Page 7 of One Last Rainy Day
Tobias dips his chin in confirmation.
“I’m going to be a third-generation Marine,” Tyler declares, which is no surprise to any of us. “It’s a given, and if there’s one thing I know how to do—it’s how to build an army.”
Sean speaks up next, putting his petulant bullshit aside. “Me and Dom will cover the garage, and once it’s up and running, I’ll figure out a way to get us through the gate.” He ruffles my hair, and I slap his hand away as he finishes, “and we all know this asshole’s going to Harvard or Yale or some shit.”
“Guess that makes you the horse,” I clip to my brother.
“No, little brother,” he counters as we stare off, our tensionmuch harder to ignore due to our earlier fight. Mostly because he refuses to let me join him in France and thinks I’m blind to what he’s started in Paris. Of the company he keeps and the constant danger he’s putting himself in.
“You’re the horse,” he declares as he looks between the three of us. “As of this moment, I no longer exist.”
After hashing out a little more strategy, I join my brother, who stands a few feet from the fire.
“What about Helen?” He stares back at me with unguarded surprise.
Until minutes ago, I was his gifted teenage brother and a tool capable of getting him out of tight situations along with doing recon that helps him gain ground where he needs it. To him, I’m supposed to be satisfied with the breadcrumbs he selectively decides to feed me while he keeps me a safe distance from his overseas dealings. At this point, I’m keeping my own secrets and choosing when and how I reveal them.
My crumb of knowledge about Cecelia is minor in comparison to the extent of what I’ve made it my business to know. Like Tobias, I saw her today, an innocent, young tender, with rebellion clear in her eyes as she shoved a book down her pants to spite Roman. His instilled bigotry was apparent as he glanced around the library as if the walls were splattered with shit.
Staring back at me, Tobias speaks up in both order and warning that we aren’t going there when it comes to Roman’s familial ties, and knowing my brother, never will. “We’re leaving Helen out of it.”
***
Tyler stands next to me nearly a decade later in quiet contemplation as the party continues to bustle around us, our gazes in the direction where Sean fled with Cecelia in tow before I glance over at him. Within seconds, I see the recognition, his memory just as long and sharp as mine, his hearing...supernatural, and the highest card he has to play—which he does, regularly. He proves it as he speaks up, dread in his tone as he pinpoints it perfectly by voicing an ironic, specific warning. “Beware of Greeks bearing gifts.” He runs a palm down his jaw as he glances over at me. “Jesus Christ.Helenjust fucking landed in Triple Falls.”
Therein lies the tragedy.
Helen’s story didn’t end well for her, or anyone else for that matter.
Tobias’s warning rings sharp in my mind for the first time since that conversation because I felt the buzz start the second I locked eyes with Cecelia—and still feel it lingering. Knowing Sean’s reason for bringing her in without him trying to justify it, there’s no fucking way I’m looking this gift horse in the mouth—or anywhere else for that matter—because I know without a doubt if Cecelia has a part to play in this, it won’t end well for any of us.
“What’s your call?” Tyler prompts.
“Have everyone at the garage in twenty.”
She’s in it now, brother.
Herds of townspeople glide along the endless rows of vendor tents. Most all of them are wearing smiles, blissfully unaware that there is a war going on. That beyond some of their trees and state parks, there is a group of men fighting on their behalf so that the local economy can thrive, so the poachers don’t get the best of them.
—Cecelia,Exodus
Chapter Four
MORE SUN SEEPSthrough my closed blinds as I sip from a cup of fresh brew, focusing my blurred vision on my screen split by various camera views—two trained on Roman’s backyard, after tapping into his security server. The second—courtesy of the camera attached to the back of the truck of our lady bird in waiting—gives an ample view of the road leading to the newly discovered warehouse. The last is from the bolted camera on the roof of the warehouse. A warehouse owned by the target we’re currently running a long game on—Anthony Spencer. One of a handful of Roman’s enemies who made the first cut. Enemies who have their own empires we plan to rob and dismantle before burning them to ashes.
By eliminating our competition, we’re making fucking sure we’re the ones who get to serve Roman justice and make bank while doing it. We haven’t made our pattern to take down Roman’s adversaries apparent to him yet. Still, he’ll be clued in soon enough when a few of the moguls he has an old beef with in neighboring high-rises start disappearing one by one due to methodical design, erasing all opportunity they could have had to get to him before we do.
He’ll knowsomeone’scoming forhimsoon enough.
Frankly, I can’t fucking wait until he starts scrambling to find outwho.
Time. It’s all just a matter of time.
I argued this tactic out with my brother as a condition since he refused to let me eliminate Roman outright. My reasoning? The least we could do is fuck with him psychologically while ensuring we’re the ones who make him pay. Though Tobias resisted the idea at first, his vindictive streak won out.
Jeremy’s Fleet Heating and Air van comes into view as he flies down the gravel parking lot and lines up next to where Tyler is parked. Hopping out, he searches for and spots the camera. Clicking on his earpiece, he flips me the company mascot between each word. “Testing. Testing.”
“You’re an idiot,” I utter, unable to help my grin.
