Foster Carmichael’s lake house is actually kind of beautiful. At least the huge, open plan living area is anyway. My mom told me that her own mom decorated the place and I guess that’s where she got her good taste from.
I’ve never met either of my grandparents, but I’ve often wondered what they were like. My mom never, ever talks about them, but I guess I’m about to meet dear old Grandpa.
Jax and my father said that they’d be waiting for him at eight p.m. and it’s five to, so it shouldn’t be too much longer. The clock on the mantelpiece ticks softly and it’s the only sound that can be heard, apart from the soft breathing of the people sitting either side of me.
It’s the whooshing sound that I hear first, followed by the shattering of whatever glass object the bullet hit. I wince instinctively, even though I’m not in that room. I’m nowhere near it.
I’m sitting in an office with my mom and our friends, Jessie and Shane Ryan, in New York. Together, the four of us watch via a camera as the whole room is torn apart by bullets. Anyone in there would be incredibly lucky to have made it out alive.
I glance at my mom and see her wipe a tear from her cheek. She reaches for my hand and squeezes it tightly. I guess she thought maybe her father might have had a shred of decency left. He just proved that he doesn’t.
When the shooting stops, there’s the sound of boots stomping through the house.
“It’s clear,” a figure dressed in back shouts as he comes into view. Then at least half a dozen more come into view, holding automatic rifles as they move through the room.
The sound of feet running up stairs. “There’s no-one here.”
“It’s a trap.”
“It’s time,” Shane says and I press the designated key on the laptop. There’s a deafening explosion and the splintering of wood before the camera cuts off.
“Are you both okay?” Jessie asks.
“Yup,” I nod.
Although it feels kind of strange thinking about what happened in that room. All of those men believed that I was in there, along with my husband and father. If we had been my son would be an orphan. That kind of takes the breath from my lungs. But that was never the plan.
“I told him you would be in there. You and your father,” my mom says with a shake of her head.
“I know, Mom.”
“I mean, I was prepared to do this anyway after what he did to you and poor Bethany, but now…” she sucks in a breath and suddenly I feel sorry for Foster Carmichael. Alana Montoya doesn’t get pissed very often, but when she does — well, even Satan himself would move out of her way.
“How about I get Mikey to make you both one of his famous soothing hot chocolates while you wait for Alejandro and Jax,” Jessie says, pushing herself to her feet and taking her husband’s hand.
Well, he’s one of her husbands. She has four of them. The Ryan brothers have been friends of my father’s and Jax’s for years and they’ve kindly let us use their apartment and basement while we’re here in New York. I only met them at mine and Jax’s wedding less than two weeks ago, but I love all of them already. Especially Jessie, who’s just a few years older than me. We needed somewhere we could keep Matthias and the twins safe while we dealt with Foster Carmichael, and the Ryan’s basement also has the perfect place for the next stage of the plan.
“Sounds perfect, thank you,” my mom replies.
“Not a problem. Full disclosure though, the soothing part is Irish whiskey, just so you know.”
“Sounds even better,” my mom says with a smile.
Jessie and Shane walk out of the office leaving my mom and me alone.
“I was about to say that I can’t believe that he did that, but the really sad thing is that I can,” she says softly.
I don’t have a response for her. The truth is, it was my mom who told us all that her father was too smart to accept a request for a meeting without getting suspicious. This entire plan was her idea — well most of it. The double bluff.
A request for a meeting, no matter how it was done, would put Foster on high alert, given that he’s just extorted five million dollars from my father, and the fact that neither of my parents have spoken to him for five years. There was no way to do that and not raise his suspicion.
So my mom made him believe that she was betraying my father, telling Foster he was onto him and that he was setting him up. It would not only confirm that he was behind the extortion, but also make him think he was in the clear. A man who thinks he has vanquished his enemies is a much easier target than a man on the defensive.
So, earlier today, some of my father’s men drove to the lake house in Virginia, broke in, set up our camera and the explosives, closed the blinds and turned on the lights. Then they left two SUV’s outside to make it appear like there was someone there.
Meanwhile, my mom and I came here with the boys, while my father and Jax have been following Foster all day. They have a link to the camera at the lake house too and will know exactly what he tried to do and that they need to act fast before his hired guns don’t check in with him to tell him that the job is complete.
I sit back in my chair, confident in the knowledge, that right about now the man who tried to destroy our family will be in the capable hands of my husband and my father.
