Page 53 of A Captive Situation

I stepped away. Blood dripped to the floor from the knife in my hand. “Why?” I’d had no dealings with Lane. None.

My uncle hesitated, then sighed. “Because he’s one of us.”

I reared back. “One of us?”

“Our family. He’s a cousin. He’s got Worthing blood in him. I don’t know how he found out, but he’s one of us.”

“He grew up in Cincinnati. He’sfromCincinnati. He grew up in foster care.” No. Fuck that. “He grew up on the streets.”

“None of us were aware he was one of ours. Your aunt Taunti, she ran away when she was young. We never knew where she went, but he’s hers.”

Crispin was starting to wake. He moaned, his head falling backward.

“This is verified?”

“Yeah. All verified.”

“How long, Uncle? How long have you known?”

He was quiet again before surrendering, “He reached out two years ago.”

“Two years?”

Crispin’s groaning hit a high note. His head was rolling from side to side.

Penn grunted from the floor. From the angle he’d ended at after my kick, and from his weight, he couldn’t do much except try to flail around.

Creighton Lane was a one-man tsunami. He ran the entire city from the street to the elected officials. They were all under his control, and how he’d managed it wasn’t quite known, but he had an iron-tight grip on that city.

“What does he want?” I asked.

“What do you think he wants? He wants to take over.”

Understanding was starting to click into place. “He would’ve come in with demands. Our current head had just died—” Nicolai.

“We—we did what we thought we needed to do. When we heard you were resigning, we thought it was perfect.”

“You wanted me to handle this problem for you.”

“I mean, you’re the organized crime pig. If anyone knows how to take someone out like Creighton Lane, it’d be you. Am I right? I’m right. You’re the guy. You’reourguy.”

“I’m your guy?” I echoed, softly. Those were similar words to another time he spoke to me.

You’re going to be our executioner, Jake. Our guy. Our little assassin.

Penn was eyeing me warily.

“Yeah. Our guy.” My uncle laughed, forcing it. “Right? You can handle him.”

A whole storm was stirring inside of me. One where I yearned to reach through the phone to rip my uncle’s head off his neck and bathe in his blood. It was angry, churning, andhungry. I was one person, offered up on a platter by the people who shared my blood, and they’d put me in the path of a monster like Creighton Lane.

I was seething, until a decision came to me. Instant calmness settled over me, soothing everything out. I knew now what I needed to do.

I must’ve been quiet for too long because my uncle said, “Jacob?”

I raised the phone up to my mouth and spoke directly into it. “Start packing, Uncle. After I deal with Lane, I’m going to clean house, and I’ll start with yours. I’m coming for you.”

I put the knife down and picked up the gun, aiming.

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