Every moment that passes that Iâm not able to check my phone feels longer than the last. I need to check the cameras at the estate. I need to make sure the girls got into the panic room safely and turn off the override switch in the control panel. We only keep it on because Snow likes to lock herself in there and drink herself into oblivion on her particularly bad days, and now I regret not just letting her wallow in her own self-pity.
I didnât have to talk myself into being able to stay at the farm while the others went to hide out at the club because Angelo suggested I oversee the delivery. Itâs a test I wonât pass and one they wonât be around to see my fail.
The problem is they have an army of fucking men here with me and if I so much as think about pulling my phone out of my pocket, theyâre going to start asking questions. Every time I try to sneak out someone has a question for me, and I donât have any answers because this is not my ballpark. My area of expertise is computers. Itâs building shit and creating things that didnât exist before. Not human trafficking.
âHey boss,â a short, stubby man says. âHow should we split the girls when they arrive?â
I stare at him for a moment, because how the fuck should I know how to separate women who have been torn from their lives and sold like livestock? But I have to have an answer. âThis is my first shipment,â I tell him honestly. âDo they come with papers? Names? Ages?â
He nods, his brows pulled together with confusion. Heâs wondering why my uncles would leave me in charge when I have no fucking clue what Iâm doing, but I canât tell him theyâre testing me.
âOkay, good. I want them split by age.â There. That wasnât so bad. I mean, if I can separate the fact these are human women Iâm talking about, that is.
âYou got it.â He walks away quickly, and I lean back on the banister of the porch. Tommy and Rayne should be here soon, but I have no clue how Iâm going to communicate with them with so many guys around. I have no idea how tonight is going to play out at all, and honestly, all I can think about is Wynter.
The hurt and disgust in her eyes when she believed every word my uncles fed her makes me feel sick to the stomach even thinking about it. But itâs the imminent danger sheâs in right now because of me that has nausea rolling over me, and for the first time in years, thereâs nothing I can do to protect her. I canât follow her around on her date and threaten the guy in the bathrooms not to so much as touch her. I canât leak photos of the girls bullying her on the internet. And I sure as hell canât wrap her in cotton wool like I always wanted to.
âThe trucks will be here soon,â Dennis tells me. The man was one of my fatherâs men who jumped ship when the Saint James family overthrew him and has nothing but hate for the people I consider family. The few times Iâve been around for conversations about them, heâs made his distaste for them perfectly clear and it took everything I had not to pull my gun out and shoot him right between the fucking eyes. Wouldnât be the first time and certainly wouldnât be the last.
âThanks.â I give a tight smile and push away from the house, striding toward the three barns that have been built since the last time I was here. I declined a tour of the facilities earlier, deciding I donât have enough control of my anger right now to see the fucked-up stuff hiding behind those doors.
I briefly glance over my shoulder to make sure no one is watching me before quickly pulling my phone from my pocket and sending a text to Storm.
Elijah is coming for the girls. Get them in the panic room.
Once Iâve made sure thatâs sent, I open a group message with Rayne and Tommy and shoot them a text as well.
Shipment will arrive soon. Elijah has gone to the estate to get the girls.
I almost donât send the last part because Rayne might blow the whole mission at the idea Emerson in any danger, but I have to have faith heâll trust Storm to take care of her.
By the time I shove my phone back into my pocket, three black SUVs are coming down the driveway telling me the truck isnât far off. Thank fuck this is the last time I ever have to do this shit. I fucking hate pretending to be on this side, even if it does save innocent lives. The irony of that isnât lost on me. I work for one of the most infamous crime families in the country and Iâm talking about saving lives, but we have a conscience when it comes to women and children. Something that isnât even in the vocabulary of the people of my bloodline. The Saint James family arenât monsters like the Russos are. Theyâre good people involved in some shady shit.
The vibrating in my pocket almost makes me pull my phone back out, but itâs too risky. Messaging them in the first place was a risk I had to take, but I canât do it again. As hard as it may be, I have to pray Storm got himself and the girls to safety the moment the first sign of an attack started.