The Peer and the Puppet (When Rivals Play, #1) (37)
This afternoon’s episode had me discreetly checking the side-view mirror. I’d found my car keys on my desk when I made it home, so I knew she had no way of following me, but Four had proven herself more than capable of surprising me at every turn. My mother warned me that one day I’d meet a girl who wasn’t afraid of a challenge. I’d laughed her off, but now more than ever, I wished she were here to tell me what to do with her little prophecy.
I forced myself to swallow the bitter pill when Wren barked, “We’re here.”
Siko and Eddie abandoned their bickering and sat up straighter. The brand-new two-story home had vinyl siding, burgundy shutters, and a freshly cut lawn. The small neighborhood was slumbering in the wee hours, but Wren cut the lights anyway and parked at the end of the street. We covered the lower half of our faces with black bandanas before jogging to our target. The cold press of the pistol in my grip was a reminder of just how wrong this could go. I just hoped Vaughn had come through because I had a plan of my own.
Siko slid into the shadows while Wren worked on the door. Within seconds, Eddie and I were following him into the darkened home, guns drawn, with only the moonlight shining through the curtains to help us see.
Wren nodded to Eddie, a silent order to take care of the slumbering couple upstairs. I was forced to stay in character as he moved quickly and silently up the stairs. Wren led us to the basement where our informant told us the coke would be stored. He tried the door, and finding it locked, tucked his gun into his waistband and set to work on the lock.
He was still working when I heard it.
The faint thump came from above. Wren didn’t seem to notice as he continued working. I figured the coast was clear until the second thump came, and his head tilted the barest amount.
I considered slamming my pistol against his skull, but I didn’t want to play my hand too soon. Wren shot up from his crouch and was headed for the stairs when a single gunshot—muffled by a silencer none of us had—filtered down from above. Heavy footsteps traveled across the upper floor at the same time we heard a second gunshot. This time, it came from outside.
The stairs creaked under heavy footfalls at the same time someone entered the house. Trapped, we only had a second, maybe two, to make a decision.
Grabbing Wren, who shook with rage, I forced him through the back door. We hopped the fences separating the yards until we reached the end of the street. The coast was clear, so we made for the car. Wren wasted no time speeding off while pounding and swearing at the steering wheel. His friends were either dead or we’d just left them to die. My money was on the former.
The trip back to Queens was silent. Most notable was the absence of Siko and Eddie’s banter.
It wasn’t supposed to go down like that. I only wanted the couple out of harm’s way, but staring down at my hands, I saw the blood on them anyway. It belonged to Siko and Eddie.
Wren seemed calm by the time we reached the compound, but I quickly learned he had merely been lying in wait. I didn’t see the blow coming, but goddamn, I felt it. Growing up, Vaughn, Jamie, and I would beat the shit out of each other as well as a few others, so I knew how to take a hit, but Wren packed a pretty powerful punch. I’d never been hit that hard. I was both pissed and in awe.
I spat out the blood while glaring back at him. He hadn’t said a word, hadn’t voiced the question, but I knew why he’d attacked. I would have done the same. “You’re still breathing because of me,” I warned. “Don’t force me to rectify that.”
“If you wanted to be a coward, that’s on you, but you should have left me.”
“To die?” I questioned incredulously.
“To help my brothers!” he roared.
“They were already dead, Harlan.”
His gaze narrowed, and I realized I’d said the wrong thing. “Why are you so sure of that?”
“None of us had silencers, so trust me…it wasn’t Siko and Eddie doing the shooting.” It was the only truth I could give him. Anything more could expose my hand in their deaths.
He was silent for a long while before turning away. The crumbling house where we’d met only a couple hours before loomed ahead in the shadows, and just when I thought I was in the clear, he threw over his shoulder, “I will never trust you…Danny Boy.”
I WAS HAVING A DREAM. A very good dream. A dream I’d never in a million years admit to having under any circumstances. Not even torture.
Sadly, my dream ended, and I was jarred awake drenched in sweat. The T-shirt I’d worn to bed was bunched around my waist, showing off my cotton panties. I blushed when I recalled in vivid detail what caused such disarray.
And then I froze when I realized I wasn’t alone.
A quick glance at the foot of my bed showed a figure in dark clothing leaning forward with his forearms casually resting on his knees. The scream that tore from my lips was silenced when the figure leaned over and calmly rested his palm over my mouth.
“My father is a light sleeper,” Ever calmly warned. “And I’m sure you don’t want to explain to your mom why I’m in your bedroom at three in the morning.” My heart continued to race even after he lifted his hand, but I didn’t scream. “Good girl.”
“Why are you here?” I hissed while scrambling to pull down the T-shirt still bunched around my waist. I lifted the comforter I must have kicked away in my sleep and covered my lower half.