“You’ll what, tell Dad?” Travis snorted as our eyes fastened on the argument in progress between Morgan and the big-ass biker dude. They started inside, the man roaring at her the entire way. I squinted at the back of his vest, catching the letters BIN on the back of his vest. He turned, eyes scanning the street before I could make out the rest of the letters. “Damn,” I hissed, ignoring the bickering between Travis and his older brother over the phone.
Reaching over, I hit the end button for the second time, cutting off Mitch’s rant.
I eyeballed Travis. “I’ll take the front, you take the back.”
Travis narrowed his eyes. “I’ll take the front, you take the back.”
“Fuck you, Trav,” I declared, both of us knowing the front would be more dangerous. “I called it. It’s mine.” He opened his mouth to argue and I knew exactly how to shut it. “You’ve got a little boy who needs you.”
Knowing I had him, I swallowed around the huge lump in my throat and held up a fist. “Let’s do this.”
He met my eyes as he bumped it with his. Then he grinned, his smile feral. “Let’s do this.”
We got out of the car and I popped the boot. Travis reached in, lifting the false flooring to reveal an entire arsenal. As he handed over a bulletproof vest, I strapped it on quickly. While Travis did his, I allowed myself the luxury of thinking about Grace for a brief moment, of her scent and her laugh, of the wild abandon on her face whenever I fucked her hard, of how much I adored every single hair on her head. My chest tightened and my hands shook. She could be just metres away right now, breathing in the same air, hurt, scared, bleeding out.
“Hey,” Travis muttered, eyeing me. “You with me?”
“A hundred per cent,” I told him, willing it to be true.
“Okay, then.”
We both tucked a spare handgun in the back of our jeans, keeping one each in our hands. My breath puffed in and out as we approached the house. The air was cooler near the Blue Mountains, seeping into your bones. I shivered. I hated the cold. It reminded me of hiding in the yard when my father was in one of his rages. Sometimes I would fall asleep, my body pressed up between the fence and the tall eucalypt tree that always smelled good in the summer. When I eventually woke, my fingers and toes would be numb from the frost.
We reached the house and I wiped my mind of the memories. Travis peeled off, heading around the back while I approached the front screen door. It was one of those old kinds. The one that was there simply as a flyscreen, not a security screen. The hinges were flaking with paint and thick with rust, telling me that if I jerked too quickly, they would protest loud and clear.
Surprisingly, it was unlocked, making me pause. They couldn’t have seen us coming. Maybe it was missed during the argument the two were having as they headed inside?
With a slowness that made me itchy, I eased the door open, gun cocked and ready, and stepped inside the house.
A quick scan in front of me gave nothing. I took another two steps, opening up the living room to my gaze, and my heart punched to my throat. Grace was bound to a chair. Silver duct tape held her arms and legs in place and a single strip covered her mouth. Her eyes filled the second I appeared.
I ran my eyes over her as I took another cautious step. Her hair was a wild tangle, dirt smudged her cheek, and dried blood covered her arms and dress. I couldn’t remember ever seeing anything more beautiful in my entire life. I dragged air into my lungs, suddenly realising I hadn’t taken a full breath since last night. “Grace, baby? Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, trying to speak behind the tape. I took another step and that’s when Morgan appeared to Grace’s left. With a smirk on her lips, she held up a gun in her hand and jammed it against Grace’s temple. Raw fear flashed across Grace’s face and it took everything I had to hold myself in check and not flinch.
“She’s not hurt yet, but that can be arranged,” Morgan told me.
My finger caressed the trigger of my own gun. “Put it down and step away from Grace, Morgan.”
Grace’s eyes went wide over my shoulder and she started screaming from behind the tape. Before I could turn, I felt the cool butt of a gun press against the back of my head.
“You first, Casey,” said the voice from behind me.
My arms went slack and for a second I allowed my eyes to close. I knew that voice. It might have roughened over the years, but I knew it. It wasn’t just the same voice as mine, it was the voice of my brother.
I swallowed hard and opened my eyes, focusing on Grace in front of me. She was blurred and I realised it was because my eyes were burning with tears.