32. Lucky

32

LUCKY

T he day I got that call, when my cellphone rang and the screen lit up with the one name I was praying to see for three fucking years, I knew.

It was the second time Leonor Allan dialed my number and completely changed the lives of four men who were wandering aimlessly without her, and I knew in my gut she once again held the fine and fragile missing pieces of our future in her hands. She wielded the limitless and untapped power to alter our fate. She always had, so that day was no different.

Leo had us by the balls, and she didn’t even have to squeeze in order to get whatever the hell it was she wanted from us.

While I knew it was in fact another form of the most morbid de ja vu , I didn’t think it would get this far.

This time it went a hell of a lot farther, to be perfectly fucking honest.

When Leo called me I immediately began planning how we would keep her this time, how the future we originally planned was going to be bigger and brighter than we imagined. Once I was past the initial shock, anyway, and seeing her in the flesh, hell, I couldn’t stop the wheels from turning. I wanted everything we had before but I wanted it multiplied by a hundred thousand, and I was so thrilled to see it slowly playing out that way I chose to stay focused on that.

But that was my mistake.

I had blinders up.

I was blissful in my ignorance.

I ignored Pete’s pessimism in favor of my sunshine and fucking roses.

Which is exactly what led me here.

Wading through the dry and dead fields at the Bissonnette property, hunting through the acreage with the people I love the most in this entire world, looking for the one person we all need more than our next breath.

Leonor has been gone for nearly thirteen hours and not one soul in this godforsaken city has seen hide nor hair from her.

She was pissed when she stormed out of Justine’s house, which might actually be the understatement of the century, and for as angry as I was at her, I knew why things were going the way they were.

We all did.

Leo was in self destruct mode.

Subconsciously self-sabotaging now that everyone’s feelings were known and bodily fluids had been swapped.

It was too good to be true for our girl so she did what she always does; she picked one hell of a fight then took off before anyone could even attempt to reason with her.

Even though that’s been her MO for as long as we’ve known her, this time is different.

She’s never been gone this long, not without making contact with someone .

We gave her a few hours, the boys and I know she needs space when she’s like that but the fact that no one, not even Justine had heard from her and her phone was going straight to voicemail, that’s when I started thinking the worst.

I was able to pull up her last location on my iPhone—thank God for that Find My feature—it wasn’t too long after she left and the thought occurred to me about ten hours into her being MIA, but to McDonald’s we went in hopes of finding an ornery redhead camped out in the parking lot trying not to be found.

Leo wasn’t there, and no one on shift had seen her.

And that cute little fact was enough for the four of us to all but lose our goddamn minds and start a city-wide search that included places Leonor frequented at one point in time all the way to ones I’m sure she’d never dream of visiting.

At the twelve-and-a-half-hour mark, Justine called in a bigger panic than before because Pierre was officially missing as well.

She wasn’t worried that he didn’t come home last night, not when she knew he was working on the books at the mansion. Apparently it isn’t uncommon for him to crash there from time to time if he’s working late because the sweet old guy struggles with driving in the dark, and Justine usually made him stay put until it was light enough for him to see anyway, so she figured that’s what happened. When Pierre didn’t call her this morning or show up at the house, Justine met us in town and we all rode out to the mansion in Pete’s truck.

Seeing my van in the driveway when we got there?

Jesus, the relief that rolled through me was insane.

We all felt it, the boys and I, and Justine found some comfort in that as well because if Leo was here then Pierre must be, too.

Except, we didn’t find either of them.

The house was locked but the alarm was disabled, which didn’t seem odd at the time but after the five of us searched all three floors and the shitty cellar with absolutely no sign of Leonor or her dad, my anxiety was back full force and the lack of safety precautions seemed like a giant red flag.

Especially when I started to notice how off things felt.

The mansion wreaked of bleach.

Not my bleach, the kind I buy by the pallet at the hardware store, but another brand that can damage wood or cloth if you aren’t careful, which is how I found one teeny, tiny drop of blood in Pierre’s office upstairs. I followed the scent, noting everything out of place on the way, and eventually the slightly askew position of the desk and stronger chemical odor had me on all fours under that antique monstrosity freaking out over the plank of wood with a bleach spot on it.

A bleach spot next to an almost imperceptible speck of blood.

I saw it, though, and I tore through that fucking mansion like the OCD bastard I am after that looking for anything else in the same wheelhouse.

But there was nothing.

Not one goddamn clue that Pierre or Leo were ever here and that led to the five of us essentially laying out a half assed grid of the property and heading out in search of our family.

Which is why I’m doing everything in my power to keep myself from running through this decaying field as I slowly walk into the woods toward the swamp. I’m not going to risk missing a clue or overlooking something far more sinister because my anxiety is out of control and I’m one wrong move from a total meltdown.

It’s bad enough that I called Franc six times between the back door and my current location.

He might hate Leonor but he’s pretty neutral when it comes to Pierre, and at the end of the day he’s a goddamn cop so if he can’t do his job because of the people involved, the small shithead Italian needs to find a different line of work.

Franc’s on his way, though.

Might even be here for all I know.

I told him the guys and I were fanning the back of the property the best we could so he told me he would send some of his men in behind us while another group spread out from the front porch to tackle the sides and down to the road.

Good fucking thing, too.

If he fought me on this, if he even tried, I’d be in front of his captain so fucking fast ready to show off those photos of my brother and his boss’s wife from five years ago. Franc thought an alley was a good place for him to carry out his affair but it was on the other side of Inked in Sin and when I left my appointment only to catch him in the act, you better believe I had Ash pull his security footage for me.

Franc doesn’t know I have them but I keep them in my safe just in case my big brother decides to be a bigger dickhead than he usually is. And denying my request to help look for Leo would definitely warrant pulling that shit out to show the world.

Hopefully he’s here because the closer I get to the swamp there more…

My thoughts stop just as abruptly as I do when something small catches my eye.

A piece of fabric, small and black, stuck on a branch in a way that I wouldn’t have seen it if it wasn’t for the breeze. It kicked up at the exact right time and the movement caught my eye.

Taking one careful step, I start searching the area around it, looking for the source or anything similar, trying to see if this is just a fluke or actually a piece of…

There.

I move a little quicker when I see a second piece of torn material, definitely from a t-shirt, and when I’m close enough to practically smell Norm’s cologne on the fabric, my stomach bottoms out at what lies just beyond it.

Drag marks.

Clear, very distinct drag marks along with broken branches and… and…

Oh my god.

A clump of bright red hair.

I don’t even realize I’m running until I roll my ankle, sliding on a patch of loose dirt, barely catching myself on a tree as I pull out my phone and power through the pain.

But I can’t focus.

My hands are shaking too hard to hold my phone still to unlock, and I’m too fixated on searching the area in front of me to even look down at it.

So, I just keep running.

Ignoring every piece of bark that bites at my skin, every leaf and limb that thumps against my face. I race through the woods with my heart in my throat, my anxiety now full blown panic, a terror that is quickly racing through my veins and pounding in my ears.

I have to get to Leo.

I couldn’t save her before but I have to try now, from whatever has her all the way out here, I have to try to save my girl.

I won’t survive losing her again.

Shaking the thought from my head, I keep running until I’m face to face with the iron gate that protects the entrance of the Bissonnette family cemetery, the heavy metal shoved almost all the way open to show the drag marks don’t stop here.

My fear hits an almost unhinged level as I set foot on what’s supposed to be sacred ground, weaving through a few of the smaller mausoleums before I come to the path that will lead me to the center. To the tomb of the bastard who built this shit hole, the shrine he had commissioned for himself as a reminder to everyone that was left where the devil was buried.

And when I get there, when I get to the very center of hell, I nearly drop to my knees.

There, crucified on the marble cross, naked and covered in blood and bruises, hanging above the lifeless body of her father, is my Leonor.

The air in my lungs whooshes out of me in a ragged sob, my chest heaving as I close the space between us. “Leonor,” I whisper, choking on her name while I step over Pierre. “Leonor, god, no, Leo, please.”

Reaching out, I lift her chin and check her pulse while feeling for her breath, grateful as fuck that I find both even if they’re faint and that’s when my panic takes the wheel.

I tear through the rope around her throat, my eyes never leaving her chest while I move to the zip tie around her left wrist. As carefully as I can, I avoid Pierre while I break the zip tie around her waist, my stomach rolling while tears begin streaming down my face. I step onto the base of the cross the best I can, supporting Leo with my body, flinching as she moans in pain while I snap the tie around her other wrist before freeing her ankles the same way.

Leonor practically collapses into me, her body completely limp while I maneuver her into my arms. I cradle her to me then, pulling my shirt off with one hand so I can cover her up but pause when I notice where all the blood is coming from.

See me.

The words are carved into her stomach, etched on her perfect porcelain skin deep enough to leave a scar, and there’s a goddamn piece of paper safety pinned to her chest.

You can’t save her thrice.

Next time you’re all dead.

The urge to remove that piece of metal from her skin, to rip up that fucking note and toss it into the wind is smothering but it’s evidence.

Fucking evidence.

My back hits the side of the platform as I drop to my ass, leaning against that fucking statue while I hold Leonor tighter.

I just want to run.

I want to take Leo and get the hell out of this cemetery, out of this goddamn town and never look back. I want to hide her away from the world and keep her away from everyone in it because once again, I wasn’t able to protect her.

I couldn’t protect my girl from the monsters who lurk around every corner, and I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive myself for it.

But she’s alive.

Her breath is puffing shallowly against my skin, her heart is faintly beating against my chest, and her quiet moans of pain are echoing in my ears.

I couldn’t protect Leonor this time, but she’s alive, and I got to her before…

Shaking my head, I pull out my phone, unlocking it through my tears, and dial Pete with trembling fingers.

“Luck,” he pants as he answers. “We haven’t?—”

“I’ve got her.” My voice cracks on the final word, turning into a sob I have to swallow down. “I’ve got Leonor.”

“Where are you?”

My gaze bounces around her face, lingering on the way her eyelids twitch for a few seconds before moving to Pierre, his empty sockets staring skyward, my eyes fixed on the knife through his neck. “The cemetery.”

“Is she…” I can hear him inhale sharply, unable to say the words, and all I can do is nod.

“She’s still with us. I’ve got her, and she’s still with us.”

I keep saying that as Pete asks about Pierre, as he says a bunch of shit about medics and police.

The words keep playing on a loop, spilling from my lips until my tongue is dry, screaming in my head until I can’t speak.

I hold Leonor a little tighter while I stare at Pierre, angry that he’s gone, hating myself for being grateful that my girl isn’t.

All I can think is how fucking grateful I am that our girl is still here.

I’ve got her.

She’s still with us.

Leonor is still fucking with us.