Brutal Prince Bonus Scene (Brutal Birthright, #1.5)(74)

“Anything’s possible,” Dante says. “But we need to focus on the biggest danger first, which is Zajac.”

“It’s Tuesday,” Nero says.

“So?”

“So that means the Butcher is visiting his girlfriend.”

“Assuming he stuck to his normal schedule and isn’t taking a night off to murder our sister,” Dante says, grimly.

“Aida’s friend gave us the address,” I say. “Assuming she was telling the truth. She did drug us right after . . .”

“I’ll go to the apartment,” Dante says. “Nero, you can check Zajac’s pawn stores and chop shops. Cal—”

“I’m going to look for Castle,” I say.

I can tell Dante thinks that’s a waste of time. He glances over at Jack, his expression wary. He suspects that I sent Jack to follow Aida. He thinks I’m jealous and irrational.

He might be right.

But I can’t shake the feeling that Aida was trying to tell me something with this shoe.

“I’m going to Castle’s apartment,” I say firmly.

But then I pause, really trying to think this through. Oliver lives in a high-rise in the middle of the city. Would he kidnap Aida and take her there? One scream and his neighbors would call the cops.

“Jack, you go to his apartment,” I say, changing my mind. “I’m going to check a different place.”

“Everybody, stay in contact,” Dante says. “Keep trying to call Aida, too. As soon as someone finds her, let the others know, and we’ll all go in together.”

We all nod in agreement.

But I know right now, if I find Aida, I’m not waiting a moment for anybody else. I’m going to go in and get my wife back.

“Here, take my car,” I say to Dante, throwing him the keys. “I’ll take the Jeep.”

Dante and Nero split off, and Jack heads back to his truck. I climb up into the Jeep, smelling the familiar, feminine scent of my little sister—vanilla, lilac, lemon. And then, fainter but perfectly clear, the cinnamon spice scent of Aida herself.

I leave the city, heading south on Highway 90. I hope I’m not making a horrible mistake. The place I’m going is over an hour away. If I’m wrong, I’ll be too far away from wherever Aida actually is to help her. But I feel propelled in this direction, pulled by an invisible magnet.

Aida is calling to me.

She left me a sign.

Oliver Castle took her, I know it.

And I think I know exactly where he’s headed—the little beach house that Henry Castle just sold. The one that Oliver loved. The one that’s completely empty right now, without anyone around.





27





Aida





I wouldn’t have gotten in the fucking trunk if I knew how far Oliver was going to drive. I feel like I’ve been in here forever. Also, I drank a lot of water with lunch, and I really have to pee. Also, I’m worried about what Oliver might have done with my purse. He wasn’t stupid enough to put it in here with me, unfortunately. I’m anxious that he just chucked it out of the window or something, which means that my precious little package is already missing again.

For a long time, I can feel that we’re on the freeway – smooth, steady progress in the same direction. Eventually, we turn off and start driving slowly and erratically down roads that are obviously narrower and less well-maintained. A couple of times the car jolts hard enough that I do hit my head on the top of the trunk.

I’ve been hunting around in the dark, looking for anything useful. If there was a tire iron back here, I’d use it to brain Oliver the second he opened the trunk.

At last the car slows down. I think we’ve arrived at wherever the hell we were going. I haven’t found any weapons, but that’s not going to hold me back. I wait, crouched and ready, for Oliver to pop the trunk.

The tires crunch over gravel and roll to a stop. I hear the car door opening, and I feel the suspension lift as Oliver removes his considerable bulk from the front seat. Then I hear him walking around to the back of the car.

The trunk pops open.

Even though the sun is going down, the light is still brilliant compared to the darkness of the trunk. My eyes are dazzled. Still, I kick out with both feet, as hard as I can, right toward Oliver’s crotch.

He jumps backward, my feet barely making contact with his thigh. Those goddamned athlete reflexes.

“So predictable, Aida,” he sighs. “Always fighting.”

He grabs my foot and yanks me halfway out of the trunk. He pauses when he notices the lack of a sneaker on one foot.

“What happened to your shoe?” he says.

“How should I know?” I say. “I was busy being kidnapped and stuffed in a trunk. You better not have lost my purse, too.”

“I didn’t,” Oliver says.

He lets go of my foot and I stand up, looking around.

We’re parked in front of a little blue beach house. The water is only a hundred yards away, across smooth, cream-colored sand. The house is bracketed by thick stands of trees on both sides, but the view down to the water is clear from the back.

I’ve never been here before. Still, I know exactly where we are. Oliver talked about it all the time. It’s his family’s cabin.