Page 77 of Along for the Ride

“I’m just saying. She needs to learn to be a little selfish if she wants to be with us.”

I know they’re right, but it still conflicts with my humanity. I can’t help that it feels wrong. Even so, I don’t want to lose them, because being with them is the only thing that feels right in our fucked-up little world.

“Let’s just get some sleep,” Gentry says. He turns on his side and pulls me into him. “We have to do this hit, and we need clear heads when it goes down.”

Sleep might clear my head, but it won’t do shit for the smog surrounding my heart.

ChapterThirty-Two

Gentry

We sleep until nightfall can safely conceal us from prying eyes, then we drive toward our final target. We park near the woods and conceal the SUV behind some heavy scrub. We left Sam back at the motel, but I almost wish we’d brought him now. He’s an extra weapon we might need.

I get out of the car and open Leana’s door. “I need you to wait—”

She silences me with the glare from hell.

“Will you let me finish? You need to wait outside the door when we get to the building. Let us get the lay of the land, then you can walk in like you always do.”

“You still want to keep me from seeing parts of you.” She shakes her head. “I’ve seen you shove a disembodied hand up another man’s ass. There isn’t much more to see.”

Good point.

I ease away from her door and let her out.

I expect a heavy security detail, but we walk through the woods without any issues. We spot what appears to be a security box tucked away behind a huge marble pillar, but it’s empty. I shake my head. The point of security is for them to be present. Obvious. Not hidden behind rich ass marble.

“There’s a fucking pond,” Karson says as we cross the expansive lawn behind Ralph’s gloriously excessive mansion. He squats down, his finger hovering above the water. A massive koi surfaces, its mouth gaping at him. “And there’s a big ass fish.” He scoffs. “So dramatic.”

“Will you stop fucking around?” I snarl.

“You know,” Karson says as he matches my step, “I saw our last murder on the news at the motel.”

“Fuck,” I curse. The con to George being dead is the lack of a clean-up crew. Bodies we leave behind will be found so much quicker. That ups the chance of getting caught. I’m not too worried, though. Karson and I didn’t have anyone to clean up shit when we were kids, and we did just fine.

Leana makes a small noise but says nothing. She wouldn’t stay in the car, and now she’s dragging her heels as we walk. I grab her arm and place a pair of gloves into her hand, then brush her hair from her face. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” I ask. She absolutely doesn’t look okay.

“She’ll never be okay with it, G. That’s what separates her from you and me. But she’ll get over it, and that’s where she blends with us,” Karson says. So confident. So sure.

She blows out a breath because she knows it’s true. “What if the police come?” she asks as she slips on her gloves and pulls her hair into a ponytail.

I grip her chin. “I’ll put a bullet through your pretty head before Karson and I go out in a blaze of glory,” I tell her with a smirk.

“Stop. I’m serious.”

“So am I.” I will absolutely put her out of her misery before I let her go to jail, and we sure as fuck won’t willingly return to a cell. “Hopefully they don’t come.”

When we get to the driveway in front of the mansion, I’m struck by its size. Such an unnecessary expense for a single man and his part-time kid. The extravagant masterpiece of architectural design boasts towering columns, balconies along the entire second floor, and floor-to-ceiling windows. The security booth near the front is also empty. I expected more of a challenge.

When we get to the big arching door—probably meant to look historical—Karson gets to work on the locks. Once I hear the click and we get it open, we step into a dark, empty foyer. There’s no way this dude is here.

An alarm light flashes beside us. At least the guy was smart enough to keep his system on. This is a silent alarm, meant to get police here before we even know what happened. Typically that means we have about a minute to disarm the thing.

I rub my gloved finger on the outside of the pin pad and shine my flashlight over it.

“Better guess right, G,” Karson says behind me.

“Shut up, Karson,” I snarl, trying to focus.

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