“She’s a thief, Devon,” Grant replied, the sneer a little louder this time. “You and Felix might have forgotten that, but I haven’t.”

“Lila is more than just a thief.”

“Why?” Grant asked. “Because you want to get into her pants? Don’t be stupid. That girl is nothing but trouble. The only reason she’s probably still at the mansion is that she’s casing the place and trying to figure out what she can take with her when she goes.”

Devon shook his head. “Lila’s not like that. Yeah, she’s a thief. But she wouldn’t steal from the Family. Not now.”

“Whatever,” Grant muttered. “If she’s not here in five minutes, we’re leaving without her.”

I didn’t see anyone lurking in the shadows, so I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text to Felix.

Grant behind attacks. With Devon right now @ the car.

Call Mo. He’ll know what to do.

Then I put my phone on silent, slid it into that slot on my belt again, and started creeping forward. I could have called out to Devon, but I was betting that Grant had at least one weapon, maybe more, and I didn’t want to risk his hurting Devon—

“You know,” Grant said. “I’ve been waiting for this night for a long, long time.”

“Oh yeah? Why is that?”

He grinned. “So I could finally do this.”

I rushed forward, even though I knew I was going to be too late.

Grant pulled a dagger out from the small of his back. Before I could scream out a warning, Grant whipped around, raised the weapon high, and brought it down, aiming at Devon’s chest.

But Devon must have seen the glint of the metal because he raised his hands, blocking the attack.

“Grant? What the hell, man?” Devon asked, his voice full of shock.

Grant let out an angry snarl, snapped up his fist, and punched Devon in the face. Dazed, Devon staggered back against the SUV, and Grant raised his dagger again.

But this time, I was there to help Devon.

I put my shoulder down and slammed into Grant from the side, knocking him away from Devon, making him land on his ass on the pavement. The dagger clattered to the ground, and I stepped forward and kicked it away. Then I went over to Devon.

“Are you okay?”

Devon shook off his daze and straightened back up. “Yeah, I’m fine. What’s going on?”

“I think we should let Grant explain that.”

We both looked at Grant, who had gotten back onto his feet. His face darkened at the sight of me.

“You,” he muttered. “I should have known that you would show up and ruin everything. Again. You just can’t leave well enough alone, can you?”

I bared my teeth at him. “What can I say? It’s a bad habit of mine.”

“Grant, what are you doing?” Devon asked.

Grant let out a harsh, bitter laugh.

I scanned the parking lot again, searching for guards that Grant might have hired to help him. I didn’t spot anyone, but I still felt like I was missing something. Hopefully, Felix, Claudia, and Mo were on their way here right now.

Grant finally quit laughing. “What am I doing? I’m finally taking what should have been mine all along.”

“And what would that be?” Devon asked.

Grant’s eyes narrowed. “My place as second-in-command of the Sinclair Family.”

“But you’re the broker,” Devon said, still confused. “You have more money and just as much power as I do. So why would you want to be me?”

“Because then, after I kill your mom, everyone will naturally turn to me to be the new head of the Family.”

Devon sucked in a breath at Grant’s matter-of-fact tone.

Grant gave him another evil smile. “Something that your compulsion Talent will help make that much easier.”

“So you’re the one who’s been behind the attacks on Devon?” I asked, trying to keep him talking, trying to give the others time to find us.

I also put my hand on Devon’s shoulder and slowly inched to the left, taking him with me. I wanted to put as much distance between us and Grant as possible, in case he had another weapon.

“Of course, it was me,” Grant sneered. “No one else in the Family has the brains to pull off something like this.”

Devon sucked in another breath. “You—you were the one who arranged the attack at the pawnshop? You’re the one who gave those men orders to kill Ashley?”

“Oh, I didn’t just give the order. I killed her myself.” Grant’s face twisted. “The same way I killed your father.”

I frowned, wondering if Grant was lying. Because the mystery man had killed Ashley, not him. Unless . . . he was the mystery man. But how was that possible?

Devon surged forward, but I dug my fingers into his shoulder, warning him to stay back.

“Why?” He choked out the word, his hands clenching into tight fists. “Why did you kill my dad? What did he ever do to you?”

“Because he chose you to be the Family bruiser instead of me,” Grant hissed. “I was his right-hand man. I was older. I had more experience. But he told me that I wasn’t a good enough fighter, that I wasn’t as good a leader as his precious son. He made me broker as a consolation prize. Well, it wasn’t enough.”

“And you think this will be?” I asked.

Grant blinked, as if he was just now noticing that Devon and I were still easing away from him. But instead of coming after us, he gave me another smirk, as though I was doing exactly what he wanted me to. I frowned again. Why would he be looking at me like that? Where were the men he should have with him? What was he up to?