Page 69 of Twisted Revelations

My glare met his for an explanation and found him shaking his head at me in the negative. Beverly and Laura remained silent, but their expectant gazes were also leveled on D.

“How bad is it?” D inquired as he glanced at my hunched body with a hint of pity in his gaze. I shrugged, pretending I was okay when I was ready to pass out. Sweat had pooled at the top of my forehead and my stomach was attempting to climb up my esophagus.

“This way,” he stated, taking us in the opposite direction of where we’d entered the garage. The mystery ladies leaving in the van sounded behind us. We piled into the open and waiting elevator. As soon as the door closed behind us, D entered a code, stuck in a keycard, and started talking.

“You look like shit,” he expressed, but the concern in his gaze wasn’t missed. “I called your assistant. Help is waiting upstairs. Since I didn’t know how badly you were injured, I requested level four,” D informed.

“Good,” I mumbled as more of my strength slipped.

“And the ladies helping us,” D continued, pulling our attention. “All I can say is, top-secret, agent types, overlapping missions,” he finished, aiming his head straight ahead as his voice bounced back to us.

Beverly and Laura stared at the back of his head, unaware they weren’t getting anything else out of him. On the rare occasion D was tightlipped, it meant he was on a mission or about to start one. It wasn’t uncommon for him to help us and be on an active mission of his own.

D was the only man I knew who walked on both sides of the law, with each side knowing about the other. He knew how to balance his crimes in a way that made him the quintessential Mr. Untouchable. If one of my illegal activities were discovered, they wouldn’t toss me into prison. They’d bury me under it.

My eyes flickered closed. Laura’s grip on my arm leveled me out. It occurred that neither of the ladies had suggested I should be taken to a hospital. Based on the way they’d handled themselves so far, I’d say they knew the protocol for the injured in our type of illegal situation.

My unsteady legs shook when I stepped off the elevator, but Laura had a firm grip on one of my arms, and Beverly had the other. I didn’t protest their assistance because I was one breath away from blacking out. The scent of my blood drifted up my nose, making my nostrils flare as a wave of nausea closed my eyes.

When I staggered into the room, my eyes locked with gray eyes that resembled my own. Rick, my older brother by four years and only sibling, stared back at me. Concern etched his face as his gaze fell to my bloody side.

“What are you doing here?” I whispered, not wanting my brother anywhere near the shit I did.

“Your assistant called. I was close,” he replied, shrugging. “Do you honestly think I was going to stay put, knowing you were hurt?” he questioned before he pointed to the table he’d set up.

I didn’t have the strength to argue with him. Rick knew too much as it was. He knew that my task of handling security for our family sometimes consisted of illegal activity. He also knew I was on a hunt whenever I disappeared.

He’d never questioned me about it nor had he ever passed judgment. He’d been away at college pursuing his dream of becoming a doctor when I was taken. When he’d found out what had happened to me, he’d rushed home. He’d been the one to sit with me through all of my surgeries. He’d been the only one with the strength to look at me without flinching. This was not the first time he’d been called to patch me up.

Laura and Beverly moved me along before assisting me onto the table. The worry etched in their faces wasn’t lost on me. They’d grown to care about me.

“Rick, check the ladies first. Beverly has a head injury and Laura’s shoulder may be dislocated,” I informed, pointing at them. He’d cut me out of my jacket and was working on the shirt.

When he paused midway through cutting my shirt away and glanced at the ladies, they shook their heads.

“I’m good,” Laura offered quickly, waving off my suggestion.

“I’m fine,” Beverly followed.

D turned and glanced over his shoulder at us, his laptop glowing in front of him.

“I’ll take care of the ladies,” he informed.

“You will?” they asked him in unison like they’d practiced the question. They obviously didn’t know that the military had ensured we had thorough medical training.

“Yes. But first I need to take care of Santino,” D informed, making us all forget about being injured. My brother had to place his hand on my shoulder to get me to relax.

D transferred what was on his laptop screen to the large television monitor mounted to the wall.

“Do you see the blinking red dot?” he questioned.

”Yes,” the ladies replied in unison as my head nodded. The camera D controlled panned to allow us to see the red dot inside the penthouse. The dot was Santino.

D split the images to allow us a continued view of the red dot as well as a second angled view outside the building.

“No way,” Laura stated first. Beverly’s mouth dropped open before they stood from the couch, their gazes locked on the monitor. I didn’t know if it was my weakened condition that gave me bad eyesight, but it took me a while to spot the crane’s long arm turning from the building adjacent to the building that housed Santino’s penthouse. Attached to the crane were lengths of wire ropes that were wrapped around at least a two-ton cement bolder the size of a smart car.

We waited with bated breath as D aligned the bolder to the top of Santino’s building. It hovered above where that red dot blinked, swaying with anticipation. We’d risked our lives, planned, plotted, and killed, just to get close enough to Santino to produce that red dot.

My brother paused cleaning my wounded area as he allowed the sight on the television to pull his attention. When D lifted the crane to as high as it could go, he released the huge block of cement. It fell through the sky—causing a heavy, silent death—before it crashed through the top of the building.

The impact sent an explosive boom, followed by a swish through the sky, the sounds swirling in through our cracked balcony door. The red dot flashed three more quick times before it went black. For a paused moment, sound froze.

After the long silence lifted, the sound of honking horns, revving engines, and sirens broke through the night. I could hardly wait to hear how this story would be reported on the news.

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