One fire at a time.
“You’ve always got my back, Big Guy,” I respond, leading him through the house to the great room. “That’s why I called you.”
He kicks off his shoes and saunters behind me. “Damn straight. Looking forward to it. I didn’t report out. Did you?”
“No,” I answer, referring to the fact that I haven’t informed Wells about our impending ambush. I should. Maybe he and Liam would even join us, but he might order me to stand down because I’m supposed to be lying low. And I can’t bear for those rapists to exist for even one more day. Waiting equates to innocents suffering.
Crunch. Squeak. Blood. One day of waiting.
“Good,” he commends as he drops his black duffel bag on the floor with a thump. “Ask for forgiveness, not permission.”
See? Different as night and day. But that’s exactly the reinforcement I need right now. Defying orders is a rarity for me. Liam? Gage? Not so much. Although they’d claim they skirt them, not disregard them. Semantics.
“Were you able to get everything?” I ask.
“All in here.” He toes the end of his duffel and then decides to just squat down and unpack it.
We get to work, setting things up and discussing strategy for the evening. We’ll need to leave at sundown to case the residence for a few hours before we strike. But it’s not a hard job.
From what I’ve found, we’re up against nothing more than an insignificant street gang. They deal primarily in credit card fraud, prostitution, and ecstasy. All easy markets in Vegas. Once upon a time, those were the domains of the Mafia, but ever since they’ve legitimized—in the sense of funneling money through valid businesses—street gangs have moved in. I’m guessing that’s what Liam uncovered as well since I haven’t heard back.
We’re anticipating two dozen or less fighting-age males. Maybe a few innocents because I’d be shocked if they didn’t have at least a woman or two there—a couple of their off-duty prostitutes. The house is in a rural area. Secluded, which opens the door of possibilities for us. There are also two outbuildings on the property, which spans about three acres. While the home has a large, detached garage, satellite images show that the front yard is used as a makeshift parking lot.
Rena moseys out to the kitchen to join us after about an hour, when we’re just finishing up. Her hair is wet and swept up into a knot on top of her head. Her face is bare of the makeup and glitter she usually flaunts. She’s in a cropped T-shirt and tiny shorts, and I can’t help but stare. Because I can. For the first time, I can.
She’s so fucking sexy.
And mine.
Gage belts out his booming laughter and backhands my chest. “Christ, brother. Fucking pussy-whipped.”
With that, he makes his way over to my girl, wraps her up in his arms, and kisses her hair. That’s what’s so unique about Rena being brought into our circle. With Ivy and Celeste, we all watched as each of us connected with them in our own special ways. It wasa slow process of realizing how they were meant to be the glue between all of us.
Ivy did it first, of course, transforming our close-knit crew into a family with that fierce and loyal compassion that is so on brand for her. But Celeste was magical in her own right because the odds were stacked against her. We felt complete and weren’t expecting to bond with her the way we did. She’s a fighter though, and like she tends to do, she won us over.
But Rena, she’s always been there. In the background to start, but gradually, she became a more permanent fixture. Hanging at the house. Bantering with the family. Rocking Felicity. Part of our moments. She already fits. She always has.
Gage sets her down and not so quietly tells her, “You’re exactly the kind of mischief he needed. Nice work, angel.”
“Do not encourage her,” I protest, sipping the last of a Kraken and Coke. “She causes mayhem without any prodding.”
Rena laughs. It’s bright and whimsical. Free. “Don’t worry, sailor.” She bites her lip and flings an exaggerated wink in my direction. “You keep railing me like last night, and I’ll take it easy on you.”
I drag a hand down my face, hissing, “Jesus, Rena,” as Gage roars and pecks her temple.
“I fucking love this girl.” He struts past me on his way to retrieve his bottle of bourbon. “Please swear to me I get to be here when you tell Axel and Ryker about all therailingyou’re doing to their baby sis.”
My head lolls back as though I’d been struck. “Fuck, man. Am I going to regret inviting you here?”
He pours himself a drink and cocks an eyebrow, which wrinkles his shiny, bald head. “Not when we’re blowing two dozen rapists to bits.”
“True,” I concede as I snag Rena by the hem of her T-shirt and haul her toward me.
She smooths her palms over my chest and casts an eager expression on me. “Can I come?”
“No,” Gage and I bark in unison.
At least, we’re on the same page there.
