“Where have you been?” my mother snapped at the girl.
“I had to find the broom,” she explained, sweeping the cracked frame into the center of the dustpan.
I lifted the portrait from the floor. It was a formal shot. All of our family pictures were. My mother and Seraphina were both in long gowns, despite that my sister was barely ten in the photograph. I tried to remember what I thought about the organization when I was fifteen. I knew it paid for expensive vacations and boarding school. I knew it was the reason my father was feared. It was the reason I had a security detail as a child. It was the reason I lost an uncle and a cousin.
“Here.” I handed the staffer the canvas. “You can throw this out too.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” I didn’t need the reminder. “Can you make sure Mrs. Corban gets to bed?”
She nodded. “Of course.”
“Thank you.” I stepped toward my mother, but her eyes had started to close. I kissed her on the top of the head. “Sleep well. I’ll check on you tomorrow.” I wanted to ask my sister how much she knew about the drinking. Seraphina had enough going on.
She didn’t acknowledge I had been near her. Maybe she was dreaming, or maybe she had passed out like the drunk she had become.
I headed downstairs to the study. There was a storm that had settled over the city. The rain pelted the windows.
The alert on my phone chimed. Who the hell was texting this late?
When I saw Kennedy’s name on the screen I stopped moving. I had to read the message a second time.
Now? In the middle of the night? During a storm that felt like a tropical depression?
Did she think she could summon me like one of her henchmen? I had left messages and sent texts. I’d had flowers delivered along with her favorite champagne from Marguerite’s. She had returned everything unopened, including the apology note. I never had a chance to explain the PAC. My words were always going to fall flat.
But maybe this meant she had taken the bait. She knew Crew had been in contact with me in public. I expected her to eyes all over the city, but I was impressed how quickly she received the information.
I texted my response and shoved my phone in my back pocket.
This might be the only chance I had. I grabbed the keys to one of the family cars and opened the garage door. The thunder boomed as I steered toward the Martin mansion.
The windshield wipers swished back and forth on the highest setting. I had to watch for street flooding on my drive over. A few of the roads had already been blocked off with detour warnings. The storm was only getting worse. I sat outside Kennedy’s house. I stared at the second-floor window that used to be her bedroom. I wondered if it still was. Had she taken over the master suite? Had she converted her father’s apartments into her own? Part of me found it hard to believe she still lived in the mansion. She had never liked it much.
The house was dark except for the flickering gas lamps on either side of the porch. I didn’t bring my detail with me. I was alone. If this was the moment Kennedy decided to take me out instead of call a family truce, there was nothing I could do.
I was stupid enough to take the fucking chance it wasn’t an ambush.
I pushed the driver side door open and ran into the rain. It streamed down my face. The cold droplets soaked into my shirt.
I pounded on the front door. I wasn’t surprised when Kimble opened it.
He glared at me. “Yes?”
“Kennedy is expecting me,” I explained. I wiped the water from my eyes, making a move to cross the threshold, but he blocked me.
“Wait here.”
I growled. “There’s a hurricane out here. Let me in now, Kimble.”
He let the door swing wide.
“Thanks.” I walked into the foyer.
“You need to wait. I’ll see if she’s ready for you.”
I shook the water from my hair.