“I don’t want to go,” she said, her voice wavering. “I love-”
“Stop.”
He turned away. He couldn’t stick around and let himself believe that she’d want to stay with him after what he told her. Leaving her in the living room, he headed to his bedroom to make the arrangements. She’d be gone tomorrow.
* * *
The house was quiet as Brogan and Declan approached it from the rear. The place was even bigger than he thought up close, and he wondered if this place was Leo’s permanent home.
There were three men behind them and Owen was approaching from the front with a half dozen other men.
It was just after midnight, and they’d waited this long in hopes of taking advantage of the element of surprise. He’d guess that it worked since the house was dark.
He had a glock in his hand, and as they got close, Declan stepped forward first. He reached the backdoor and moved to one side. Brogan went to the other side. The rest of their men crowded onto the back porch, and Brogan checked his watch.
“Thirty seconds,” he said. They’d coordinated this down to the last detail. The element of surprise was their most powerful advantage.
When the time came, Declan kicked open the back door, knowing that Owen was doing the same thing on the opposite end of the house.
Brogan was the first to rush inside, his eyes darting around. They were in a family room, with couches and a tall ceiling. There was a skylight, allowing some moonlight to come in. It was barely enough to illuminate the room, but Brogan made out movement directly ahead in the darkness before someone flicked on a light.
The sudden brightness made him wince, and he nearly missed the gun being raised by a man in the corner of the room. Diving behind the couch just in time, he barely had the chance to wrap his mind around what was happening before bullets were flying above him.
The Italians were waiting for them. It was a fucking ambush.
But how did they know they were coming? He was sure that he wasn’t spotted when he was tailing Matteo, but maybe he was wrong.
Or they had a traitor within the organization that tipped them off.
It didn’t matter right now. As he heard a body drop behind him, Brogan felt white hot rage boil up inside of him. These fuckers were going to pay.
Pulling out a second gun, he held one in each hand as he popped up from behind the couch. Like every other time he’d been in a life or death situation, Brogan’s brain turned off and he reacted on instinct. There were Italian’s everywhere, and he was in a vulnerable spot. Moving through the room, he just hoped that the men with him would provide enough of a distraction to keep him from getting his head blown off.
He picked off a man in the doorway to the kitchen and found himself in a hallway. There were shouts and more shooting ahead, and when Brogan reached a foyer, he found Owen crouching by a staircase, shooting at someone hiding around the corner to the dining room.
“They knew we were coming,” he shouted. Brogan just nodded. Men came charging down the stairs then, and there was no time to talk or strategize.
Brogan was vicious in the fight that ensued. He’d had one hell of a shitty day already, having sent Amy away this afternoon, and he was more than happy to take it out on these assholes. He used his guns until they were empty, taking out the man in the dining room in the process. As he went in that direction, noticed that the sounds of shooting were decreasing elsewhere in the house. Suddenly a man tackled him from behind, taking Brogan down to the floor. He flipped himself over immediately, throwing a punch at the guy. It connected and Brogan was about to land another blow when his vision on the right went dark.
Swiping his hand over his eye, he realized it was blood. He’d hit his head when he was taken down to the floor.
No time to worry about that now. The big guy was on top of him again. Brogan pulled a knife, but his head injury made him slow, and the guy saw it in time to grab Brogan’s wrist and slam it into the ground. Pain shot up his arm, and he released the damn knife.
The man had it in his hand, but Brogan wasn’t done yet. Managing to lift a leg, he landed a kick to the man’s chest, sending him flying backward. But he slashed out as he went, putting a long gash into the side of Brogan’s thigh.
He cried out in pain, but he could get to his ankle holster now. There was a small gun there, but it would do. Pointing it at the big guy, he squeezed the trigger.
With the threat gone and no one else in the dining room, he rolled back onto his back to catch his breath. His head swam and he reached up to feel the wound. He flinched as his fingers brushed over a painful spot just above his temple. He could feel the blood pumping out of his leg, but before he could decide what to do about it, Connor was leaning over him.
“Fuck, Brogan,” he muttered. “You got yourself all kinds of fucked up.”
“Leo? Did we get him?” Brogan asked, even as his vision started to get dark. He was probably losing too much blood.
Amy would know what to do.
He pushed that thought aside. It wasn’t helpful right now.
“No,” Connor said. “Leo isn’t here.”
