Me: Have you seen that girl anymore? What was her name again? Lori?
Ty: Landry. And no. I didn’t get her number and I haven’t had the balls to ask her dad for it.
Me: I could probably find it for you.
Ty: You know people?
Me: Dude. I’m not the mafia. But I did fuck one of Croft’s assistants. I could get it for you.
I really hope Croft’s assistants are females, otherwise this lie will get awkward kind of fast.
Ty: The hot redhead or the older lady? You totally nailed the cougar, didn’t you?
Me: A gentleman never kisses and tells.
Ty: You’re not a gentleman. You’re a dick.
I’m distracted from my phone when we pass by the building Bryant tasked me with torching. It took some effort, but the end result was a fuck-ton of firetrucks and a total loss. They still can’t tell it was arson, according to Bryant’s intel, and they sure as hell haven’t linked me or him to it. Arson isn’t usually my gig, but he did get me information I needed.
Ash.
Winston keeps her safely at the Constantine Compound most of the time. They attend events that Morellis aren’t invited to. Me and my brothers aren’t invited to anything where Ash might show.
My phone buzzes again.
Ty: You’re such a prick for making me beg. Please get me Landry’s number.
I glance over at Sparrow who’s pissed as hell over the fact Sully kissed her. And I could bet money that Sully would be more than pissed if he knew Sparrow got her off over the phone. I wonder how angry they’ll be when they find out I’ve given Ty her number just to fuck with them.
They’re obsessed with this girl just like they both were with Ivy Anderson. I didn’t like Ivy all that much, but when you’re fourteen, you don’t turn down the chance to get laid by a cheerleader. I sure as hell didn’t.
But Ash?
She was different for me.
I hated her and her father for joining our family. They were an infection that got to my mother and ultimately got her severed from us.
I wanted Ash to pay.
I wanted to hurt her. I did hurt her.
Eventually, I would have broken her completely.
Winston Constantine ruined everything.
All I want is the opportunity to get Ash in my grasp once more. To stare down at her, watching her wither and wilt like a dying flower.
It won’t be childish games like last time.
I shoot Ty the number. When I realized Sparrow had been talking to her earlier, I texted Bryant to also get her number. I felt like it was useful to have. You never know when you need information like that.
Ty: You amaze me, man. Seriously. Thanks!
Me: Good luck getting past Daddy Croft…
Ty: Right?!
He sends me some dumb emojis of a bicep flexed. Idiot.
Sparrow mashes the button on his stereo, silencing the vehicle. The clink, clink, clink of his blinker is almost comical. Since when does he use a fucking blinker? Not to mention, he’s been blowing through most red lights and going well over the speed limit whenever there are less traffic-congested areas.
We pull into a parking garage—one I know well now. It’s Croft’s office building. Sparrow pulls the ball cap lower over his brow and creeps into the parking garage. Since there are other businesses in the building—a couple restaurants, some shops, and even some residential units—it’s hard as shit to find a parking spot. Eventually, we get lucky and find a spot that someone is exiting.
“What now?” Sully asks, leaning forward between the front seats.
“We wait.” Sparrow goes to turn back on the music, but Sully smacks at his hand. “What the fuck?”
Sully growls right back. “What’s the plan? How long do we have to wait here?”
“We’re not going to wait here,” I tell them. My brothers are not the mastermind. Their intentions are good but without me, they’d be waiting forever. “We’re going to go find his car and hide nearby.”
“And then what?” Sully demands.
I reach beneath the seat and pull out my Glock. “Then we teach him a lesson.”
“Woah. Dude, no. We’re not fucking killing him,” Sparrow exclaims. “Fuck him up, yes, but not shoot his ass. Put the gun away, psycho.”
“Fine,” I say with a smirk, shoving it back under the seat. “I guess those guns will have to do.” Sparrow grunts when I flick his bicep. “Let’s go.”
We slip out of Sparrow’s death machine and stick to the shadows. Our ball caps and hoodies, all in black, will make it impossible for the cameras to pick out who we are. Several flights of stairs later, we make it to the floor Alexander parks on. His midnight-blue Bugatti is parked at an angle, taking up two spots.
“I fucking hate this guy,” Sparrow spits out.
“You and me both.” Sully crouches into a shadowed area near the car.
Me and Sparrow find our own hiding spots. It reminds me of when we were toddlers. We’d hide and Mom would seek after us. I fucking miss her.