Deviant Hearts: Chapter 32

The blackness in my heart is as dark as the night as I stare at the front of Jack’s apartment building. The last shred of my self-control tried to convince the rest of me not to bring a gun. But fuck that.

Still, as I reach into my jacket to finger the 9mm in its holster, I know it’ll mostly be for the intimidation factor.

If I kill this motherfucker for putting his hands on my wife tonight, it’ll be exactly how promised I would: via a fucking window.

Yet, deep down, I know there’s got to be something else going on here. Maybe some women would react this way—run off to some other guy the second there’s one slight misunderstanding. But not Neve.

She might be tempestuous. She might be a force of fucking nature, like a goddamn hurricane, when she gets angry.

But this isn’t her. I know my wife. I know her maybe even better than she knows herself, and this doesn’t check out. Plus, there was the whole thing with her weird behavior on the phone before she even found those goddamn panties in our bathroom.

No. Something’s up. Something’s potentially very wrong, too. Well. Whatever it is, I’m about to find out.

Before I head in, I march over to the black SUV where two of my guys—the ones who called Hades—are camped out after tailing Neve and Jack here. I’m sure Hades is on his way too, despite me warning him to stay away.

Probably to make sure I don’t do something incredibly dumb like killing Jack in full view of a security camera or a cop or something.

No promises on that yet.

But Hades isn’t here yet. Good. I want it to stay that way.

I sidle up close to the open window of the passenger door, still keeping an eye on Jack’s building.

“Both of you stay out here. If my brother shows up, keep him out here. Is that understood?”

When neither of them answers me, my brow furrows as I drag my gaze away from the fucker’s building.

“I said, is that fucking—”

Oh fuck.

Both men are still buckled into their seats, their chins limp against their chests…

…with wet, glistening blood slicked across their slit throats and soaking the fronts of their shirts.

I bolt instantly, rushing to the front door of Jack’s building as the low whine of an alarm blares. I smash in the front door with a heel against the lock and go charging in.

One of the first-floor apartment doors yanks open, and a grizzled older guy charges out brandishing a baseball bat with a Mets logo emblazoned on it. When he sees the gun in my hand, he stiffens.

“Look, pal, I don’t want any—”

“Jack—” I snarl, realizing I have no idea what the motherfucker’s last name is. “The hipster bartender fuckhead,” I hiss. “Where.”

The man nods quickly, pointing his bat up the staircase. “Third floor! Number three-oh-seven!”

I run up the stairs two at a time, cold, naked fear slicing through my veins. I charge down the hall and hit Jack’s door with my full weight behind my shoulder, splintering it open. I freeze as I spill inside and I see—

Oh, Christ.

There are three bodies on the floor. Blood is pooling under all three of them and is splattered against the wall behind them.

Jack, Mike Jennings, and Councilman Greg Leery.

“NEVE!”

I roar as I stumble through the tiny apartment. But there’s no sign of her. Not in the bedroom, or the closet-sized bathroom, or the tiny kitchen nook.

She’s not here.

I’m seeing red and my vision is blurred as I yank out my phone and dial her number. I hear it ring, and my heart drops when I spot her phone lighting up on the floor alongside her keys, surrounded by the pool of blood.

Fuck.

When I hear the creak of footsteps behind me, I snap out of my cold fear in a nanosecond. I whirl, teeth bared and gun raised, only to come face-to-face with Castle.

His eyes leave mine to stare at the carnage behind me.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he breathes. His gaze snaps back to me, his eyes wary. “You?”

I slowly shake my head.

Castle frowns. “You can lower your fucking gun now, Ares.”

I keep it right where it is, trained on him.

“What are you doing here, and how did you get here so fast?”

His lips curl.

“Take it easy. I gave her a panic button for her keyring back when she was still in high school. It sends an alert to my phone. She pushed it ten minutes ago.”

My nostrils flare. Fury mixed with naked, all-consuming fear for Neve’s safety and well-being cloud my vision and dull my senses until I realize Castle is barking my name.

“I said ARES!”

I blink, ripping myself out of the haze.

“I am not your enemy, Ares,” he hisses. “Lower the gun, and let’s find her.”

I swallow and my hand drops to my side just as footsteps thunder up the stairs. Castle and I both spin and crouch behind the doorway with guns out. Suddenly Hades, Kratos, and Cillian come charging into the apartment, with Owen Foley wheezing in after them.

Cillian stops cold, staring at the bodies. Slowly, his gaze rips to me.

“Where the fuck is my niece, Ares?”

My lips thin. “I don’t know. But I’m about to tear this fucking city apart to find her.” I turn to my brothers. “Everybody out. I want this entire goddamn city turned upside and inside out. Break down doors. Use whatever force you have to.”

“We’ll find her,” Hades growls.

“I’ve got men pulling up downstairs now,” Cillian snarls. “Tell them I told you this is a code red. They’ll give you whatever assistance you need.”

Kratos and Hades bolt out of the apartment. I turn to Cillian.

“That FBI friend of yours… Just how much power does he wield?”

“What do you need?” Cillian murmurs.

“I need him to shut down every single exit point in the fucking city. I want cops or agents at every fucking bridge and tunnel. Treat it like a full-scale missing person alert where the missing person is the fucking President of the United States.”

Cillian nods grimly before he and Castle run after my brothers. I’m about to leave too when a hand lands on my arm.

“Ares, a moment?”

I turn to grit my teeth at Owen.

“I don’t have a fucking moment. In case you missed it, someone’s just kidnapped my fucking wife—”

“Which is precisely why you need to hear this.” Owen’s eyes dart to the open doorway. “I didn’t want to say this in front of your brothers and risk anger clouding their ability to get Neve back safe and sound. Or in front of Cillian, for the same reason.”

“Arrive at the fucking point, Owen,” I snarl.

“Do you know where Ezio Adamos is?”

I stare at him, going cold.

“Right now at this very moment, I mean.”

“I have no goddamn idea.”

Owen swallows. “Indeed. Ares, I’m sorry to say this, but I believe Ezio was working with Seamus.”

I stare at him. “That’s impossible.”

“As Cillian mentioned, I’m friendly with a certain Homeland Security officer who owes me a few favors…”

“And?” I snap.

“And the two men who escaped with Seamus and wound up dead had recently received money into offshore accounts—a million each.” He watches my eyes carefully. “Both deposits came from shell companies owned by the Adamos family.”

Everything goes still. A ringing sound begins to whine in my ears as my blood turns to fire.

“Then we’ll start at Ezio’s house,” I hiss.

Where I’m going to cut off his fucking skin.

I whirl towards the door.

“Ares, there’s actually something else you need to know.”

I turn back to see Owen looking even more pale.

“What?”

He swallows. “About an hour ago, NYPD responded to a call from a restaurant next to a tattoo parlor in the Lower East Side, complaining about a smell.”

Owen swallows again and clears his throat.

“They found two bodies. They’d been dead about two weeks.”

“Owen, how the fuck is this relevant?”

He continues on, as if I hadn’t said a word. “The tattoo artist was tied up crucifixion-style and had been bled out from cuts to his wrists and neck.”

My pulse thuds.

“And the second body was an older man—bound…gagged…” Owen’s lips draw to a line. “And missing a hand.”

Reality punches me in the face. I stare at Owen, then at the bodies on floor, as the ground gives way beneath my feet. All three bodies with neat, execution-style shots right through the center of the forehead, with a second shot through the back of the head after they were down for good measure.

Clean kills.

Professional kills.

Holy fuck.

That monster isn’t dead at all. And now, he’s come back to finish what he was stopped from doing years ago to the woman I love.

“We need to go, now.”

I start to make for the door.

“Oh, Ares. One last thing.”

The metal pierces my neck just as I glance back at Owen. My eyelids flutter and my mouth goes slack as something cold begins to instantly drag me down. Owen steps away from me, the syringe still in his hand as I sag against the door frame.

“What…the…fuck…”

“You look tired, Ares,” Owen says meditatively. “I think all this stress is getting to you.”

“Motherfucker…”

“I think you’d better lie down.”

The whole apartment goes sideways as my legs give way.

I’m out before I hit the ground.