It’s absolute chaos as guests disperse in all directions. Someone points to an open window on the top floor of the mansion, which causes others to start pointing as well. There’s a long barrel sticking out of it, and another round is fired, but this time, it hits the grass.
Lucas. It has to be.
The party is officially a fiasco as everyone runs for cover or to escape the place completely. Women scream, stumbling on their stilettos, while men run alongside, attempting to shield them. Kay whisks Jocelyn away, but not before ordering his men to attack Augusta’s. Without hesitation, they swing at us, and I wasn’t prepared for this segment of the shit show. I duck when a fist flies my way and wrap my arms around his torso, tackling him to the ground. We roll across the grass, and this guy is my equal in strength with his punches.
However, my ribs are still tender, so he gets the best of me, and I find myself on my back with him on top. He pulls a knife from his bulletproof vest, and the blade glints at me as he raises it in the air.
Fuck.
I use my arms to block him from stabbing me, but the side of his head explodes, and I flinch from the blood splattering across my skin. He flops over, but I don’t know what happened.
“Get up!” Bishop extends her hand to me, and I’ve never been more relieved to see someone I barely know. Slapping my palm in hers, she hauls me to my feet. “Let’s get you out of here.”
“I have to get upstairs. Lucas killed Augusta!”
“Lucas?”
“Yeah, this guy just fucked me over, and I need to know why. You coming?”
“Miguel, wait.” Bishop runs after me. “I need to get you and Angie out of here.”
“What? How do you know Angie?”
“I’m Sammy’s friend. He asked me to look after you guys tonight.”
“But you said you’re Reina’s friend.”
“I am, but I’m also Sammy’s. He’s friends with my old man, Carmine Caruso.”
Rapid gunfire pops behind us, causing Bishop and I to duck for cover. However, the shots aren’t meant for us. Jocelyn’s security team goes down as Emilio’s men come to Bernard’s aid, executing the traitors.
“Let’s hurry up and get inside. It’s mayhem out here,” I say.
We haul ass through the solarium and skid into the mansion, taking a moment to assess our surroundings as guests rush toward the entrance and trample over each other to exit the doors. A swarm of employees burst through a swing door from the kitchen and into the dining room, followed by a cloud of smoke. One shouts there’s a fire, and we must leave. There’s a small gap in the stampede, so I tug Bishop’s arm.
“This way!”
“Wait! You heard that guy. This place is gonna burn. I gotta find Angie,” she says.
“Go. Take her to my apartment. Angie knows the address. I’ll be ok.”
“Don’t do anything stupid.”
“I won’t.”
But I can’t promise anything as I sprint for the stairs and fly up two steps at a time, determined to find Lucas. The window was at the very top, so he must have taken the shot from the attic. I have no idea what I’m going to do when I find him, but I know I need answers since he just screwed me over from protecting the people I love. Jocelyn must be paying him big bucks, and I hope it was worth it because it’s going straight to his hospital bill after the ass-beating I give him.
However, when I reach the third level, I run right into the guy as he’s wrestling someone dressed in black camouflage. They’re rolling across the floor in what looks like MMA moves, and I’m like the referee, circling them, trying to figure out what the hell is going on. Lucas ends up on his back, but he’s not helpless. Instead, he has his arms and legs wrapped around the other guy in a grip so tight that his veins are bulging on his forehead. They rock back and forth as Lucas clutches the mystery person in a sleeper hold until, finally, the guy passes out.
“What the fuck?” I yank the ninja off and toss him aside.
Lucas springs to his feet. “It’s time to get out of here, that’s what!”
“Oh, hell no!” I grab his collar and slam him into the nearest wall.
He’s saying something, but I don’t care to listen as I pound my knuckles into his face. On the second blow, he jackknifes his knee into my balls and ducks, causing me to punch through the wall instead of his cheek. I’m still reeling from having my nut sack abused for the second time today as Lucas begins drumming my torso with his fists before shoving me to the floor. He takes off running, but I grab his ankle, and he falls flat on his stomach. I could puke from how badly my balls are throbbing, yet I drag myself closer to him. He flips onto his back and kicks me in the face, and there’s a crunch as my nose breaks.
Fuck. That’s going to leave a mark.
“You’re not listening!” Lucas yells and continues kicking while backing up on his elbows as I keep crawling forward, trying to snatch his ankles but missing.
“I’m going to kill you.” I finally grab hold of his foot and yank him toward me.
“I was set up!”
“Fucking lies!” I try climbing onto him, but he’s making it rather difficult with all his kicking.
We must look ridiculous. I can hardly breathe from having my testicles rattled, yet I will drag myself all over this damn floor to fuck Lucas up.
“Listen to what I’m saying, damn it!” He shouts and points at the guy in black camo. “That’s the person who killed Augusta, and now we need to get out of here!”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Think about it. Why would I kill Augusta?”
“I don’t know!" I pin his arms, but Lucas has stopped fighting me and releases an agitated breath.
“Jocelyn has been planning a takeover for weeks, but I’ve kept out of it until she tried hiring me to kill Augusta. I refused.”
“Liar!” I cock my fist back.
“You really are a stubborn asshole...”
“Yeah, because I just got fucked!”
“We all did. Wake up, Miguel! I’ve known these women for years, and normally, I wouldn’t pick sides, but there is no way I could let Jocelyn kill her sister, so I went straight to Augusta and told her everything. She asked me to return and pretend to go along with it, but Jocelyn must have figured it out because I did not fire that shot! I was set up.”
I glare at him, studying his face and how his ebony pupils are an average size within his russet irises. No deception. Even the pulse in his neck is calm. I don’t want to believe him. Yet, deep down, I do. He helped us find Alma. That has to count for something.
“We need to get out of here,” Lucas says again.
Releasing a growl of a breath, I get to my feet, hauling Lucas with me. “Alright, fine. Maybe I believe you.”
“I’m not your enemy. Never have been. Now, let’s go.”
“Wait, where’s your rifle? Your gear?”
“I left it.” He begins jogging down the stairs.
“Shouldn’t we grab it?” I follow him. “The weapon could be traced back to you.”
Lucas laughs, “I’m not an amateur, Miguel. You think I’d use a gun registered to my name or not wear gloves?”
We reach the main floor, and it’s still a frenzy as guests haul ass to leave. The air is thick with smoke, burning my throat like my mom's habanero salsa, and we begin coughing but push forward. There’s the distant shrill of sirens as we spill out of the mansion, and people are escaping in droves on golf carts to get to the gate. Others go on foot. Lights flash down the street, so Lucas yanks me toward the left, and we dash across the lawn and leap over some bushes. We keep running until we dead-end with a wooden fence, where Lucas has to boost me over, thanks to my sorry ass being too sore to lift myself.
“Umph!” I grunt when we land on the other side, but Lucas doesn’t have time to lick his wounds and springs to his feet.
“Keep moving!” he barks and grabs the back of my coat like a lioness lifting her cub by the fur. “I’ve got a car around the corner.”
And by car, I thought he meant a getaway van. Instead, we climb into a red Mini Cooper with tinted windows and hot pink fuzzy seat covers. Seriously?
“What?” Lucas starts the engine.
“This isn’t very James Bond.”
“Exactly. The police won’t look twice at us driving past.”
And he’s right. We drive out of Golden Gate Park, leaving the chaos far behind us without a single head twisting our way—instead, police cars and a fire truck whip past us and straight for the mansion.
The escape almost feels too easy.
As soon as we arrive at the apartment, I hop out of the car, and Lucas speeds off before I can say thank you, which might be for the best. My entire body sags with a long exhale, dreading the trek up the stairs. What a night! It will take weeks, maybe even months, to process everything. I swing my suit jacket over my shoulder and take the first step. The only thing motivating me is knowing Angie is waiting upstairs.
The door swings open before I stick the key in the knob, and my baby is throwing her arms around me. I sink into her. She’s still wearing her dress, but her hair is now in a messy curly bun, and her makeup is smeared, so there is no doubt she’s been crying.
She pulls away to get a good look at me, then furrows her brows. "Your nose. It looks broken."
"It probably is. Lucas helped me reset it, though."
"Lucas?"
"It's a long story."
But not one I'm in the mood to tell right now. So, I hook my arm around Angie's waist, lift her, and walk inside the apartment. All I want is to stand under a hot shower with her pressed against my chest and let the water wash this entire damn night off.
However, we’re not alone, and my arms fall from her. Bishop and Sammy are on the couch, and he stands with hands clasped in front of him.
“So… the witch is dead,” he says.
And something about his blunt statement rubs a burn into the back of my neck. Augusta’s head exploded in front of me during an absolute shitshow, and I’m still processing what this could mean for the future. Especially Angie’s.
But it’s not just that.
Regardless of the awful things she did to me, Augusta didn't deserve to go out like that. There was some good in her. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have helped us find Alma, and she wouldn’t have given me a job that pays a better salary than I could ever imagine. Or pull strings so Angie can have her independence back.
But it’s all gone now.
“Yeah, she is…” I cross over to the kitchen and reach into the fridge for the water pitcher.
“Good,” Sammy says. “Now we can move into the next phase.”
“Next phase?” I pause from grabbing a glass from the cabinet. “Did you hire someone to kill Augusta?”
“No. The trash took itself out, which opened the door for us to step in.”
“Us?” I set the water pitcher down and look at him.
Why is he acting like he didn’t threaten to kill me earlier tonight? The toilet flushes down the hallway, drawing my attention. So, I step around the kitchen counter to get a glimpse.
“Franky here?” I ask Angie, but she hasn’t moved since I walked in and is picking at her nails.
Something is up…
The bathroom door squeaks open, and out walks an older man in a long peacoat with a fedora, looking like he just filmed an episode of The Sopranos. What the hell is going on here?
“Who are you?” I ask.
“Carmine Caruso.” He extends his hand, and I stare at it at first, then shift my gaze to Bishop. So this is her father?
“Hi.” I finally shake his hand.
“Carmine and I are going to take care of things from here,” Sammy says.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, you and Angie should have come to me instead of going to Augusta.
“Damn it, Sammy!” Angie barks. “I already told you that Miguel thought he was making the right move.”
“He got you wrapped up in some bullshit, is what he did.”
“Not true! I’m the one who got him sucked into all of this. I’m the one who wanted to use the Sisters from the very beginning. Not him.”
“That was different,” Sammy says.
“No, it wasn’t. And we talked about this. You don’t get to criticize how Miguel tried to protect me. Or threaten to kill him. Got it? He is off limits!”
“Yes, I know.” Sammy holds up his hands, surrendering. “But we’re getting off track. The entire point of all this is to say Carmine and I will take care of things as shit continues to roll downhill. You twos don’t gotta worry about a thing.”
Rubbing the back of my head, I say, “I’m more worried about Angie and her court hearing coming up. Augusta pulled the strings, but without her…”
“You think I don’t have my connections?” Sammy laughs. “You would have known if you had come to me first.”
“Sammy,” Angie warns.
“I’m just saying. Miguel is a wild card, and you must keep him in line.”
"I am not his mother." She glares and begins waving her finger. "I trust him more than anyone. Don't forget he saved my life tonight, so I don't want to hear any more digs at him, got it?"
"Noted." Sammy nods. “Anyway. Carmine and I are heading out. We have a lot to plan. The next phase will be tricky since his son is a cop with SFPD.”
“A cop?”
“Yeah, a dirty one,” Bishop snorts.
“Noelle.” Carmine glares at her.
“What? Mario is dirty.” She shrugs. “Richie Reddy used to slide him money under the table.”
“He’s still my son and your brother. We can straighten him out and bring him to our side, Noelle.”
“Dad, for the love of God. Nobody calls me by my real name.”
“I do.” Carmine points to his chest. “I’m not one of your military friends.”
“Whatever.” Bishop stands. “I have to get out of here and figure out how I’m getting Reina’s weapons back from the party. This whole thing is a mess.”
“And this is why having your brother on our side will make things easier,” Carmine says. “You should talk to him. Soften him up before Sammy and I get there.”
Bishop groans, “You know I can’t stand Mario. He's a wife-beating asshole.”
"Those allegations were dropped, Noelle."
"Yeah, because he probably bullied Hazel into dropping the charges," Bishop scoffs.
“Why does everything have to be an argument with you? Just talk to your brother.”
“Fine.” She rolls her eyes. “Anyway, it’s been real. I’m out.”
“We’re right behind you.” Sammy tugs on his jacket. “The city never sleeps, and we need to act fast before someone else, like the Cartel or Hellions, tries taking over.”
“Or Jocelyn,” I say.
“We’re not worried about Augusta’s little sister.” Sammy swings the door open. “We’ll be in touch. Meanwhile, you twos stay out of trouble.”
∆∆∆
The following morning, Angie and I distract ourselves by packing up some of our belongings. The new apartment is already paid for, so we might as well stick with the plan of moving in and deal with whatever happens at another time. Right now, we need a sense of normalcy after last night. I haven’t heard from Bernard, and I can only assume Augusta’s team has disbanded, and I’m now unemployed.
At least I still have Penthouse.
They’ll hire me back without a doubt.
“Jackson and Alma are bringing donuts.” Angie squeezes my butt, causing me to flinch. “So jumpy.”
“I was lost in thought.”
“About?”
My shoulders sag with a deep sigh, and I ease onto the edge of the bed. “Augusta was our way out, and now everything is uncertain, but it's not just that. She was shot right in front of me. I can't get the image out of my head or how warm her blood felt on my face when it splattered.”
“I know what you mean. I keep thinking about Jeremiah.”
“Why?”
“He was still breathing, which means he was burned alive.”
“Guess he learned what hell feels like.”
But Angie doesn’t find that funny and looks down. “I keep thinking about him coming to consciousness, but he can’t crawl out of the library because flames surround him, and he’s choking on smoke. It’s an awful way to die.”
“Angie…” I tilt her chin so she’ll look at me. “He had you bent over the railing with an arm pinned behind your back. You could have easily gone over, and maybe that was his plan. He doesn’t deserve your empathy. I’m glad that asshole is dead. It’s everything else that I’m worried about.”
Angie nestles her knees between mine and pushes my un-gelled hair out of my eyes before kissing my forehead. “Sammy will take care of us,” she whispers and searches my eyes. “You heard him. I know he won't let us down.”
“I just…” I take a deep breath. “I want you to be free. I want you to have Ana back.”
“And I will.”
There’s a knock at the door, which means Jackson and Alma are here, so Angie goes to the kitchen to make coffee while I open the door to invite our friends inside.
However, it’s not them waiting on the other side.
No, it’s Detective Shapiro and her partner, Detective Archibald.
Great.