AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I press the call button, and it immediately crackles to life.
“Holy fuck, tell me this is a joke,” Eoghan says.
“It’s not. My house is surrounded,” I say calmly, feeling anything but.
“Alo?” Balor jumps on the line, sounding half astonished, half ready to rip someone a new one for hacking this line.
“It’s me, Darragh.”
“What’s wrong?” Balor asks, his voice getting low and sinister.
This is all his doing. All his design. Lachlan protects us with an army and armory, but Balor hides us, keeps us safe behind carefully constructed veils.
“His house is surrounded,” Eoghan answers for me.
“Just checking in,” I say sarcastically. “You didn’t send me any Russian mercenaries as a Thanksgiving Day present. Or a baby gift, did you, brothers?”
“No,” Eoghan says dryly.
“Mercenaries?” Balor asks with clicking sounds in the background. “I’m logging into your security footage.”
“Facial recognition,” Eoghan narrates for him.
I wonder why they’re so fucking calm when I have armed hitmen surrounding my house.
“Ana, Sophie, and the baby are in my safe room by the way,” I say bitterly. “Thanks for asking.”
“I assumed they were there,” Eoghan snaps back. “If I asked you where they were, you’d accuse me of thinking you’re stupid.”
“Yeah.” I guess he has a point.
They must know that despite living in my mafia-free bubble, I know the drill when I’m under attack.
Does Cormac?
He crashes into my mind, and I want to strangle him even more. Mostly because if this was any other situation, I’d expect him to be by my side. Helping me. All I did for him, and when I need help, I’m fucking all alone.
“Wait…” Balor says. “Seattle PD just pulled up in front of your house. Two cops in a marked cruiser are getting out.”
My heart pounds, picturing the bloodbath about to take place on my street. All the families readying for the holidays are about to be traumatized.
“Real cops, Balor? I don’t put anything past Alexei,” Eoghan asks.
“Whoever those mercenaries are, I don’t think they’re Bratva,” Balor says.
“Ana immediately pegged them for Russian.”
“There’s a difference. Siberian Mercs will work for anyone,” Balor says. “Right now, they’re cheap, ruthless killing machines who don’t hold allegiance to any family. Or nationality.”
A few muscles unclench, that not letting Ana near those animals was the right decision.
My mind wanders thinking of the Russians who live in this city. The Uber driver I insulted. Federov, who I sort of cursed out when he waltzed in from the golf course while I delivered my own son.
Russian. Not Bratva.
Fuck.
“Run the plates for that cop car, Balor,” Eoghan says calm and cool.
