Page 27 of Where the Wicked Reign

This wasn’t going to be easy.

Scratch that. It wasn’t going to be feasible.

I stared between the schematics of the building that I’d pulled up and the surveillance camera footage covering the building and the immediate area.

After several days of tracking Angelo Simone’s movements, through hacking into city surveillance cameras, traffic lights, even the security systems of businesses—basically breaking laws all over the fucking place—I’d managed to determine the closely guarded secret location where they were holding their victims who they intended toselllike they were products and not actual human beings.

A large ranch-style house in the north end of the city, right on the outskirts.

More than that, I’d been studying the patterns of their movements, the times of their changing of the guard, how many were stationed where and when, along with the rooms they were keeping the hostages.

This was clearly an important new business venture to my father, because security was tight and well-organized. There were a few blind spots when it came to the surveillance feeds, but those had been covered by the human security onsite.

There were fourteen Leone soldiers stationed there at any given time, and Angelo visited the location to check in every couple of days.

Knowing what I was up against, I’d taken the extra step of tapping into the bastard’s phone and I’d determined that they were to transport twenty out of the fifty hostages to asellerwithin a few weeks.

That would be my best shot to intervene.

But even then, I couldn’t do it alone.

I’d considered contacting Levi. He was certainly qualified to assist with something like this, and I knew I could trust his discretion too. But he was dealing with his own thing at the moment and I didn’t want to interrupt that.

I sank back against my ivory wraparound couch.

I’d find a way.

I just needed to clear my head.

I’d been going hard at it for the last few days, while preparing the design concept for the Brimbank development and coordinating with my architect, while also running my businesses.

I craned my neck, looking out through the balcony doors to see that the sun was close to rising, and I’d yet to get a wink of sleep.

I cursed to myself, then secured my laptop and shut the lid.

Rising to my feet, intending to finally get to bed so I could at least get in a couple of hours’ worth of sleep, I was pulled up short from moving another step when the power abruptly shut off.

What the hell?

I waited a few seconds, but the emergency power didn’t kick in.

I headed outside onto the balcony and peered around, noting that the lights of the buildings in the surrounding area were still on, streetlights, the whole nine.

So the blackout was localized then.

That didn’t bode well.

I rushed back inside and headed inside my bedroom, intending to reach my safe and access my Glock.

I barely got two steps inside when a rush of movement in my peripheral vision had me spinning around, adrenaline flooding my system and making me react on instinct, assuming a fighting stance.

A figure steeped in darkness blocked the doorway.

“I’m not here to hurt you.”

That rumbling, overconfident voice.

I’d know it anywhere.

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