Page 96 of Three
“What murder?” Ollie asks.
Ramiel begins retelling the events of the last few days as I put the bowl in the sink and take a seat next to him. This whole situation is bizarre. When Ramiel told me they are a family of vigilantes, it felt weird, but seeing how present and ready they are for each other makes me rethink my first impression. Maybe their actions are fucked up, but we live in a fucked-up world where kids are abandoned, weaker people hurt, and power and money seem to be the highest achievement there is. Corruption, selfishness, carelessness, and wrongdoing reign free while integrity, respect, and all the values that make a person decent seem to come second. Is this group of men a combative response to all of that? A way to balance the unfairness of this world? They’d be the best one. Because fighting fair rarely works.
“That sounds like a mega clusterfuck of a mess,” Michael comments excitedly when Ramiel is done.
“Or as we call it at the firm, Monday,” Lori jokes, flattening his skirt as he sits on the armchair. Is that gold glitter in his curls?
“If we believe the Vulture and someone indeed requested Hunter’s assassination, how come hitmen are not coming here?” Gabe asks from his standing position near the kitchen cabinets.
“This house is not in his name. It wasn’t easy to find it, even for me,” Ramiel explains.
I need to thank my mother for never putting my father’s name on my birth certificate, then.
“The Baker little brother, should we grab him? Maybe he knows something,” Uri suggests.
“I worked on him twice. Didn’t know anything. He would have told me, believe me.” I crack my knuckles.
“I like you,” Rague tells me, and Ollie echoes his husband.
“You’re okay.” Uri shrugs.
“More than okay.” Lori snorts.
“Yeah,” Michael utters, and Raph grunts unhappily and whispers something in his husband’s ear.
I certainly don’t need the brothers’ blessing, but Ramiel is giving me a dopey smile, looking so proud of me, like I’ve overcome an insurmountable obstacle. And fuck, it’s like a well-placed hook to the gut. His radiance surrounds him, pulling me toward him even more. I don’t fight it. A possessive growl rumbles in my chest, and I give his beautiful scarred hand a quick kiss.
“Something doesn’t add up. Either your cousin is in this, or she’s in trouble. Serena, did you find her car?” Uri suddenly asks.
“Not yet, Uri,” the AI replies.
I sent Opal three texts and tried to call her, but it went straight to voicemail again. Where is she? Could she really be part of this? If not in, what trouble is she in?
“It’s not her.” I grip Ramiel’s hand tighter, trying to fight the unease and the apprehension forming inside my chest, even though he’s stroking my palm in that soothing way of his.
“Still can’t take her off the suspect list. Who else?” Raph speaks in his self-assured way.
“The other cousin?” Michael suggests.
“Jasper Penn,” Gabe declares while tapping on his phone.
“A politician with an ex-con for a cousin who murdered his pedophile brother doesn’t scream trustworthy,” Raph voices what everybody is thinking. It still makes me wince inwardly.
“That’s soap-opera crazy,” I hear Ollie’s whisper from the phone.
“Bloody ghastly,” Lori comments much louder.
“You’re such a tactless fucker!” Ramiel bites out, looking at Raph. His brother’s empty green eyes jump to mine for a moment. There’s no remorse there, but I make sure he sees the lack of sympathy in mine. Then Michael grabs his face and animatedly starts whispering something to him. Raph’s expression turns warm just before he kisses an irritated-looking Michael.
“I crossed paths with Jasper Penn at some fundraisers; it helps his image for his senatorial campaign.” Gabe makes me turn my attention to him.
“We cross paths with a lot of people at those events.” Uri has put the knife back inside his stylish coat and is now checking his perfectly manicured nails.
“Serena, show me all the fundraisers Jasper Penn went to.” Ramiel lets go of my hand to leave the chair and move toward the white wall near my desk, which is now filled with pictures of my cousin smiling or talking with elegant people at different events. I follow him, intrigued by the new tech he installed in my house. On the wall, there’re also the names of all the guests and employees who were present at each event, a list of the charities, documents with details of the donations, and more pictures.
“Also look for a link, anything peculiar.”
“Or recurrent,” Uri interjects.
