Page 73 of The Devil's Daughter

“She’ll be fine with me,” Arturo says. “Leo will stay too.”

Leo offers a solemn nod and stands. “You guys know what you need to do. I’ve got the room covered. If anything happens, you’ll hear from me.”

Sam stands, a determined set to his jaw. “Let me help.”

“You don’t need to do that,” I say, not sure where this show of solidarity is coming from after all the animosity between us.

“Listen,” Sam says, “I know he means something to Elle, but so do the two of you. I want to make surenoneof you get hurt. It’s got nothing to do with me. Now, lead the way.”

Ben turns on his heel and starts walking toward the rotunda, Maddox and Mason on either side. Sam’s a few inches taller than me, and only slightly less imposing than either of his older brothers, so I can’t deny I’m glad he’s on my side.

I spare a passing thought to wonder what the hell happened with Marco. Of all the Santos brothers, the one who’s an actual Navy SEAL is who I’d prefer to have my back in a fight.

When we enter the rotunda, we spread out. After about thirty seconds, someone calls out, “Over here!”

The rest of us rush behind the Apollo 9 module. A smattering of dark droplets catches my eye and I bend down, dabbing my fingertip at one. The fluid smeared on my fingertips is red.

“Nothing in the gift shop or ticket booth,” Sam says, jogging back over. “They must’ve left out the front. There’s nowhere else to go.”

I stand and face the others. “There are three parking lots. If they’re taking him, they headed to one. Split up and spread out. Sam, stick with me to check the front. Ben, go with Mason to the side lot. Mad Dog, you take the back.”

I point in each direction, and the other men take off while Sam and I jog out the door, across the plaza, and toward the parking lot.

“I know this area. There aren’t that many exits to the park,” Sam says. “If I were hoping to make a quick getaway with a captive, I’d park as close to an exit as I could get.”

“Me too, but we gotta check. If they’re in the side lot, Ben and Mason will catch them.” I fucking hoped they would, anyway.

We come up empty after jogging down the lane of parked cars. The lot isn’t even half-full, so it doesn’t take long to scan for activity. When a gunshot rings out, we both sprint toward the noise.

“Take the street, it’ll be faster!” Sam yells, diverting me from a grassy expanse leading around another museum. I follow him to Presidents Way, where we both run full-tilt on the pavement toward the sounds of fighting.

The second I see the next parking lot, I charge through the trees on the verge, then pull up short and immediately crouch behind the nearest car. Karl Thomas stands in the middle of the lot about a hundred yards away, holding a bound, gagged, and unconscious Drake in a chokehold under one arm and pointing a gun at his head. Ben and Mason flank him, each one standing over the unconscious bodies of Karl’s accomplices. Ben has ditched his jacket and a dark stain spreads across his upper arm, seeping through the starched white dress shirt. Jesus, was he hit?

“You have no idea how much they offered me to off this asshole!” Karl yells. “Putting in those cameras just proved he deserves it. I’d have done it for less. This fucking rich, liberal dick fancies himself a modern-day Robin Hood—do you have any idea how insulting that is to the people whoworkfor him?”

“It’s already over,” Mason yells.

“Who paid you?” Ben calls. “Give them up and we’ll let you walk away, I promise.”

“You won’t fucking get to me before I pull the trigger. You think I didn’t make arrangements for the money in case I got caught?”

“And you trust the man you work for enough to believe he’ll pay out if you bite it?” Mason calls back. “Come on, you’re smarter than that. We’re offering you a way to live. Let Stavros go.”

Ben and Mason both remain still, making an effort not to spook Karl now that he’s cornered. He doesn’t see us, though, and when Sam nudges me and tilts his head, I peer over the trunk of the car and spy another shadow moving at a crouch in the direction of the rear lot. Mad Dog evidently came to join us, but is biding his time as well.

I redirect my attention to Karl, who turns slightly when Mason starts to work his way around. “Don’t fucking move any closer. I’m warning you!”

“It was Sitnik, wasn’t it?” Ben calls. “The Corluka gang.”

Karl utters a faint curse, gaze frantically darting between Ben and Mason. Now that he’s facing my position, I have a clear shot, but I’m too far away to risk it.

A faint birdcall echoes across the lot. Mason’s shoulders relax by a minuscule degree and a smile plays across his face.

“What the fuck?” Sam mutters, his head whipping to the other side. Two additional shadows lurk among the trees on the verge. I utter a soft curse and yank Sam back from where he’s peeking out from behind the car.

“What if he’s got backup?” I ask. “Ben and Mason are sitting ducks.”

“I don’t think it’s backup for him. That birdcall is something my brothers used to do when they played paintball,” Sam says, creeping around the side of the car again, then sprinting low to the shadows behind the next. He crouches at the rear bumper of an SUV, peeking around the side for a moment before coming back, grinning from ear to ear. “This is about to get interesting.”

---