Chapter 22

Raylan

22

The following couple of days go by in a heavy blur. Sometimes, I feel as if I'm sinking into a bowl of water, and someone decides to pour black ink into it. I find myself helpless as I watch the blobs dissolve and diffuse, muddling everything and leaving me blind. But we make it to the final day, either our last or the first of what's left of our lives. We're not sure which just yet.

If we succeed with our mission, we'll have enough leverage to force Henry David to turn against the Black Hand and give us the evidence we need to reveal and destroy them. Taking his daughter clearly wasn't enough, especially after the cabal decided she might as well be dead and, therefore, less of a problem.

Daddy dearest wasn't too vocal about that. I don't think I will ever let him live that down. In fact, I hope we put him away in cuffs with the rest of them. A prick like Henry David doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as Ariana, let alone be a part of her life in any manner.

We took great care in planning this last stretch of the operation.

"How many of ours are in jail now?" I ask Sky as we pull over half a mile down the block from Henry's residence.

We're in a quiet neighborhood. The street is lined by two-story houses with generous front lawns and wrought iron fences, each boasting a state-of-the-art security system. Ariana grew up on the nicer side of town. I'm glad for her. She never experienced poverty or real hunger. She has, however, experienced true heartbreak, and I don't think there's a deeper pain than that.

"Six, but there were arraignment hearings today. Our lawyers will give us an update in the morning," Sky says, turning the engine off.

The pickup truck we're in isn't the flashiest, but it's not the dullest, either. It's relatively new and black, helping it blend in with the other cars parked up and down the road.

"What about Shiloh?" I reply, pulling out a gun and a couple of magazines from one of our go bags. I check them both and slip them into the back pocket of my jeans. "How is she feeling?"

"She's going to be all right," Sky mutters. "Pissed as hell, of course."

"I can't blame her."

"She'll sue the city over this."

"As she should. I suppose she'll be using our lawyers."

"You bet," Sky replies.

We get out of the truck and linger for a couple of minutes, carefully analyzing our surroundings. At this hour, folks are most likely sitting down to dinner or relaxing after a long day at work. Henry is out of the house on his way to a meeting with Ariana and Kendric—he doesn't know that yet, however. He thinks he's meeting with Thierry Estes to get some dirt on Masterson.

I know that even if Masterson does eventually give up for one reason or another, somebody else will be there to take his place. Once the Black Hand puts a hit out, it stays forever or until the target is extinguished. I intend to ensure that Ariana survives. She deserves not only the truth but peace and happiness as well. And I intend to survive, too, along with Kendric and Sky, so that we may be a part of her said peace and happiness. Too many people have suffered for too long because of these pricks.

"What are the odds that the mansion isn't under surveillance?" I mumble as we take one of the side roads leading to the back of Henry's residence.

"Close to none," Sky says. "He's even more paranoid than Thierry. Then again, he has every reason given the recent events."

"And given what he's hiding."

"Right. But we've done this before. And Ariana gave us enough intel that we already know the inside of that house down to the last nook and cranny," Sky says.

Indeed, we do. We sat her down for a whole evening, and she used a pen and plenty of paper to draw everything she remembered—every room, approximate dimensions, furniture positions, and potential hiding spots. We are aware of three different safes in the house, including one in the basement, but we also know to look in the less obvious places, especially in Henry's private study.

Sky thinks we'll hit the motherlode somewhere in his bedroom, but I have my doubts. We should've placed a bet on it. I guess I love being right a little too much.

"I'm nervous about Ariana being there. I know Kendric is with her, but still …" Sky says as we casually walk down the street.

I smile and wave at one of the neighbors. He's out with his dog, waiting for the pooch to finish his midnight business on somebody else's lawn, and he waves back even though it's clear to me he has no idea who we are. But we're waving and friendly, so we must be local residents. That's how these neighborhoods work. People think they know one another, but they really don't. If they did, Henry's house would've burned to the ground a long time ago.

A couple of evening joggers pass by, and Sky gives them both a slight nod as they run past us.

I glance over my shoulder to make sure they're not looking back. They keep running and chatting in between ragged breaths. Not a care in the world. Of course. It's not their lives that hang in the balance tonight. It's mine. Sky's. Kendric's. Not to mention Ariana's.

"Ken will keep her safe," I remind Sky. "We couldn't trust her with anybody else."

"I'd rather she didn't go at all."

"You know that's not how this works. She needs to look that bastard in the eyes. She needs to confront him more than the three of us put together," I kindly say.

He nods slowly. "Yeah. I just want her to be okay."

"She will be. Henry won't bring anyone with him. He won't want anyone tailing him, either. You heard Thierry. The man loves his daughter; he wants her to survive."

"But he won't renounce his ties to those fuckers, either."

"Well, that won't bode well for him," I say. "They're going to be fine, Sky. All they're doing is keeping Henry busy over there while we're over here."

He nods again, but I can tell he's not entirely convinced that we're playing it smart. We've never really played it smart. There's no way of doing that when you're going up against an organization like the Black Hand. They have contingency on top of contingency, plans B, C, and D already in place, always.

All we have is this insane desire to destroy them and our combined military experience. It's better than nothing, but I doubt it's enough to guarantee success. We have to try either way. We also have to accept the risks and keep pushing forward, no matter what. Sky knows this. And so does Ariana.

We take ten minutes to circle the area and identify where Henry's guards are positioned: two in the front and two in the back. There's a third one in a black SUV parked across the street from the house, but we only need to get past the two in the back to enter.

"Let's hope Henry hasn't changed the locks or the alarm code," I whisper as we cautiously approach the back gate.

Sky pats his backpack. "We have options for that, too."

Blessed be our IT crew. Hell, we should've invested in a black ops company instead of a motorcycle club. Given the amount of talent under our roof, we could've easily made millions doing covert operations for our government and overseas allies if we wanted to. But no. We had to be righteous instead. I make a mental note to bring this up when it's all over, hoping they won't shoot the idea down again. I'd love to get back in the action, albeit under different circumstances.

"One at three o'clock," Sky says. "The other is on the northeast corner."

Carefully, I unlock the back gate.

I give it a second, then dart behind a large sycamore tree. It's old, with a trunk thick enough to keep us both out of sight while we wait for the security guards to complete their round of the backyard.

Once they're back together by the northeast corner of the house, we bolt past the hydrangea bushes and the stone sculptures and hide behind the opposite corner of the back porch. My heart is racing, my blood rushing with adrenaline as my eyes scan everywhere.

The guards are big, burly types, clad in black suits and definitely packing heat. They're wearing earpieces, and they seem to be in constant communication with one another. Every five minutes, one of them confirms something to the others. They're standing still now, looking somewhere toward the east.

We've got a distraction ready for them, however.

I texted one of our IT kids to initiate the conversation. A split second later, several car alarms went off on the street.

The guards are on alert and update one another through their earpieces as they make their way over to the fence.

It's the perfect opportunity for us to get in while they scope out the situation on the street. Low visibility of any kind could be a problem.

Sky takes a key we retrieved from Ariana's apartment out of his pocket. "We're in," he murmurs as the door unlocks with a single click.

I breathe a sigh of relief. Once we're inside, Sky relocks the back door, and we stay clear of any windows, no matter how small. The street remains very noisy. We have about five minutes before the car alarms shut off.

We'll have another distraction for our departure. I just hope it works as seamlessly as the first one.

We move through the house quickly and quietly.

"There it is," Sky points to one of the paintings mounted on the living room wall, just above the fireplace. "The first safe."

We continue to steer clear of the windows, ducking when needed in order not to draw the security detail's attention from the outside. Careful and light-footed, we cross the room and reach the fireplace.

The painting itself looks expensive. It is an original Impressionist-inspired work in shades of blue and green depicting Chesapeake Bay. Sky takes it down, gingerly holding it by its blackwood frame, revealing a small safe door.

"You have the codes, right?" he asks me.

I nod and go through the notes on my phone. "Fourteen, six, one, nine, nine, one," I say.

"That's Ariana's birthday," he smiles and punches the code into the keyboard. The tiny, blinking red light above the latch turns green, promptly followed by a clicking sound. "Attagirl."

He opens the safe, and we're both breathless at the sight before us. My core feels tight as I realize what we're looking at. Stacked on top of one another, at least a dozen manila folders are occupying more than half of the safe space.

Sky glances over his shoulder, instinctively checking to see where the guards might be outside, then looks at his watch again. "Four minutes," he whispers.

"We've got time," I reply and pull the folders out. There's also money in the safe, thick wads tied with elastic bands, along with two handguns and their appropriate ammo magazines. Henry David doesn't strike me as a gun aficionado, but as a lackey for the Black Hand, I can definitely imagine him paranoid enough to keep at least a few pieces throughout the house, just in case he might need them.

"What are these?" Sky asks.

"Case files," I say, briefly browsing through a couple of the folders. "Originals, it looks like. Not department-issued copies. Actual case files, including … oh, wow," I exhale sharply upon recognizing one of the victims in a photograph. "Including his wife's so-called accident. This is Rose Parker's case file."

"Why does Henry David have the original?"

"Good question. We'll ask him," I say and shove Rose's folder in my duffel bag. I'd take them all, but we need the cops to come in, search the place, and find all the originals here. Otherwise, it's considered evidence tampering. Besides, we only need Rose's case file for what comes next.

"Three minutes," Sky says and starts snapping pictures as soon as I put the other folders back. "For posterity," he adds when I give him a look.

Fair enough. I check my notes again while Sky puts the painting back over the safe, leaving everything in place as if we were never even here. The whole point is to have Henry get as comfortable as possible before we apprise him of the precarious situation he's put himself in. Part of me is giddy with excitement upon seeing Henry David's face when he learns where he stands. He's been badgering us for so long that I have little to no sympathy for the guy, especially after seeing how he handled Masterson and the cabal's actions against his daughter.

I would throw him to the wolves, but I know Ariana doesn't want her father to die.

We've got the bedroom safe next.

We move up the steps and find the bedroom right away, thanks to Ariana's sketches.

"Under the bed," Sky says and gets down on all fours.

I hear his hand patting the floor. I also hear the hollow space that he uncovers. "Here," I whisper and give him the crowbar I have in the duffel bag.

Sky pulls the floorboard apart while I check the window. Both guards are talking by the pool and occasionally checking their phones. Neighbors are on the street, pointing their useless key fobs at their cars. The car alarms are still going off, and I look at my watch again. "Two minutes," I state.

"I know," Sky replies and takes a small box from under the floorboards.

It's a portable safe with a keypad, the same tech as the one downstairs. Henry would want to be able to carry this stuff out safely if the shit ever hit the fan, so a portable safe is a smart move. I open my duffel bag, letting Sky drop the whole thing in. It's heavy, but not as heavy as the burden of not doing this would be.

"We have to get out of here before the alarms turn off, but we might as well check the basement safe next and deal with this one once we're home," Sky says.

I follow him down the stairs, and we make our way into the basement. It's dark and damp. Unlike the upper levels, there isn't a single source of natural light here, so we need our flashlights to make sense of what we're looking at and where we're stepping.

"Hell, this place hasn't been touched in decades," I mumble.

"Over here," Sky says, quick to spot a wall-mounted tool panel.

Behind the panel is our third objective. Another safe, this time with a touchscreen keypad. At the first tap, it displays a fingerprint icon, along with a couple more options below: biometric and PIN code. Sky chooses the PIN code, careful to use a knuckle and not the thumb of his gloved hand. We don't want to leave any fingerprints around.

I give him the PIN code from my phone notes. "One, four, four, five."

"I wonder what significance that number has?"

"I have no idea. Some political crap, maybe," I reply. "Doesn't matter. What's in there?"

"Oh my, Henry's been a very naughty boy." A grin slits Sky's face from ear to ear as he pulls a plastic bag out of the open safe. There are car parts in it, small pieces likely removed from Rose's vehicle. I recognize a couple of them, and my mind is already making the right connections. "We're going to need to dig deeper into the chain of custody here because Detective Amstaff was clearly bamboozled by at least one of his coworkers."

"The folks in evidence custody," I mutter.

We take photos of the safe's contents, then put the plastic bag into my duffel along with the other evidence we are removing. I would kill just to sit back and watch the Feds raid the whole house, turning it inside out while Henry sits on the sidelines, constantly yapping about what a gross miscarriage of justice this is.

"All right, so far, so good," Sky says, putting everything else back in before clicking the tool panel back to its original setting. "How much time?"

"Forty-five seconds," I reply.

He points upstairs. "Follow me."

"Always," I shoot back.

"Kitchen door," Sky says.

I'm already texting our IT kid as we climb the stairs back to the ground floor.

He knows what to do in order to draw the bodyguards away from the porch again. I just hope he's got enough fire in him to get away before they catch him. We reach the living room and come to a sudden halt. I freeze at the sight of three men who aren't supposed to be here. Masterson and the two bodyguards that we evaded outside.

And all of them have their guns trained directly on us.

"I had a feeling Mr. David was up to no good when he shook our tail," Masterson says, both hands firmly gripping his semiautomatic weapon, clearly not service issued. That's his personal piece. But it's the self-satisfied smirk on his face that gets my blood boiling. "I'm guessing he's out to get me, and you figured you'd draw him out so you can get him."

"He's not as dumb as he looks," I mutter to Sky.

We're in deep shit. We both know that. Our survival instincts have already kicked in. I can see Sky's gaze darting all over the place as he tries to figure a way out for us. For the following seconds, however, all we can do is stand still and drag this out for as long as we can.

They knew we were coming.

I can't fathom betrayal from our inner circle. The operatives supporting us in this mission couldn't have been turned by the cabal. It can't be Thierry, either. He's not that dumb. If we out him and his blood diamond business, the Black Hand will terminate him before the press ever will. He had no reason to sell us out. Henry has no idea that this was a ruse in the first place. No, this was all Masterson.

We underestimated this bastard, and it could cost us everything.

Kendric and Ariana are still out there, still doing their part of the job. We need to make sure they get out of it alive, and we need to make sure we do the same.