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I stared at the chair, wondering if it was easier to just heft the chair and carry him that way, but would that take longer?
No time to think, I moved around, shoved my shoulder into his gut, and hoisted him over it.
His cry of pain had me grimacing, but I managed to balance myself with his weight on me.
“Movement by the main compound,” Eoghan stated, his voice clinical as hell, his control reined in once more.
Pops sounded, but I heard activity humming to life like the Italians had finally realized something wasn’t right, and in my ear, I heard sharp muttering as the bees began to buzz.
Acclimating to my new balance, I ground out, “Declan, Jensen, move.”
I should have expected it.
Jensen moved out the door first, gun raised, but it was too late.
Declan was at his back, and the bullets that tore through a fucking good lieutenant slammed into my baby brother.
Even as terror filled me, fucking fury overwhelmed it.
I heard the pops, knew Eoghan had gotten there, but it was too fucking late.
“Need back up,” I said calmly, even as I kept my eyes trained on Declan all the while.
He grimaced, his hand coming up to cover his chest, and the damage was…
Fuck.
“Need. Back. Up,” I snarled.
I heard boots, quickly looked, saw it was our men and the bikers, and watched as Kilkenny hauled my brother onto his shoulder like I had Eagle Eyes, and McNamara grabbed Jensen even though it was too late for him—we never left a man behind.
“He okay?” Eagle Eyes asked softly, knowing something had gone down.
“One dead, my brother was hit.”
My voice sounded calm, too calm. I was anything but.
Inside, the panic was clawing at me, and the horror at letting my baby bro get fucking hurt on my watch was starting to overrun my senses.
But I didn’t have time to let it get to me. I was in enemy territory.
“Ink,” one of the brothers rasped.
“Keys? Get the fuck out of here. Now!” the guy barked, sounding way too put together to be believed.
“Forty seconds until things get really FUBAR,” Conor muttered, though I could hear the tension in his voice too.
The bikers took off, their boots pounding into the concrete as I surged forward, running flat out, aware the others were doing the same.
As we made it out, I felt Eagle Eyes reach for something, and was stunned when I heard the blast of a gun and recognized he’d pulled the weapon from my waistband.
He also slammed the outer door shut behind him, making him a very useful hostage victim.
The fuck? In his state? Jesus.
As I ran around the corner where we’d hidden earlier, I saw two cars there waiting. The first had McNamara and Jensen in it, the bikers too, the second had Conor in the passenger seat, and Hutchins, a soldier, behind the wheel. I shoved Eagle Eyes in, he shuffled next to Declan, and the second I could shut the door behind me, Hutchins took off.
As we spun out of the alley, gunshots flew wild, and I was fucking grateful for the license plates on the vehicles—Bratva owned and Mob stolen.
As we raced out of there, bullets flying, I turned to my baby bro and saw his eyes were closed.
My fists furled into tight balls in my lap, and I saw Conor looking at me over his shoulder.
“Get us to the ER,” I grated out, and Hutchins, being the smart fucker he was, obeyed and drove twice over the speed limits.
