Page 91 of Deliver us from Evil

“I’m hungry,” Apollo says.

“You ate like an hour ago,” Cass sighs.

“So?”

“Christ. Fine. And I’m guessing you want a fucking taco? Where’s the closest—”

“Take me to Maude Street,” I tell Cass.

Beside me, Rube shifts on his seat. I keep looking forward, willing him not to ask me if I’m okay.

Because I’m not.

But maybe I will be if I can finally burn my bridges.

I told the lawyer that I didn’t want the house. That she could sell it. I signed some papers setting it all up.

But I know what my men want.

And now, maybe, I can finally give it to them.

“The safe?” Apollo asks, turning in his seat and grabbing the headrest. “We’re going to look in the safe?”

“It’s probably empty by now,” Zachary says.

“Yeah, but maybe it’s not.” Apollo grins at me. “And we know the combination.”

“Do you still remember it?” Rube asks me.

Of course I do. It came back along with everything else that happened that horrific day.

4211.

The same combination that opens the basement apparently opens the safe in the study. At least, that’s what my men decided after deciphering what Gabriel said to Apollo.

I still can’t believe Apollo let him go. Then again…I still can’t believe a lot of the things that happened that day.

When we pull up to my old house on Maude Street, I almost wish I’d let Cass drive us to the nearest Mexican take-out instead. My stomach’s in knots, and I know it’ll only get worse when I’m inside.

I guess word got out about the shooting. Everyone who was home that day must have heard the gunshots. The screams. The ambulance arriving.

As we head for my house, I see a handful of For Lease and For Sale signs down the road. Even the one right across my house.

It’s sad. I lived in this house for close to a decade, and the only neighbor I knew was my babysitter, Miss Langley.

I take the house key out of my purse. I stare at it for a second before inhaling deep, putting down my purse, and turning to Rube.

“Okay,” I tell him. “I’m ready.”

He climbs out of the car and helps me step off the Range Rover’s running board.

Then all the other doors open, my men pouring out of the car and circling me like a bunch of secret service agents.

I hold up my hand. “I got this.”

“You can’t—”

I turn on Zachary. “I can’t walk five yards without adult supervision?” I ask, sugar sweet.

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