“It’s three days,” my dad tells him, his face void of all emotion.
“Exactly, three days. We have limited time to pull everything together. We have no idea when The Establishment will be up and running again or who else they have gotten to flip sides. We need people in the field talking to our employees. And in the meantime, we need to find a way to either neutralize or take down two of the largest crime families in north eastern America.” Matt lists all our problems again.
“And she could help,” my dad says, his arms unfolding. “If she escaped, I know where she would go. Matt, I know her, we talked about this when we were young. It might seem far-fetched, but I have to try.”
Matt shakes his head, his eyes looking up to the ceiling. “I want to find her too, Jase, but what if she isn’t there? What if that was all a ruse? And it’s a ploy to get you out?”
“I’ve been in this job as long as you, Matt. I’ll be cautious. If I don’t go though and something worse happens to her, we’ll never forgive ourselves,” my dad argues.
It’s finally registering that my dad is adamant about going after Kelly. Ever since Erika said she escaped, I knew it was going to come down to this.
He will never let her go.
I expect the old feelings of resentment and anger to come back when I think about my dad and Kelly. Only this time, I feel Lux’s hand slide into mine and I see the hopeless look on my sister’s face and the tears in Mila’s eyes. My dad’s devotion to Kelly doesn’t burn like it used to when I think about the other people I care about who would be hurt if Kelly isn’t found alive. I guess that is part of being a family, at least to me. My eyes shoot to my dad and Matt. “We can handle things for three days,” I speak up. Ciaran and Kai turn to look at me, surprise running over their faces.
“If Kelly can help us with figuring out what exactly we need to do with the Connellys and DeMuccis then I’m all about it. Face it, we need all the help we can get. Plus, she’s Rogue; we can’t just leave her behind.”
Matt’s hardened gaze meets mine, and I see the weight of the world he is holding on his shoulders. Being the head of Rogue has never been, and never will be, easy. Matt’s gaze moves from me to the guys, assessing and plotting. The man is always five steps ahead of what he lets on, which has me thinking he already thought about this scenario as well.
“Ci, Kai,” Matt says, “where are you guys at?”
“We have enough time to cover three days. With The Establishment facing heat, they won’t be recruiting or making too many waves for a while,” Ciaran lays out.
“I’m all for having more information on the families. If Kelly is alive and can help, she would be an asset to us,” Kai responds as well.
“Girls?” Matt says gruffly, turning to Saylor and Mila.
Mila tears up, yet manages to nod her head in approval. Saylor looks the most pensive, and I’m almost shocked she has taken this long to answer. Her eyes slide from Matt to my dad, or our dad. “If she isn’t there, promise you won’t try and wait. You’ll come back,” she asks him.
Dad’s eyes run over Saylor, and for the first time, I see some hesitancy in him. He looks from the girls to me and back to Saylor before nodding his head. “I will.”
“We can’t lose you too,” Saylor adds and that’s enough to have dad blinking back tears. I never thought I’d see the day my old man cried. He steps forward and hugs both girls, awkwardly, having to bend down to reach Mila.
They all take a few minutes before he pulls back and stands again. My heart races in my chest, and I swallow down a lump of emotion in my throat. This is how it should be. How it always should have been. My family. As if hearing my thoughts, Dad turns to me and takes the couple of steps across the room to pull me into him. I meet Saylor’s gaze over his shoulder and she smiles at me, small but encouraging. Our family is slowly pulling itself together.
Matt clears his throat. “Well, I guess that’s the decision then. Jase, you get exactly three days.”
My dad nods. Commotion from upstairs draws our attention and the Saffran family makes their way down. Mr. and Mrs. Saffran look like they barely slept. Oliver’s face is grim and Oaklynn is stone-cold. Her eyes blaze when they flash around the room, but she keeps silent. Nothing like the girl twenty four hours ago who was all smiles and attitude. Saylor stiffens and Kai looks like his worst nightmare has come true. I grip Lux’s hand, giving her strength and letting her know I’m here for her.
“We’re ready,” Mrs. Saffran speaks to Matt.
“You sure you want to head back to Savage for this?” Matt questions, stepping forward to take Mrs. Saffran’s luggage from her.
A small smile pulls at her lips and she looks from Matt to Jason. “It’s going to be just like old times, Matt. Besides, if Jason is going after our girl, I won’t feel right if I don’t see her before we leave.”
I relax a little, now knowing Lux will be staying with us longer than originally planned. Eventually, she will have to leave to return with the Saffrans, I know, but I’m not ready to let her go. Everything is so uncertain. My need to protect her roars through my veins. Once she is back in New York, I won’t be able to defend her. For the first time in my life, I am dreading the end of summer.
“We should get going then,” Matt says, directing us all over to the door. He takes two steps before his cell phone goes crazy, all of our own phones start beeping in sync.
“Matt,” Jason stops him, “you need to see this.”
I pull up my own phone and look to see the message is from Randy. It’s a live video feed from a news station located in a city I’m not familiar with. On the video, a large corporate building is on fire. Smoke and flames billow out the top of the building as well as the windows. The words bomb and explosives scroll across the bottom. Matt’s hands shake as he watches the video, his face turning pale
“Isn’t that…” Mrs. Saffran starts.
“The headquarters for our charity organization,” Jason finishes her sentence. “It’s where Erika runs her operations.”
My vision whites out and a searing pain in my chest hits me hard. Ciaran and Kai wear matching looks of devastation on their faces. Matt drops to his knees. Someone bombed Rogue.
The End
To be continued in #NYGirl
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Scar Sneak Peek!
Once Upon a Time…
Scarlet
Age 15
Have you ever looked into the eyes of a man right before he dies? His throat will swallow in double time, the saliva drying up, causing his mouth to try and make extra. His lips will part, usually to plead, sometimes in surprise, but more often than not, it’s to curse. The nostrils will flare out and his breathing will quicken before becoming shallow. The light will dim from his glossy orbs. His pupils will dilate as if they’re attracted to the danger standing in front of them. Attracted to me.
“You can’t be serious, Raul!” the man shouts at my father, though his eyes never leave mine. I hold my position, feet cemen
ted to the ground, arms locked out in front of me with a secure grip on the 9mm in my hands. There is a silencer on the end, but let’s be honest, with the way this guy is shouting, someone had to have heard him by now. A small part of me prays, prays that my father will look at me. That he will see the dread in my eyes and the paleness of my face. I’m fifteen. I should not be standing in front of a man, making him bow down on his knees, only to turn the weapon to his head in the end. This shouldn’t be my life.
Only my father doesn’t spare me a glance. He keeps his black, beady eyes on the man kneeling on the floor. I don’t even know this man’s name. One minute I was in a restaurant waiting for my father and the next a bag was thrown over my head, and I was led to this empty warehouse.
“Solomon, you can’t be that surprised?” My father taunts him. A sadistic smile glides across his reddened lips while his arms spread wide from his body, his suit jacket tightening from the motion. “You steal from me, I take from you, simple as that.”
“I didn’t steal anything,” the man argues in earnest. A sheen of sweat coats his skin, dripping down the front of his ruffled button-up shirt, creating a pool of dampened cloth. He looks like a lawyer or maybe an accountant, only I know my father usually doesn’t keep regular company with men in legit businesses, so he’s probably a criminal as well.
My eyes slide over him, stopping short at the gold band on his ring finger. My finger wavers over the trigger. The man, Solomon, must see something pass over my features because he suddenly sneers in my direction, spitting at my shoes.
“I wouldn’t do that if I was you.” My dad quirks his brow and clicks his tongue. “She’s known how to handle a gun since she was seven. Never misses a target.”
Solomon’s skin turns ashen. I concentrate on breathing, sucking breath in, pushing it out to calm the buzzing in my ears. My skin tingles and dances with nerves. Yes, my father taught me to hold a gun when I was seven. For years, I’ve been under his strict training on the skills of weaponry. Learning to shoot by the time I was eleven. When I was younger, I had hoped it was his way of trying to bond with me, so I never told anyone. Not my friends, not my teachers or even my other family members. I pushed myself until my aim was true, and I never wavered.
“Any last words?” my father asks, even though his words are condescending.
“I never knew you to be the type of man that let his little bitch of a daughter do his dirty work for him.” Solomon’s voice is outraged, like he can’t believe his life is hanging in my hands.
I can’t believe it either. I’m silently hoping this is a joke or just one more way for my father to test my loyalty to him. There’s no way my father would actually make me kill someone…would he? I don’t even like it when squirrels get in the way of my targets at home. My thumb itches to flick the safety and call his bluff. Of course, I know my father is a criminal. I know he has roots deep in the Mexican cartel. He’s also been the only parent in my life since I was three years old. At one point, I liked to believe he was a good man. It was rumored he used to lavish my mother in jewels and silks, and take her on trips. Everyone said he treated her like a queen, in and out of the public eye. That was before she passed away. Since then, I’ve heard the gossip, and I’ve eavesdropped at enough parties to know Raul is not a man to be crossed. He may have been soft with my mother but that was years ago. The past also doesn’t explain why I’m here now, in this position, deciding someone else’s fate.
“Do you mean the same bitch of a daughter you thought pretty enough to make an offer on? So she’s good enough to fuck, but not good enough to kill you?” Father laughs. My stomach sinks. I’m disliking this Solomon, more and more, but I still don’t want to kill him. “Pull the trigger, Mi hija.”
“Papa.” I shake my head; I can’t do this. I don’t want to be a murderer. My eyes lift to the other hired suits in the room. None of them will meet my gaze; they keep their faces averted, ignoring me. Even Jerrett, who I like to think of as my friend, mostly because he’s nineteen and closest to my age, and he also helps with my training, keeps his eyes firmly locked on my father.
“Do it,” my father repeats, moving in closer to me until I can smell his Italian cologne and the lingering scent of stale, cigar smoke. I choke, my mouth trying to swallow around the dryness. “You will do it now, mija.”
My eyes flick up and clash with his. His already dark irises are watching my every move. I don’t know what I did to deserve this. As if sensing my hesitancy, he comes to stand right next to me, his chest brushing against my extended arms. “He is not a good man. He stole from me and wanted to buy your body.”
“He’s married.” I shake my head in denial.
My father scoffs. “You think a wife and children matter to men like him? Dios mio. He’s an arms dealer. He sells illegal guns to children on the streets who fight against me. He’s a threat to our family. Dispara sin dudar, vuélale los sesos si se mueve.”
Shoot without fear. Straight between the eyes if he moves.
“Protect our family,” he urges again.
But who will protect me?
“Please,” the whimper escapes my lips without meaning to. Solomon’s eyes flash wickedly. He can see I’m not a killer. There is no blood on my hands.
Father’s head whips from me to him, a snarl twisting his lips. “DO. IT. NOW! You will do this and prove your loyalty to this family!” Spittle flies against my cheek with every angry word he yells in my face. My legs shake, my heart races, and my mind runs through every and all possibilities on how I can get out of this. He wouldn’t kill me, would he?
“Now, Scarlet. He’s a monster. He prays on children. He stole money from us. If you’re going to be part of my legacy, you will pull the fucking trigger.” Father leans in closer to me, his lips whispering against the shell of my ear, “Don’t be weak like your mother.” I flinch in response. “She wasn’t able to handle this life. You, mijita, can either join me or join your mother.”
Solomon must read the fear in my facial expression because he’s off his knees, charging toward me. Everything after that happens in slow motion. I realize I’m the only girl in this room. They think I’m weak, and compared to their body mass, I am. My father would apparently sacrifice me for my weakness while Solomon sees my goodness as a way to turn the tables in his favor. He wants me dead too. I want to live. I want to survive and that’s the last thought that crosses my mind before my finger squeezes the trigger. My arms jerk from the kickback, and I squeeze again and again until the chamber pops open.
“Let go, Lettie,” Jerrett says, his voice low and calm, as if he’s soothing a small child. His hand closes over mine, and the other rests on the barrel.
A slow clap starts off to my side, growing more intense, followed by a sharp whistle. “I knew you had it in you, mija, I guess you are my daughter after all.”
I turn my head and am disgusted when I see the gleam of pride reflecting in my father’s eyes. The closest thing to a smile his mouth ever makes, tugging at his lips. I slowly look around the room and see the same pride and acceptance from his usual hired hands. Tears burn behind my eyes and I drop my gaze to the floor. Big mistake. Solomon’s body is resting face down in a puddle of his own blood. The fabric of his jacket is blown out and pinkish clumps of tissue are scattered all around the room. My stomach churns and I fight not to heave. My hands shake. I bring them up in front of my face, only to see dried blood is streaked across them.
“What did I do?” I whisper. Only Jerrett casts me a look under his eyelashes before he’s handing the gun to my father.
“Call Animal,” my father yells to one of his guys, “tell him we need a clean-up and it’s urgent. Jerrett and Castillo, take Scarlet with you. She needs to fix herself up and pack.”
“Pack for what?” I turn toward him, his words making me uneasy.
“Training,” Father explains, his lips twitching, “I finally found use for a daughter. Solomon was willing to pay so much for your beauty. The one thing I shou
ld thank your mother for, I guess.”
His words sting. I knew he always wanted a son, yet had refused to remarry. There were rumors he was infertile after an accident and I hadn’t believed them until now. “Take her.”
Jerrett and Castillo each latch onto my arm and half-carry me around the bloody mess and gore on the floor. Once the cool evening air hits my face, I finally take a deep breath. My body shudders and jerks while my mind finally catches up. I killed someone. I’m ushered to an all-black Lincoln, waiting out back. From the outside, it looks expensive. It’s not until I see the inside that I notice the vehicle was built for war. Shatterproof glass, bomb resistant with fire proof material. In a sick way, I had always felt like a princess climbing inside one of my father’s cars. Protected. Cherished. Jerrett climbs in after me and sits across from me. I want to pretend the last few hours never happened. Guilt grows in the pit of my stomach and the urge to vomit crawls up the back of my throat.
“It would have been you if you didn’t pass his test,” he says, while keeping his eyes on Castillo, who is moving things around in the trunk.
“Why?” I ask, for the millionth time since I was first dragged out of the restaurant.
“Raul is aging. He needs a new trick up his sleeve to keep the people in line.”
“I can’t do this.” My head leans against the seat.
“If you don’t, he’ll find an excuse to kill you. Women, girls, it doesn’t matter. They’re expendable to him. You should have been a son.”
“Like I can help what gender was chosen for me,” I scoff.
“Then be the son he never had. Just do it wrapped in the shell your mother gave you.” Jerrett’s voice is sharp and heated. Our eyes connect, and for a moment, I see it. He’s scared for me. He doesn’t agree with what my father did or is planning.
#SummerGirl Page 16