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Seeing the cold, harsh interior of Laura Gaines' LA mansion, tonight only solidified for me that I’m not cut out for life behind that kind of wealth. Forthatlife.
And her daughter’s not cut out for mine.
The streets are quiet tonight. Damn near silent as I unlock the front door to the house.
I pause at the front door. The crickets are quiet.
Someone’s watching me.
Carefully, I unlock the door, and step inside, watching my back as I go, but no one’s there.
But it’s when I turn around and notice the light over the stove is off that I fucking know, someone’s here.
A throat clears behind me and I reach for the gun at my back before the deafening sound of a pistol clicks only inches from the back of my head.
And then I notice all the fucking people coming out of the dark shadows of my house.
Well, fuck.
“On the ground.” Someone shoves me down, and I go, falling to my knees with a grunt.
“Got to hand it to you, it’s not easy to surprise me.”
A chuckle sounds from behind me, and the cold steel of a barrel presses to the back of my head.
“Want to tell me what you want?”
The gun is pressed harder to my head as a warning.
“Move an inch, and this bullet goes through your skull.”
“Funnily enough, you’re the second person who’s threatened to kill me tonight. And she was actually dangerous.”
A fist connects with my mouth, and I snarl through the blood staining my gums.
“What’s the matter?” A man chuckles from the shadows. His heavy boots scuff along my floor, black eyes glinting in the night. He flashes a smile, teeth shining menacingly in the moonlight streaming through the window. He pauses in the center of the room as more men step from the darkness. “You don’t look happy to see me?”
“Not ready for guests. Didn’t even get the punch bowl out.”
The man just snickers, ignoring my taunt as the room chuckles around me.
“Él es chistoso.”
More demented laughter sounds through the room.
“I think you and I are going to get along just fine, Mason Carpenter. Don’t you?”
“I’m pretty hard to get along with.”
The devil in front of me chuckles.
“So it seems.” He kneels down in front of me, his voice dropping to a quiet growl. “Pity, you pissed off the wrong person.”
Michael
“Mom, stop!”
“This is for your own good, Hannah!” Laura drags Hannah by the hair at the crown of her head toward the doorway at the very back of the basement in the Sacramento estate the governor calls home.
