The wordfuneralhits me like a cheap shot.
“Thanks a lot,” I mumble as I climb out and look down at the map on my phone as he drives away. I should be staring at the route, but all I can see in my mind’s eye is my brother’s casket being slid into a vault at the mausoleum. It took a decent chunk of my payment from that first sculpture I sold to Valentina to pay for everything, but regardless of how badly Rafe had screwed up in this life, he deserved to be honored in death.
Blinking back tears, I force myself to walk in the direction of the warehouse.
The dark SUV idles slowly behind me as I walk.Super covert.I snort-laugh to myself because it’s better than giving in to the tears that want to slip down my cheeks.
With every footstep, I brace myself for what’s coming next.
I can do this.
It’s just a building. That’s all it is. A pile of bricks and steel beams full of metal and lies.
I grit my teeth and keep pushing forward. When I stop in front of what appears to be the right building on the map—one with no address—I approach the door.
This could be it. I look over my shoulder at the SUV as it pulls into the parking lot of the building across the street.
What the hell does that mean?That I’m at the wrong building? Or that whoever is driving doesn’t want to draw attention by being parked in front of the right one?
My temper flares as I reach into my pocket and pull out the keys. I jab one into the lock and it slides home.
I steady myself before turning it. The bolt slides. With all my courage shored up, I twist the handle ... and it doesn’t budge.
“Are you fucking kidding me!” I kick the door with one of my steel-toed work boots and instantly regret it as pain shoots up my leg.
“How the hell am I supposed to get in then, huh?” I yell the question to the universe, wanting to punch something next, but not dumb enough—or male enough—to do it.
That’s when I spot the box. It’s dark blue and it matches the overhead garage door. There’s a padlock on it, but no place to insert a key.
Great. Super-spy technology for the super-secretive hit man.
Fuck you, Kane. Every time I say his name, even in my head, another spike feels like it’s been jammed through my belly.
I’m not saying his name anymore. I’m done.
I grasp the padlock between my thumb and index finger. As I twist it from side to side, the shank opens.
“What the hell?” I unhook it from the box and look down at the flat front.It’s a fingerprint reader.And itknows my fingerprint.
He planned this too.
The knowledge is another fist to the gut that almost doubles me over.
He knew I’d come here without him.I bury the tears and betrayal and open the box to find a keypad.
Fucking great.Like I know some magic combination to get inside.
I don’t even know his goddamned birthday.
More pain.
Blindly, I punch in the only thing I can think of—my birthday.
The fucking overhead door moves. A single tear tracks down my cheek as more well in my eyes, blinding me to the beautiful cars inside as I slam the cover closed and relock it.
It takes everything I have to walk inside.
One foot in front of the other. Right. Left. Right. Left.