Your experience is nothing like mine.” It sounds like a challenge, so I quickly add, “I literally didn’t have a choice, but I had a plan.”

  “Which was?”

  “I planned to come here and get the book, but I wanted to use it against them. I had hoped Dirk could help me, because he’s so good at finding things on the Internet and tracking down information.”

  “He really is.” Hana’s tone gives me courage.

  I can tell she wants to believe me, which twists the knife in my stomach. Dirk said she’s the sweetest person he knows, and I’m realizing I never knew her at all.

  “Scar caught me with the book, and he didn’t believe me at first…”

  “But he believes you now?” Blake still has her side-eye on me.

  “I don’t know about Scar, but as Dirk and I were listening, he realized I was telling the truth. Natasha has a much darker plan than getting that book. She wants to finish what Simon and Victor started. Then she wants to take over everything they left behind.”

  “What did they start?” A note of fear enters Hana’s voice, and knowing about her past, I don’t blame her for being afraid.

  I’m afraid, and I was never abused—physically.

  “The heir to the Petrovich fortune, all the land, the money, the power, was their oldest brother Zander. He was my father, and they murdered him for it.”

  “Does she want to murder you?” Hana’s eyes are wide.

  “Definitely.” I nod, not even surprised. “I don’t know why she waited so long. I guess she thought I was too weak or too stupid to figure it out, but now I know.” The tension at the table is at an all time high, and they watch me silently. “That’s not all, though. I have an older brother, who she confirmed is still alive.”

  “They want to kill him, too?” Hana whispers.

  “It’s why Dirk went to Gibson’s. To stop it from happening.”

  Hana’s slim hands fly to cover her mouth, and Blake stands from her chair, going around behind her. “Who is your brother?”

  “I don’t know for certain, but I’m pretty sure it’s Scar.”

  The back door bursts open, and we all jump out of our seats. Hana lets out a little yelp, and Blake’s arms go around her protectively.

  “Somebody get me a drink!” A woman with bright-red hair storms into the room followed by a sulky teenager.

  “Carmen!” Hana sighs, covering her face and starting to laugh. “Oh, my God, you scared the pee out of me.”

  “From what I understand, that’s one of the hazards of getting pregnant.” Carmen’s at the cabinet, taking down a glass.

  Hana waddles over to greet the frowning teen, who I sort-of recognize. “Hey, Pepper. Why the long face?”

  “Vodka,” Carmen demands, and Blake shakes her head as she turns to open a cabinet near the pantry, muttering under her breath about heart palpitations.

  “Dad decided I have to learn how to drive,” Pepper starts, and Carmen makes a loud noise as she pours a healthy glass of liquor. The girl rolls her eyes and continues. “He wanted to hire a driving instructor, but Carmen said that’s not how we do it here in Hamiltown. She said she would teach me, and she’s the worst!”

  Pepper’s voice grows louder by the end of her sentence, and Carmen lowers the glass pointing her finger. “You are the worst. I’ve never seen such a shit driver in all my life! You have no intuition, you make the most bizarre choices…”

  Hana cuts her eyes, stage-whispering to Carmen. “Harsh words, my friend. Aren’t we supposed to encourage our students?”

  “I should’ve known this was doomed from the start. You want to know what she said to me?” Carmen’s country accent injects a sense of humor, but I don’t dare laugh. “I told her to put her foot on the brake to start the car. She asked me which one is the brake!”

  “Why is that bad?” Pepper yells.

  “You don’t even know the difference between the pedals! You probably used both feet to work them.”

  “Why can’t I use both feet?”

  “Okay, time out, time out.” Blake steps between the two. “So she didn’t know the brake from the accelerator. That’s an easy fix.”

  “Uh… yeah.” Carmen takes another slug of vodka. “She drives slow as molasses in January, until it’s time to actually slow down, at which point, she speeds up!”

  “I confused the pedals!”

  “She nearly had a head-on collision with a tree!”

  Hana gasps, putting a hand over her mouth. “Oh, no, Pep!”

  “This is so dumb. I can ride a horse if I need to go anywhere.” Pepper stomps around the kitchen. “Do you know how many people are killed in car accidents every year?”

  “And I was almost one of them,” Carmen quips, the alcohol seeming to take the edge off her fury.

  Blake puts her hand on Carmen’s shoulder, her voice gentle. “Maybe you should hire a professional. At least it would save your relationship.”

  “Hana can teach me to drive.” Pepper crosses her arms hard. “She’s the only one who listens to me around here.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Pep.” Hana puts a hand on her massive baby bump. “I might go into labor, and then we’d really be in trouble.”

  Chewing my lip, I scan the group of friends before suggesting quietly, “I could try to teach you to drive. It hasn’t been that long since I learned, and I was confused by the pedals at first, too.”

  Pepper’s brown eyes land on mine, and she hops over to where I’m sitting. “Who are you?”

  “Pepper!” Carmen scolds. “Don’t be rude.”

  Pepper turns to me and mutters, “She’s always riding me.”

  “We’re actually the rude ones,” Hana jumps in. “Carmen, Pepper, this is our friend from New York, Rainey Sidorova… or actually, Petrovich?”

  “Petrovna.” I note, and she frowns. “Russian surnames are gendered. It’s confusing until you’re used to it.”