Hers (Blood Ties Book 2)
Hers: Chapter 37

Don’t get killed. Sounded simple, right?

Although it didn’t feel simple. Not with what I planned to do. I climbed into the car, started the engine, and backed out of the driveway, feeling more dangerous than I’d ever felt in my life.

I took the back streets to the other side of the city, replaying the moment I’d met Halestrom’s stare. Steely dark eyes and a chiseled jaw. The man was a predator and always calculating. A machine pretending to be human.

The threat hadn’t exactly gone to plan. I assumed he’d want to do anything he could to keep his sick facility a secret. But instead of hiding behind his bribes and money, he seemed to almost dare us to expose him. After all, the Hale Order was, in his eyes, above reproach, hiding behind its prison-like structure for troubled young women.

Only that place offered no fucking counselling. It was nothing more than a front to traffic women to the elite. I licked my lips, tasting salt and pleasure, and my pulse raced at the memory of what had just happened with Ryth.

I’d almost lost her today, almost pushed her too far. The image of her standing there with that fucking look of betrayal hit me like a fist to my chest. She’d cried…because of me.

My breaths raced as I shifted my gaze to the rear-view mirror, scanning the cars behind me. I’d almost lost her…I’d almost lost her. “Fucking idiot!” I yelled, and punched the steering wheel.

That weighed heavy on my soul as I headed for Evans’ apartment on the upper west side of the city. He lived in the penthouse suite of a sleek, expensive apartment building his family owned, complete with onsite security and state-of-the-art camera systems. It’d been months since I’d been there. But before all the shit with mom and Ryth blew up, I’d spent my weekends there drinking and partying. That time felt like a lifetime ago. I winced and turned the wheel, pulled into the back entrance of his building, and switched off the ignition.

This whole thing was a goddamn mess.

I parked the car, climbed out, and strode to the entrance. Evans had been a friend, a better one than I’d deserved. He was lonely, and awkward, an heir to a fortune that weighed heavily on him, and deep down, I’d taken advantage of that, using him to replace my way into the kind of debased parties that now haunted me.

Evans had opened doors for me and introduced me to the kind of men I now wished I’d never laid eyes on. Men like Killion. Maybe it was my fault this had happened? Like I’d somehow drawn their attention to Ryth…like blood in the water enticing a pack of frenzied sharks.

The idea of that was almost too much to bear. “No. It can’t be that simple.”

I fixed my gaze on the building and stepped up to the keypad, then punched in the number Evans had programmed for me. He’d wanted me to come and go without him having to worry about security. I never thought I’d be using it for this.

He threatened me, Caleb. He threatened my fucking family.

Those words resounded as I waited for the lock to release. I pushed in, scanned the foyer, and headed for the elevator. The code was needed one more time to take me to the tenth floor where Evans’ penthouse apartment waited. Cold, empty eyes met me in the reflection of the stainless steel elevator doors as they closed.

I looked unaffected on the surface, while inside, I tore myself apart. Memories of the Order flashed in my head. The Priest’s screams as I attacked him in The Principal’s office. Images of blood and destruction followed and left me to wince and look away from the monster in the reflection.

I stepped out when the elevator came to a stop and made my way to the apartment door. I entered the code again, pushed the handle down, and walked in. The familiar scent of expensive cologne and cigars hit me in the murky amber gloom of the apartment. My steps slowed on their own the moment I saw the crime scene tape stretched across the end of the hallway, then I caught sight of the destruction in the living room.

I didn’t want to see what waited on the other side of that yellow tape, and yet I was helpless to stop myself, gravitating toward the shoved-aside sofa and smashed coffee table. Tiny glass shards crunched under my boots, and larger pieces were scattered across the floor of the room. The place was a mess.

Jesus…

I stopped at the end of the hallway, unable to will my feet to move a step more. There was blood on the sleek tile floor. The large pool was now dried to a russet brown. A dining room chair sat overturned in the middle of the floor. I knew in an instant this was where he’d died. His screams tore through my head again, playing over and over as I found remnants of zip ties on the floor.

My stomach clenched as revulsion made me brace my hand against the wall. They killed him…they fucking killed him. All because of what we’d done. And the sick thing was, I’d do it all over again in a goddamn heartbeat, even knowing what would happen. Because there was no way I’d leave her.

Not in this lifetime.

I forced myself away, stumbled to the study, and hit the light. The room brightened instantly, and I headed for the desk. There were no files on the surface. I pulled out the chair and sat.

I knew Evans, probably better than I should. We’d shared far too many damn late nights studying after stumbling into our first ethics and the law class together. And if I knew him at all, then I knew he’d have information on those who’d done this. Information I needed. I opened the drawers, pulled out the files, and found one with my name right on top.

I opened the file and splayed the contents across the desk. Black-and-white images sat on top, and underneath them was information about the men surrounding the Hale Order. Evans might have been awkward and quiet in real life, but his investigative skills outshone everything else. He’d been known in class and at the firm as ‘the geeky genius’. The person who dug up all the dirt on our opponents, giving us the edge when we’d needed it.

And it looked like he’d done that one last time.

Only this time, for me

St. James, Killion, Hale, and many others were listed in detail. Names, dates of birth, addresses, and more. My pulse jumped as I scanned the information. I rose, shoved the pages back into the file, and closed the door behind me as I left the study. But before I left, I looked at the living room again. I had one more stop before I descended on London St. James. One more nail in my coffin.

I headed out of the apartment building, climbed back into the car, and made my way to the Evanses’ estate further west of the city, then pulled up outside the towering wrought-iron gates. The house could barely be seen from the street, mostly hidden behind towering weeping willows and the sweeping driveway that led to the house. Guilt made me come here. Now that I was here, hell if I knew what to say…

I leaned out, pressed the intercom, and flinched when it was quickly answered by an icy, curt, feminine tone. “This is a private estate.”

“Mrs. Evans, it’s Caleb Banks.”

“Caleb?”

I swallowed the taste of acid in the back of my throat. “Yes, ma’am, it’s me.”

“Let me grab the gate,” she said, and a second later, the barrier opened in front of me.

I made my way to the opulent limestone house that loomed ahead and pulled up in the middle of the circular driveway. The front door opened, as I pulled up and killed the engine. You piece of shit…the words rose as I climbed out and made my way around the rear of the car, meeting Francine Evans at the base of the front steps.

She stood tall and stoic, her chin jutted high, accentuating her hawk-like features. But the defiant act was just that—an act. Her bloodshot eyes shone with fresh tears. Ones she swiped away as I closed the distance between us and wrapped my arms around her in a gentle hug.

She patted my arm with a trembling hand, not allowing herself to give into the emotion.

“I’m so sorry.” My voice was husky. “I just can’t believe this happened. One of the guys sent me a link this morning. They’re calling it a home invasion?”

I pulled away, watching her reaction. She looked away, taking a step backwards, desperate to gain some distance. Her throat muscles worked as she swallowed and spoke. “That’s what they’re saying.”

My pulse raced. “Do you think it could’ve been something else?”

She gave a shrug. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.” She was starting to close down right in front of me, wrapping her arms around her waist. “It was nice of you to come, Caleb. But you shouldn’t have worried yourself.”

“It was no worry.” Memories of my own mother hovered far too close. I wanted to ease this woman’s pain…but what could I say? It was my fault…all my fucking fault. But how was I to know?

“Thank you for coming,” she said, dismissing me. “Give my regards to your mother.”

Your mother…I winced and slowly nodded. Her grief was making her forget the fact she’d stood next to our family at the foot of my mother’s casket mere months ago. “Sure,” I murmured. “I can do that. Please, don’t hesitate to call me if I can do anything.”

“You’re very kind.” She took a step toward the house. “But we’ll be fine.”

Only she wasn’t going to be fine. I lifted my gaze to the house, knowing that inside, Gerald Evans was at that moment in his last months of life with stage four cancer, and now their only child was gone. Francine Evans was alone, alone and hidden behind the walls of this estate where one day, she too would die…still alone.

I gave in, nodded, and made my way back to the car. I climbed in and started the engine, headed back to the gate, and shifted my gaze to the file on the passenger seat beside me.

London St. James’ address was written on the first page, scribbled in Evans’ handwriting, almost like an afterthought. Was he guiding me?

I punched the address into my phone just before I pulled out of the Evanses’ driveway. St. James lived not far away…a few streets actually, although the streets looked more like the ones we lived on, and not the sprawling acreage like the one I’d just left behind. I pushed west, finally taking a left on Sunset and then a right on Rayne, slowing as I scanned the house numbers. But I didn’t need to…

Two guys stood at the back of a midnight Chrysler in front of a three-car garage. Identical twins by the looks of it, the same age as Tobias, and I knew in my gut this was the place. The trunk was open and two gym bags sat on the ground at their feet. I pulled up, parked in front of their driveway, and killed the engine.

Ryth was all I thought about. Ryth and her pain shining in her eyes. Pain I never wanted to see again. I was out of the car before I knew it and reached around to pull the gun from under my shirt as I climbed the steep rise of their driveway. “St. James, right?”

Identical gazes turned. “Who the fuck is asking?” one snarled, his gaze narrowing as I lifted the gun and pointed it point-blank at his brother’s head. Then the asshole’s gaze widened.

I jerked the gun toward the house. “Inside.”

They didn’t move. Not at first, fear freezing them to the spot. But I wasn’t messing around. We were too far gone for that. I closed the distance and pressed the muzzle against the asshole’s head. “I will pull this fucking trigger and splatter your brains all over your car.”

“Okay, man.” The other twin stepped backwards. “Whatever you say. Just take it easy.”

I herded them toward the house and glanced at the empty third parking space. The other car was a hotted-up Bronco, and there was no way in hell I saw London St. James driving anything like that. They shoved a key into the front door and stepped inside, leaving me to follow and close the door behind me. The foyer was adorned with charcoal pieces of art that looked expensive. But I wasn’t here to rob the place. Instead, I listened for movement. “Who else is home?”

“No one,” the other twin snapped. “So take whatever the fuck you want and get the hell out of here.”

They thought this was a home invasion? Did they not hear me call their damn name?

“We have money,” the idiot standing in front of me said. “There’s gotta be ten thousand in the safe. It’s all yours. We won’t even call the cops.”

“Of course you won’t.” I stepped closer, staring into his eyes. I’m not after your fucking money. Where is your father?”

His brow furrowed and slowly, realization ignited in his eyes. He looked like his father in that second. The same calculating stare, the same predatory gleam. My grip tightened around the gun. It was St. James I wanted, St. James I’d make scream. Anything to get the information I needed to save Ryth.

But I hadn’t come to kill him. No, that I was saving for Killion.

“Our father?” the asshole repeated as he glanced at the gun.

“Yes,” I snapped. “Your goddamn father.”

The other twin took a step closer and growled, “What the fuck do you want with him?”

“Let’s just say we have business,” I answered coldly, and pressed the gun harder into his brother’s head.

He held my stare, no doubt committing my face to memory as he answered. “Then I guess you’re shit out of luck, aren’t you? He’s not here.”

My breath stilled. He’s not here…‘Where is he?”

His lips curled in anger. “The same fucking place he’s always at…he’s gone to see her.”

Vivienne.

Panic thundered as those stark hallways and locked security doors filled my mind. “The Order.”

“Yeah,” the son in front of me answered. “The fucking Order.”