It feels like light-years since I was last in Golden Gate Park, and now I’m here again, in the passenger seat of Jackson’s truck, giving directions to the Abramovitz mansion. I wanted to come here alone, but given the situation with Alma, I couldn’t say no when he demanded to come.

When we arrive at the mansion, I’m surprised at how easy it is to get inside. For the entire drive, I ran through scenarios and explanations to get us past the gate, but now that we’re here, it only takes a few minutes for their security guard to alert the Sisters about our presence. 

We stand in awkward silence, and the guard must think we have selective vision because he begins picking his nose as if we can’t see that he’s knuckle deep in his right nostril. 

Finally, the gate slides open, and we’re allowed to pass.

However, it all feels too easy. And I should have planned our approach better instead of getting a wild hair up my ass to storm their castle. I’m still riled up from Alma being taken, Angie getting shot, and my fallout with Mindy. 

As we enter the mansion, the subtly of Jackson’s steps are as soft as an elephant stomping through the Congo while we follow behind a servant dressed in the stereotypical black garb with a white apron. She leads us through the foyer and down the stairs into the abyss I didn’t get to see last time. When we reach the bottom level, everything is bathed in dim chandelier light and paneled in maple wainscoting, but it’s clear this is some sitting room with its heavy velvet drapes and overstuffed chairs. 

The servant turns to us, a finger up to her lips, telling us to remain quiet, then proceeds to a partially open door to our left.

This is weird.

She slips behind the door, and my curious ass sneaks up to it, needing to know what's behind it. 

Augusta sits on the edge of a bed and spoon-feeds a man lying down with machines connected to him that beep and tick. It must be her father, given how Jocelyn said he’s paralyzed, and Sammy Blue Eyes alluded to making him that way. The servant bends and whispers, and Augusta’s hand pauses from sliding more food into her father's mouth, then her gaze snaps to the woman, a look of contempt in her eyes.

“Finish with him!” She demands, rising from the bed and storming over to the door. I leap back when she swings it open, then presses her hand against my sternum, walking me backward until I bump into Jackson. “You are not allowed down here! Go back upstairs, and wait in the sitting room. Am I clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Go!” she stabs her finger toward the stairs.

So we do as we’re told and wait within the crisp white walls of the sitting room, where wood logs flicker and snap in the brick fireplace. After a few minutes, we hear pleas and sobbing from the servant, and when we peak into the foyer, two guards have her by the arms as they escort her to the door with Augusta trailing behind them. Another guard opens the massive front door, and they toss her ass out, then slam the heavy wood shut. Augusta dusts her hands as if she personally threw the woman out. 

“Have Vivien begin interviews to replace Sarah,” she says to the guards. “I shouldn’t have to say this, but no one, and I mean no one, is allowed downstairs unless they are family or work for me. Am I understood?”

The guards agree, so Augusta turns and heads up the stairs. Not toward us in the sitting room. 

Ok… 

Guess we have more waiting to do.

So now we sit here like a couple of chumps, warming the cushions and waiting for the royal pain in my ass to grace us with her presence. But time is of the essence, and I’m not the only one eating their underwear with anxiety. Alma’s ex, Gino, has sunk his fangs into people I love, and he needs to pay for fucking with us. 

Tugging at my collar, I growl because why the hell does it feel like the damn amazon in here! 

I don’t like it. 

“What’s taking so long?” Jackson’s voice rumbles as he bites his nails. The man never bites his nails, so he must be a nervous wreck.

“All I know is, the Sisters operate at their pace. They don’t allow people to rush them.” 

Jackson shakes his head. “We don’t have time for this. We should have gone to Sammy first.” 

“We can’t go to him.”

“But he said if we ever need his help, to let him know.”

“I know, but this city belongs to the Sisters. So, if there are whisperings in their network about Gino taking Alma, they’ll know. You gotta trust me, Jacks.”

Standing, I pace to the fireplace and give my collar another tug. It’s too damn hot in here, and I swear the fire is giving off heat like a volcanic explosion. I wish I had water to splash on the logs. Instead, I tear off my leather jacket.

“Sit,” a stern voice says.

Whirling around, I see Augusta stepping into the room, her hands rubbing together like she just applied lotion. A waft of mandarin follows her as she walks to the oversized cream couches across from Jackson and sinks into the cold leather.

The rebellious part of me refuses to sit. Instead, I fold my arms. “You sure took your sweet damn time. We’ve been waiting for forty-five minutes.”

Augusta crosses one leg over the other and rests her hands on her thigh. As enraged as I am, I can’t help but notice how she’s wearing a silver silk robe with the belt loosely holding it closed and showing off the curvature of her breasts. This is not what she wore earlier. She must have showered.

For fucks sake.

“What brings you here?” she asks.

“We need your help.”

“Mine?” She lifts her brows. “Interesting, and also perfect timing.”

“Why is that?” Jackson asks, and Augusta’s gaze goes to him, her eyes appraising him like a cat to a mouse.

“Because I was about to have Niko send for Miguel.”

“Why?” I step forward, and Augusta shifts her scrutinizing gaze to me.

“Richie is still missing, and I don’t recall Kay telling me you’ve gotten rid of him already. So what is going on?” 

“I don’t know anything about that. We haven’t finalized our plans for him, and that’s not why we’re here.”

“Whatever is going on, you better not be lying to me. When you signed, you agreed to have Kay steer your team or whatever you want to call yourselves. Yet, Richie is still in the wind, and neither you or Kay knows what has become of him.”

A million thoughts rapidly fire in my head, but one, in particular, is the memory of Kay tossing Richie over his shoulder at Dr. Banaag’s house, and leaving with him. Then I think back on the night at Penthouse when I signed my soul to the she-devil, and Jocelyn warned me that Augusta wants Richie alive and me dead. I recall her saying she wouldn’t reveal to Augusta that I had Richie imprisoned in my mom’s basement.

So far, Jocelyn has kept her word and is protecting me, but there’s an icky feeling crawling up my spine. Something doesn’t feel right. 

“Are you sure?” I ask, and Augusta blinks slowly at me, unamused. 

“Do you honestly think, with my connections, I wouldn’t be the first to hear about something like this?”

“No.” I shake my head, but honestly, I could laugh, given the days I held Richie captive without her knowing. 

“Do you know Richie’s cousin, Rohan Reddy?” she asks.

“No.” 

But I did hear his name come out of the mouths of Sammy Blue and Dr. Banaag. So he must be someone worth knowing, but I won’t dare say that, though, and judging by Jackson’s silence, he’s following my lead.

“Rohan will be here later this afternoon to discuss taking over Richie’s position, and I’m giving him my blessing. The trouble is, for Rohan to take over, I need the assurance that Richie is gone, dead, and you were supposed to deliver that result for me, but you can't do that if know one knows where he is. So do you see the predicament we are in?” 

My brows furrow because this is the opposite of what Jocelyn told me, and she certainly never mentioned Rohan before.

“I do, and we will do our best to find Richie.” I motion between Jackson and myself. “But we need your help.”

“My help?” Augusta is amused as she rolls her eyes and uncrosses her legs before snapping her fingers. 

One of her many servants appears as if they’d been there the whole time waiting for the woman’s orders. 

“I’d like lunch served, and please have Walter make a serving for our guests.” 

“As you wish,” the short woman nods and pivots to Jackson and me. “Do you have any food allergies, gentlemen?”

“I’m not hungry,” I say.

“I’m not either…” Jackson mutters.

“They’ll also have wine with their meals,” Augusta says to the servant, then turns her attention back to me. “Walter made duck. The two of you will eat his duck.” 

“I don’t like du—”

“You will eat his duck,” she cuts me off, then motions to the couch in front of her. “Stop being so stubborn and sit.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Ah, I see. You believe that ‘squeaky wheels get greased.’ Well, that’s not how it works for me. You’ll get more flies with honey than with vinegar. Now sit. I’m not asking.”

“Or what?”

“Or I won’t entertain you any further.” She plucks a strand of hair from her robe, dusts her hands, then glances back at me with zero emotion. “I am a patient person, Miguel, but I also don’t have time to waste.”

“Miguel, sit!” Jackson tugs my shirt with a growl. So for him, I do.

Augusta lights a cigarette and then blows out the smoke. “So why do you boys need my help?”

“My girlfriend, Alma, has been abducted,” Jackson says.

“And why is that my concern?”

I clear my throat.“We hoped you could tap into your network for any whispers about a kidnapping.”

“Why would she come across my network?”

“Because.” Jackson scoots forward on the couch. “This isn’t the first time her ex-husband, Gino, has kidnapped her. He went to prison for it last time, but he just got out, and he used to be involved in some serious shit.”

“Like what?” Augusta cocks her brow, smoke streaming from her nose like a dragon as she flicks the ash from her cigarette into a glass tray on the coffee table.

“He was a runner for some motorcycle gang. Like picking up and delivering things across the border. Alma doesn’t know what exactly he would smuggle, but I get the feeling it was human trafficking.”

“I see…” Augusta blows out more smoke. “Trafficking interferes with Cartel business. Emilio Suarez doesn’t like that.”

“Who is Emilio Suarez?” I ask.

“A Cartel member and the number one drug supplier in the Bay Area. He is the man Richie wants to beat. But we don’t mess with Cartels.”

“Well, then. It sounds like we have a mutual cause. You help us find Alma, which will keep the Cartel out of your ass.”

Augusta laughs, “I’m not worried about the Cartel. We treat them well, so they give us respect by honoring our power and influence. Richie is the problem.”

“Agreed.”

“So…” Augusta blows smoke in Jackson’s direction. “You said Gino used to be a runner for a motorcycle gang. Which one?”

“I’m not sure.” He shrugs. “It was something like the Helicopters.”

“The Hellions,” she corrects him. “And my, what a small world we live in.” She pauses to flick ash from her cigarette, and it feels like she’s squeezing every last minute of our time with it. “Any guess why?”

“Why?”

“Your little friend Richie Reddy likes to think they answer to him. They help distribute his drugs for a cut of the profit.”

“Really…” Jackson and I nod slowly, our eyes meeting.

“I’ll tell you what, boys.” Augusta stubs out the cigarette and clasps her hands together over her knees. “I will help you find Alma, but I need you to find Richie and finish what you promised. I want Rohan to take his place. He is level-headed and doesn’t have ambitions to beat the Cartel. Richie is a ticking time bomb, and now that I know the Hellions are involved with human trafficking, I can’t have a war break out in San Francisco. Find Richie. Kill him. Leave Alma to me.”

“We can do that,” I say.

“Good. I’ll need to have a sit down with Emilio and put Alma on the radar, so I’ll be in touch within a few days.”

“Thank you,” Jackson says, his voice cracking. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Thank me once she’s found.”

“Augusta…” I squeak out, even though I should probably keep my mouth shut. “Why did you hire Mindy Arora to plan your party? Is it to hurt Richie?

“No.”

“Then why? Why hire her of all people?”

“You don’t have the right to question something like that, Miguel.”

“Like hell, I don’t. Mindy doesn’t deserve to be collateral in whatever game you’re playing.” But before I can continue any further, she cuts me off.

“Niko!” Augusta shouts and pierces me with a glare. I should have kept my mouth shut.

The last time I saw Niko, it was at Penthouse, and he pointed a gun at my head. When he enters the room, Augusta crosses over to him, and slides her hand inside his black suit jacket, then yanks the gun out of its leather holster. She whips the weapon towards me, and with the flick of her finger, a red laser light turns on. I’m guessing it’s aimed at my forehead.

“Don’t for a second think that because I agreed to help you boys with Alma, you can question what I do. I’ll put a bullet in your head just as quickly as one of my men. And if you don’t believe me, keep running your mouth.”

“Fine.” I hold up my hands. “I was out of line. I apologize.”

“Believe it or not, Miguel, I’m not a monster. I gave Mindy a real job, and she’s being paid handsomely. It has nothing to do with you or her piece of a shit ex-husband. She’s simply the best event planner for the job, and if you care about her, you’ll get out of her way.”

The silk robe is starting to slip off her shoulders as she strides up to me with the laser still aimed. But she doesn’t notice or at least doesn’t care. It could fall off entirely, and she probably wouldn’t bat an eyelash at being naked before us. Hell, she could stand in the middle of downtown giving orders, and I doubt anyone would dare look below her jawline out of fear. 

“Listen,” I say calmly. “The only reason I brought it up is that I love Mindy and want to protect her, even though she wants nothing to do with me right now. I worry about her safety, so forgive me for questioning your motive, but it came from a good place.”

The words tumble from my lips faster than I can comprehend them. Yet, it’s the absolute truth. Despite Mindy being livid, hurt, and pushing me away, I love her, and part of me still hopes that maybe somewhere down the line, when this is all over, she and I can try again. Maybe one day we can go back to our late nights drinking with the group, and I can wipe her tears when she cries about the things in life that plague her. I can be the person she leans on again.

“That’s lovely,” Augusta smirks and lowers the gun to her side, her eyes still burning into me. Then, Augusta glances at the expensive watch on her wrist as if bored with me. It has a thin band, matching the assortment of diamond-encrusted bangles paired with it. They clang and catch the light as she holds out the gun so Niko can take it from her.  

When she sits back down, Augusta sizes me up. There’s a twitch to her brow, but I can’t read what her expression says. Her servant-woman approaches the entry like a shy little mouse and clears her throat, causing Augusta’s attention to shift to her. 

“I’ve set the table, ma’am.” 

“Right on time.” Augusta stands and starts walking away. “Lunch is served, boys. Follow me.”

“I said I wasn’t hungry,” I grumble.

“And I said I wasn’t asking,” Augusta says as she weaves around the coffee table. “If you keep this up, I’ll have Bernard fling you over his shoulder and force-feed you like a toddler.”

With that, some Goliath-of-a-man pokes his head around the bend and glares at me. Jesus. These women have attack dogs everywhere. He’s not as tall as Kay, but he looks like the damn Michelin man with how muscular he is. One squeeze, and he’d flatten me like a tortilla. 

“For fucks sake,” I groan, and we follow Augusta’s retreating backside. 

This lunch better be finger-licking fantastic.

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I almost didn't finish this chapter in time, but I did it 😭🥳

Happy a great weekend, peeps ❤️