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Thirteen
Brennan
The Italian compoundon the docks was only a mile away, but there were more guards between us than there was distance.
Making our way there had been an effort in torture, but though I lived for this shit, I had to admit concern was riding me. We couldn’t use cars, not without triggering their cameras, and sneaking through alleys at this time of night was like asking for nightmares. Well, for a regular person. For someone like me, the horrors that went down in the shadows were my trade.
With every yard we breached of their territory, awareness hit me. TheFamigliawere in an all-out war with the Bratva, so they were bound to be armed to the max.
Getting in and out of this facility, even though I had recon info from one of our rats that Eagle Eyes was being stored in a small outhouse just off the main compound, was going to be hard as fuck.
Eoghan was already situated a few buildings across the way, and every now and then, I heard the telltale sound of his rifle firing.
Knowing him as well as I did, I had to figure that the fucker was picking off the right Italian cunts in the most strategic of areas.
With Conor in all our ears, I heard him mutter, “I’m into the mainframe. Just give me five minutes to take down the alarms.”
I rolled my eyes, but I didn’t reply. I knew he’d go as fast as he could without me giving him shit, even if giving him shit was usually what I did best.
I was hard on all my brothers for a reason—someone had to be. Someone had to be the buffer between my da and them. Aidan was too busy butting heads with him to see to our baby brothers, but I wasn’t.
Everyone had their place in their family, and mine was as the protector. That the fuckers didn’t know it didn’t matter.
I stretched my shoulders, even as I rubbed the small of my back. Getting old sucked. Ten years ago, I’d have been able to crouch here for a fucking lifetime. As it was, ten minutes longer and I’d probably have a fucking seizure.
I mean, I wasn’t ancient. Only thirty-nine, but Christ, the lives we led weren’t exactly easy on the body. Every morning, I woke up well aware of all the shit I’d gotten into in my years, thanks to the painful reminders as gunshot wounds and scars from stabbings made themselves known.
At the moment, it was the place at my hip where someone had sliced into me, not deep enough to fuck with my organs, but to fuck with the muscles.
Maybe I was too old for this shit, but you were only too old when you were dead. Da would be here, heading the raid if he could, and if Ma wouldn’t slay him first. In our world, the upper ranks never got soft. Even Finn and Conor, who rode desks, were men I’d want at my back in a gunfight. I knew Finn’s pride would be pricking at being left out, Aidan’s too, but Finn had a kid and Aidan was fucked on whatever his doctor was overprescribing him…
Our men were used to leadership actually fucking leading, especially out in the field, so I headed the small team, because after Eoghan, I was the one most at ease with this shit. I’d led enough raids to know how they worked, and to know that we were fucked if Conor couldn’t mess with their security systems and Eoghan wasn’t there, picking off soldiers from his position in his nest.
At my side, there was a twenty-foot tall brick wall topped with glass and barbed wire, behind it, there was the outhouse where Eagle Eyes was being stored. At the other side of the compound, waiting to rush in if we needed them, there were three more soldiers, and the two Hell’s Rebels bikers who I wanted as far away from the action as possible—dragging emotion into this shit was only going to make things a thousand times harder.
Just around the corner from where me, Declan, and a lieutenant, Jensen, were waiting, there was a small side entrance that Conor had to hack to find the code to enter.
That was the delay.
“Why’s he taking so long?”
I glared at nothing, not even bothering to turn around to snarl at Declan.
I wasn’t sure what was riding him tonight. He’d been on edge ever since he’d come into my office at the docks twenty minutes ago, and that wasn’t Declan. He was usually calm, and then when shit went down, buzzed. When he was in the zone, he could shoot cleaner than even Eoghan, which was a miracle in itself because I’d never come across anyone with my baby brother’s accuracy.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I muttered. “Drank too much caffeine?”
“He’s got a hard-on for Aela.”
Eoghan’s voice surprised me, because he tended to stay quiet during these raids.
“Fuck you, Eoghan.”
My lips twitched. Aela was one woman who Declan had under his skin. I wasn’t sure why he fought it. They were far more suited for one another than Declan and Deirdre had been. Still, there was no pulling the wool from over his eyes. The fucker would think what he wanted to.
“Why’s Aela here?” I asked, instead of telling him to get his head out of his ass.
“Apparently, she has an Acuig tatt on her wrist. The Hell’s Rebel girl recognized it and asked for help.”
