Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Saylor

My blood was rushing through my veins, my pulse pounding in my neck and wrists.

I didn't know this crew like Elio did. But there was something off about the silence of the house as we stood outside of it, as Elio worked the lock free, then grabbed the knob to throw it open.

Inside, all there was to be found was unexpected silence, cut through by the ceiling fan in another room that was a ticking metronome that must have been maddening to listen to after a few moments.

We walked first into a small mud room dominated by a built-in cabinet where several men's jackets and shoes were organized even though the room itself was thick with dust.

Organized but not tidy.

Nothing felt out of place in the mud room.

It wasn't until we all moved into the kitchen that we froze, all three of us cursing in unison.

Because it was a fucking slaughterhouse.

Blood was splattered across the walls in violent arcs. Arterial spray and knife castoff.

The fridge, once likely a gleaming stainless steel, had bloody handprints all up the front.

There were more on the lightwood cabinets, the dishwasher, the off-white material cushions of the island chairs, overturned and scattered around the floor.

And the floor.

God, the floor.

Blood was pooled heavily in one spot. So much blood. There was no way whoever left that stain was still alive.

There was another smaller pool a few feet away, but the edges were all blurred, drag marks spreading it across the linoleum.

"It's dry," Anthony murmured, voice hardly above a whisper.

"Where are the fucking bodies?" I asked, glancing over at Anthony. Who, in turn, looked at Elio. It was likely a hierarchy thing with them. This was Elio's turf. These were his people. It was up to him to decide what to do.

"Don't touch anything," Elio whispered, rubbing a hand up the tattoo on the side of his neck before turning and stepping carefully over the bloodstains, not wanting to leave shoe print impressions that might trace back to him.

I followed behind, sandwiched between the two men. And despite all the violence around us, I felt oddly safe right there with them on either side of me as we moved through the kitchen and into the living room.

Here, too, there had been a struggle.

Two accent chairs were overthrown, something glass was shattered around the floor.

Then, close to the front door, there was one circular blood pattern on the wall that slid down.

I didn't have to be a witness to the event to know that someone, hearing the attack, tried to rush toward the door, tried to get away, then got shot. Likely in the head, given the height of the stain. Then in the split seconds before death, he slid down the wall, leaving the drag marks.

But, again, no body.

I sucked in a deep breath, smelling the coppery smell of blood, traces of old cigarette and weed smoke, but no decomposition.

So, either the bodies were not in this house, or they were in the basement and still fresh enough that they weren't in active decomp yet.

I wouldn't pretend to be an expert in forensics like that. But I did know a mouse once got into my apartment and died under my fridge. And I could smell his body the second I opened my bedroom door. This horrific rotten broccoli type stench that I would never forget.

That was just a tiny mouse.

I couldn't imagine how much a human body would smell as it started to break down.

Elio gestured toward the hallway, and we once again fell into a single-file line, obedient little students moving through the small house, finding nothing in the bathroom or the small back room that was piled with unmarked moving boxes.

Elio headed for the steps, all of us cringing in unison as the steps squeaked, crunched, and sagged under us as we ascended.

The top landing was empty, but I zeroed in on a small slash of blood at shoulder level in one of the doorways.

Elio must have spotted it too, because he flattened against the wall then moved in that direction as Anthony stayed across the hall, aiming toward the steps, the other bedrooms, and what was likely a bathroom at the end of the hall.

I moved with Elio, wanting to have his back.

We stepped into a small bedroom dominated by a full-sized mattress.

There was no body.

And no sheets.

But the mattress had a sizable bloodstain seeped into it.

Elio moved to the closet, using the bottom of his suit jacket to twist the knob and look inside.

Shaking his head, we both moved into the hallway.

The other two bedrooms seemed to be unaffected by whatever tragedy had happened in this house.

But the bathroom at the end of the hall was straight out of a horror movie.

The white tile was stained blood. Floors, walls. Toilet, sink cabinet, the mirror.

Elio plucked a piece of toilet paper off of the roll, using it to draw back the shower curtain.

The entire tub was caked in blood. So red it was almost black. More of it than seemed possible.

And there, sitting right in the center of it, was evidence of why there were no bodies around.

"Is that…" I whispered.

Elio's gaze cut to mine, something chilling in his dark eyes.

"It's a bone saw."

Unwanted images flooded my mind, making my stomach twist and flip over, making me suddenly glad that we hadn't had time to eat anything before catching the ferry. I was pretty sure if I had, it would all be making its way back up my throat as I stood there, imagining these men and their horrible deaths, then someone bringing them upstairs and dismembering them. Not with a power tool. With a fucking surgical, manual saw.

The amount of work that would take.

The coldness in someone's soul that would require.

I was suddenly thankful for Anthony's voice of reason, his prudence, in holding me back from rushing across that street and trying to take on a small group of these men.

Even just one of them was capable of this kind of savagery.

I didn't want to imagine what they would have done to me before they finally killed and dismembered me as well.

"We have to check the basement," Elio said as we all carefully stepped back out of the bathroom, then down the hall.

My stomach was twisting into painful knots as we moved down the steps, knowing how exposed we would all be if someone happened to come in right then, how there was nowhere to hide.

Sure, we were armed.

And I was a hell of a shot.

But shit happened in life-or-death situations.

We made it back to the main floor without incident, though, and we all moved in three positions around the basement door as Elio used the same toilet paper to open it as he had the shower curtain, then moved down sideways. I was right at his heels, aiming down. Anthony was behind me, aiming up.

These steps were blessedly silent, but shallow, and part of me was terrified that Anthony might trip then take all of us down with him.

I reached up with my free hand, pressing it into him as we kept moving down.

The basement was bisected by a wall down the center of it, a single brown door in the center, an old poster of various bodyweight exercises tacked to the back of it.

This side of the basement was unassuming. A washer and dryer were against the wall, several economy tubs of detergent in a garbage can next to them, and an old recliner set near the machines with a paperback book opened on the arm like a bookmark to keep the reader's place.

I felt a sudden gut-punch of sadness at the idea of the person never being able to finish that story.

Anthony nudged me, making me turn to see him nod toward the ground where several stains were dripped across the floor. In the low light, they could have been paint or oil or various household fluids. But everything about this crime scene of a house suggested we not believe that, so I nudged Elio and pointed toward where they disappeared into the other side of the basement.

We inched closer, careful to avoid the spots. Elio produced the toilet paper again, reaching up over his head to undo a simple hook & eye lock, then reaching for the knob as he gave us a nod.

My breath stuttered in my chest as he threw open the door and charged inside.

I was one step behind, with Anthony right behind me.

And we charged into another dark, windowless room that reeked of blood, piss, body odor, and that acidic undercurrent of fear.

Behind me Anthony used his sleeved arm to flick a switch, and stark fluorescent light filtered through the space, lighting up even the darkest corners.

Not that any of us were looking there.

Not when faced with what was right in the middle of the room.

Or, rather, who.

Right there, bound to a steel support beam by a tight chain around his wrists that had his shoulders arching backward into the beam, was a man.

He was slumped on the floor, exhaustion, dehydration, and pain likely making it impossible to stay on his feet any longer.

His head was slumped, and all I could see of his face was a straight nose, and a mass of thick brown hair, though some of it was matted down to his head with thick dried blood.

There was more blood on his shirt, down his arms, on the chains behind his back, on the floor around him.

And there, just a few feet from the man's leg, was a molar.

"Matej," Elio exhaled, eyes wide, as he looked down at the man.

At the sound of his voice, Matej's head shot up, wincing at the light, and blinking before he seemed to focus on Elio.

"Elio?" Matej asked, something suspicious in his voice. Like he didn't quite believe what he was seeing.

I don't know what I expected of Matej. But I guess I figured he would be older. But I would put him at about Elio's age, maybe just a little older than Anthony. With classically handsome features—high cheekbones, a sculpted, narrow jaw, warm brown eyes with thick lashes and full brows, and facial hair that was more than a five o'clock shadow, but less than a full beard. Though, it was getting closer now, likely thanks to being held down here for an unknown period of time.

"Matej, the fuck?" Elio asked, tucking away his gun. "Where's the key?" he asked.

"Work table," Matej said, voice rough. As he spoke, his dry lips cracked in a way that I swear made my own ache.

"I'm going to get him some water," Anthony said.

"I'll come," I offered. "Keep an eye," I added, looking toward Elio, who gave us a nod as he located the key, and moved toward the other man.

"This is not great," Anthony said, moving up the stairs, but pausing at the landing to look around before stepping onto the main level.

He grabbed some paper towels, using them to open the fridge, then grabbed two sports drinks and several cheese sticks.

"We should get him some clothes," I said. At Anthony's blank look, I shrugged. "You smelled it down there," I reminded him. "He hasn't been unchained even to go to the bathroom."

"Right," he agreed. "But let's be quick."

With that, we made our way upstairs where I located a sweatshirt and some sleep pants, as well as some bath wipes in a bathroom drawer filled with female products. I grabbed them as I said a little prayer that no innocent woman had been wrapped up in this mess before following Anthony back down to the basement.

Anthony rushed forward, twisting the top off of the blue sports drink, and handing it to Matej, who seemed to be struggling even to hold the bottle to his lips as he gulped it down.

He chased it with the red sports drink before devouring the cheese sticks in just two big bites each.

"Fuck, Matej, how long have you been down here?" Elio asked.

"I don't even know what day it is," Matej admitted, a slight accent in his deep, smooth voice. When Elio rattled off the date, Matej seemed to pale as he sat on the floor, holding onto the empty bottle of his drink.

"Seven days," Matej admitted. "The first five, I had… visits," he admitted, gesturing to his face. "Had one bottle of water to keep me alive," he went on, suddenly looking at his jeans, stiff with dried urine.

"Here," I said, moving forward to press the clothes onto a clean spot on the floor near him, then setting the wipes down on top of them. "I'll step out," I added as his grateful gaze lifted to mine, making my heart ache for him. For what he'd been through. For what he surely knew he'd lost.

I moved just inside the door on the other side, not wanting to miss anything if the men talked, but all I heard was the shuffling as Elio and Anthony helped Matej up and, I imagined, had to assist him in undressing, given how weak he was.

"Saylor," Anthony called a few moments later.

I moved back in, finding Matej dressed in the clothes I'd gotten for him, a pile of bath wipes on the floor where he'd been standing, though Anthony and Elio had moved him over to a rusted old folding chair, so he could rest.

"Matej, this is Anthony and Saylor. Friends of mine," Elio told him. Matej gave us each a slight nod before looking back at the familiar face in the room. "What the fuck happened here?" Elio asked.

To that, a muscle ticked in Matej's jaw. Anger. But it conflicted with the raw pain in his warm eyes.

"My brother," Matej admitted, shaking his head. "I was sleeping upstairs," he said, eyes far away as the memories came back to him. "I heard the screams," he said, lower lip quivering. Pain or anger? That was anyone's guess.

I imagine he'd woken up to the horror scene happening in the kitchen.

"It went on for so long," he said, closing his eyes. "So much screaming as I got my gun and started downstairs. When I heard a shout, a shot, then… nothing. The silence… fuck," he said, sucking in a deep breath.

There was a moment of silence, the man lost in his grief, before he continued. "There was nothing I could do down there. I started back up. That's when they came running…"

"What about the bedroom upstairs?" Elio asked. The sheetless bed with the massive bloodstain in the mattress.

"Karel," Matej recalled. "Passed out drunk. Didn't hear anything. Didn't, I hope, feel anything, either," he said, swallowing hard. "Not like Petr and Jan," he went on, head hanging, but his hand lifted to wipe a tear off of his cheek.

Elio moved closer, grabbing the man's shoulder, squeezing, offering silent sympathy as I felt unexpected tears flooding my own eyes.

I wasn't typically an emotional woman. But I'd been in that kitchen. I'd seen the horrors that those two men had known in their final moments. If that didn't make you a little emotional, you were a monster.

Ever observant, Anthony reached out, sliding an arm around my lower back, his fingers digging into my hip, offering comfort without making me feel weak for needing it.

"There was no way out, though," Elio said when Matej pulled himself together again.

"No," Matej said, shaking his head. "I got off one shot before my brother was on me. Then…" he said, waving at the basement.

"Why would Jan do this? These were his people too," Elio said.

To that, Matej shook his head. "This is all my fault," he said, and I couldn't imagine that kind of burden on your shoulders. "I kicked out Jan last month," he admitted. "He was… bringing shame to this organization. He could have left. With grace. He had more than enough money to feed his appetites. But that wasn't good enough."

"He has a crew," Elio said.

"Men I had cut off many months or years ago," Matej said. "For similar reasons. I didn't know Jan was still in contact with them."

"He might not have been," Elio said. "He could have just been pissed off and sought them out."

"He didn't have to do this ," Matej said, sniffling as he looked toward the wall, trying not to break down. "I need to go. I need to find him."

"We know where he is," I said, making Matej's gaze shoot to me.

"You do?" he asked, brows pinching, and I wasn't sure if it was typical sexism, or if he was just confused because he didn't know who I was.

"They stole from me," I told him. "So, I've been looking into them."

"That's why we're here, actually," Elio explained. "If not for him stealing from Saylor, I'm not sure we would have found you in time."

"What did he steal?" Matej asked, something in his voice deep with feeling. I almost felt like he was asking because he planned to make it right, pay for what was lost.

That, unfortunately, wasn't the big problem at hand now.

Not when men this psychotic were so heavily armed.

"I'm an arms dealer," I told him, watching understanding and horror move across his handsome face.

"Do you have any reason to believe Jan would be batshit crazy enough to try to take down the Costa Family?" Elio asked.

At that, Matej's gaze slid to Anthony, putting the final pieces together.

"A month ago, I would have said no. Now? I don't know what he is capable of. Can we move upstairs?" he asked.

"Ah…" Elio said, looking over at us.

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Anthony piped in.

"They didn't… clean up," I told Matej, the only one of us willing to give him the horrible truth.

Matej's chest expanded as he took a deep breath, then carefully got to his feet, seeming as surprised as I was that he was able to stay on his feet.

"I heard it," he said. "I can handle seeing the aftermath," he said, taking his first few determined steps across the basement.

With that, Elio shrugged before moving to throw an arm around Matej, taking on some of his weight as Anthony and I went ahead, checking the area again before he made it to the top of the landing, sweat dripping, looking close to passing out.

"I need more fluids," he said.

"Let me just set you down in the living room" Elio said, deciding it was the least terrible of the crime scenes. Though, looking at it again with fresh eyes, I was pretty sure there was brain matter on the top of the cabinet under the TV.

Elio nodded toward the kitchen, and all three of us moved in there.

"What now?" I asked. "We can't just leave him here, weak as he is, with this mess everywhere."

"No," Elio agreed. "I was thinking of taking him to a hotel or somewhere he can rest and recover. But I don't know if he's going to agree to that. He's stubborn. Has a lot of pride. This is his home. These were his people," he said, waving toward the blood.

"We could clean it," Anthony said, making me turn to look at him, brows scrunched. "Matej isn't going to go to the police over this," he explained. "He's going to want to handle his brother. So he will need all of this cleaned up. It wouldn't be the first crime scene I cleaned."

"Mine either," Elio admitted.

None of us realized Matej had mustered his strength and moved out of the living room until we heard him in the doorway. "What are you—" His voice trailed off as his gaze moved around the kitchen, taking in the spray, the castoff, the handprints, like we all had less than an hour before. But for us, there was no emotional attachment. Matej not only knew men had died horribly here, but who they were, and what they'd sounded like as they'd been slaughtered.

I watched his Adam's apple as he swallowed hard before forcing his gaze over to us. "What were you discussing?"

"Getting you somewhere safe. Then cleaning this up," Elio told him.

"I'm not going anywhere," Matej said, the lift of his chin telling me that he was going to put a foot down about this.

"It's not safe here. Especially when you're not at your full strength," Elio said, trying to sway him.

"I'll eat and drink. I'll be back to normal by tomorrow," Matej insisted. "I'm not leaving my home."

"I understand," Elio said, even if I was struggling to. I couldn't imagine trying to sleep in a house of horrors like this. Not even after the blood and brain matter was cleaned up. "But I am going to help," he said. "No one should be trying to do this alone," he said. "For now, please, let's sit," he said, grabbing another sports drink out of the fridge before leading Matej back out to the living room, leaving Anthony and I alone.

"I am going to help too," Anthony said. "I can't imagine what he's going through. He shouldn't do this alone."

"I want to help," I said, checking my phone.

"But you need to get back to Fury," he concluded.

"Yeah. I mean, I have a while, but…"

Anthony looked torn at that. Between wanting to stay here and do a good deed and come back with me.

As if I needed more reasons to like the man.

"I can go back to the city by myself. I'm a big girl," I said. "I've been taking care of Fury by myself."

"I know. Just…" he said, waving around the kitchen.

"I will be safely in the studio most of the time. I mean, how long could it take? Five hours or so? It's not like you're trying to pass a forensics analysis. Just make it habitable again."

"True," he agreed, still not liking the arrangement.

"It'll be fine," I said. "I just feel bad that I can't help more."

"Actually, you can," Elio said as he came back into the kitchen."

"How?" I asked.

"We need supplies. But we need to look like we're not trying to hide bodies," he said. "Bleach, gloves, paper towels…"

"How many stores carry that shit on Staten Island?" Anthony asked.

"Within a reasonable distance? Ten."

"I'll get the bleach," I offered. "Figure people are less likely to suspect a woman of trying to hide bodies," I said, shrugging. "I think I can reasonably get two gallons at two different stores without anyone thinking twice about it."

With that, we got Matej some more food, found him a few of his weapons, then headed to the stores to get everything we needed.

"Want a snack or something? Anthony asked, waving toward the shelves at the last store.

"No. I'm… not hungry," I admitted, stomach still a little twisty from the blood and the story Matej told.

"Never thought I'd hear that," Anthony said, taking the paper towels from me, and putting them up on the belt with his.

"I know, right?" I agreed. Not even the sour gummy worms in the checkout lane looked tempting.

When we made it back to the parking lot, Elio was coming back with a box of gloves to add to our stash that already filled the trunk and spilled out into the backseat next to me.

"You guys are going to need to buy or rent a carpet cleaner," I reminded them. At their pinched brows, I shook my head. "The mattress. A surface clean isn't going to cut it. Carpet clean it, and then buy one of those rubbery bed bags to put it in before you get rid of it."

"Gotten rid of a lot of bloodstained mattresses, huh?" Elio asked, shooting me a smirk in the rearview. "We will unload all of this shit, then Ant can drive you back to the ferry," he said.

With that, we drove back to the house and unpacked the carload of supplies as well as more drinks and food for Matej. Along with some mouthwash for his missing tooth gap, and a bunch of first-aid supplies to clean up his wounds.

"These things were a damn good idea," Anthony said as he reached down to remove the booties covering his shoes as we moved out onto the back deck.

"It'll make life easier," I agreed. I'd also convinced them to buy white tees and cheap pajama pants to change into to clean. That way they could bleach the shit out of them in the wash, get back into their clothes, and have no trace evidence on them. "Gonna have to ask Silvano if he knows all these tricks," he added.

"Who is Silvano?" I asked.

"He's who the Family uses to… clean things up," he said.

"Saylor," Matej called, making me turn back to look at him leaning in the doorway, still looking weak and sad, but trying his best to stay upright.

"Yeah?"

"I will make things right," he vowed.

"Don't worry about that," I said, shaking my head. Suddenly, my missing supply of guns felt really fucking small in the face of this man's losses. "Focus on getting yourself well again."

"I will make it right," he said, voice stronger.

"Okay," I agreed, knowing he wouldn't let it drop. "But there's no rush," I added.

"I will be back in half an hour," Anthony said, nodding toward Matej and Elio in the house behind him.

With that, he jingled Elio's keys in one hand while pressing his hand to my lower back in the other.

Really, it was asking far too much of his coordination.

His foot caught the last step weird, sending him pitching forward. And I was pretty sure if I hadn't grabbed the railing hard with one hand, and snagged the back of his belt with the other, that he would have done more than just stumble and catch himself. And that was an unforgiving concrete slab right below him.

He turned to me, sheepish, neck going red.

"Hey, it's been like a full day since you've almost seriously injured yourself. That's got to be a record, right?" I teased, making him chuckle before we made our way to the car.

There was a strange longing within me as we stood at the port, waiting for the next ferry, since we'd been five minutes too late for the one that had left, and had another half an hour for the next one.

"You're quiet," Anthony said, closing his arms around me when a shiver racked my system as the wind started to kick off, made colder by blowing over the water.

"I don't know what to say," I told him. Because it felt impossible to express the truth. That I was longing for him even though I was still with him. That I was missing him when I was still in his arms.

Because that? Yeah, that was insane.

It was a couple of hours, for God's sake.

"Are you alright? I know today was a lot."

"Yeah. I mean, yeah, it was a lot. But also, yeah, I'm okay. Not great. I feel really bad for Matej. And a little queasy still about his story. But I'm alright. Just wish I could stay."

There.

That was close to the truth without revealing too much.

"I wish you could stay too," he said, pressing a kiss to my head. "Or that I could go with you. I just… someone has to help that guy."

"I agree," I said, adding a silent damnit . "You'll let me know when you're heading to the ferry? Or however you're coming back?"

"Yeah. Then I'll let you know when I'm in the city. I'm gonna need you to unlock the door for me," he said, since we only had the one key.

"I'll have some food delivered too. You're gonna be starving by then."

He nodded at that, but his face was nuzzling into my neck.

"Then we're gonna fall into that bed and get lost in each other for a few hours," he promised, making my belly flip-flop.

"Don't make promises that your tired ass won't be able to make good on."

"Babe, I would need to be on death's door not to fuck you," he said, checking his watch, and letting out a grumble. "You need to go in if you want to catch the ferry," he said.

I didn't want to.

But Fury deserved a steady schedule.

And it was only a few hours .

Except, of course, as it would turn out… that wasn't exactly how it played out.