Page 45 of Spiteful Heart

A backup plan? My brother and I exchanged glances, neither of us having no idea what he was talking about.

Sylvester checked his phone. Maddox didn’t say anything to that, but I couldn’t stand being in the dark, so I spoke up, “What backup plan? What the fuck, Sylvester?”

“I had the feeling I’d need to keep tabs on Lola. I just didn’t think it’d be for something like this…” He shook his head, and then he typed something into his phone—a message to someone, and based on the fact that he wasn’t texting any of us, I knew he hadn’t shared the entire plan with us. “The necklace I got her has a tracking device in it, like—”

“The one you had us put on Harvey’s car,” I finished, miffed that I hadn’t figured it out sooner.

“Yeah,” Sylvester admitted. “While we were all busy getting shot at, I contacted our buddy Harvey and sent him the tracking info. He’s right behind her. Looks like they took her to some house on the other side of the city.”

Shit. Had those assholes distracted us with gunfire for that long? Goddamn it. It didn’t feel like it was that long, but in the heat of the moment, time tended to pass quicker than you thought.

Sylvester glanced at each of us. “How many bodies we got?” He listened to my and Mike’s body count, and then Maddox’s. “I need to stay here, deal with them. Maddox, you’re with me. Viper, Big Mike, I’m sending you after Harvey. Who knows what he’ll encounter in that house—”

“Bullshit,” Maddox interrupted. “Fuck the bodies. We go after Lola.”

Sylvester took an aggressive step toward his brother. “Don’t you think I want to go rushing after her, too? We’ve got just short of ten bodies to clean up, and if the cops come, someone needs to be here to deal with them. Even with you and me staying, I’ll need to call in some help for the cleanup.”

Maddox quietly continued to snarl, not liking the situation, but no longer arguing with his brother.

“I’ll text you guys the address,” Sylvester said. “Now get the fuck out of here.” He got on the phone shortly after, and Mike and I didn’t stick around to find out who he was calling for help.

Mike and I hurried away, back to our car. Thankfully, our car hadn’t seen as many bullets as Sylvester’s; she’d been parked a ways away from the gunfight. As I got into the driver’s seat, my phone dinged, and I checked it. “We got the address,” I told Mike.

“Then let’s go get your girl,” my brother said, the assault rifle resting on his lap.

I didn’t know if I’d ever felt so tense in my life. So distraught. So worried about someone else. When Mike had gotten shot, yeah, that came close—but this was a different feeling. He was my brother, but Lola was my girl. You just couldn’t compare the two.

I took us through downtown, the shortest way to our destination. At such a late hour, the streets were pretty much empty, though the sidewalks downtown were anything but. Full of people drinking and clubbing, going place to place, citizens who were totally unaware of what had gone down tonight.

I think we were five minutes away when my phone rang, and I picked it up, seeing Sylvester’s name on it. I didn’t get the chance to say anything, Sylvester skipping the greeting and getting straight to business: “Harvey got her. He’s taking her to the hospital. I want you two to stay at the house, in case anyone else gets there. I want anyone associated with this killer dead tonight. I’m sending Roman and Carter your way, too.”

As much as I wanted to tell him that we would not stay in the house, that we would go to the hospital with Lola and be there for her, I also knew there was no arguing about it. And, besides that, I couldn’t fight the flood of relief that filled me when I heard that. “Understood,” I said, and then I hung up.

“Well?” Mike asked.

“Harvey got to her. He’s taking her to the hospital, but Sylvester wants us to stay at the house in case there are more. Anyone we see, he wants dead. Roman and Carter are on their way.” My grip on the steering wheel lessened, and I forced myself to let out a sigh to try to calm myself down.

Tonight had spiraled out of control. We underestimated this killer. This whole time… he wasn’t working alone. Based on the arrangement of bodies we’d discovered in the warehouse, we should’ve known.

Mike was quiet for a while. “That means she’s hurt. He wouldn’t take her to the hospital for no reason.” He turned his head toward me, the expression on his face one of consideration. “We’ll do what we need to at the house, and then we’ll head to the hospital.”

She had to be hurt. He was right about that. Still, if she was hurt, she was alive, and if there was one thing Lola was, it was a fighter. She wouldn’t go down easy; her spirit was the strongest out of all of us, I think.

The street the house was on was dark. No streetlights at all, nothing but the moon overhead. A run-down area of the city if I ever saw one. Cars sat on the street, some of them missing their rims and tires. Trash littered the sidewalks. I pulled into the short driveway of the house, and together, Mike and I got out, guns in hand.

The front door sat open. I was the first to reach it, pushing inside and lifting my purloined assault rifle, aiming it at whatever was in front of me. Mike’s back was to me, and he did the same in the opposite direction as we entered the house. All the lights were off, but we rectified that once we were sure we were alone.

I went to pull the curtains closed—though they were holey and didn’t hide much from the outside world, while Mike surveyed the area that was the living room. No couches, but there was a card table, along with a few knocked-over chairs.

And bodies. Three of them, to be exact. All slumped over, their faces stained with blood, their eyes still open. Two were shot in the head, while the third was shot in the chest. One of them had been caught from behind, while the two that had seen Harvey coming had tried to go for their weapons… too slowly, since they were dead now.

“Damn,” I whispered, appraising Harvey in a new light even though he wasn’t here. The guy could kill. Who knew?

Mike disappeared, going to check the rest of the house. “There are two more bodies in the kitchen, one near the door to the basement.” He stood in the hall, looking at me. “One guess as to where they were keeping Lola.”

I trailed after Mike, and together, we headed down into the basement. What we saw made my stomach churn, for more than one reason.

First was the chain on the floor, like he’d anticipated having Lola here for an extended period of time. No windows in the basement, and only a single light hanging from the ceiling. The chain was bolted to the floor, evidence of what had been there before Harvey had arrived. A big pool of blood sat near it, staining the concrete floor.

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