He stands, opens a cabinet, and retrieves a crowbar.
"Brax—"
"Not done," he snipes, then yanks open a drawer. A smaller gun. A set of lock picks. Another knife. He dumps a six-inch gun, a set of brass knuckles, and another knife on the table.
I fold my hands, trying not to seem shocked, but we're running out of table room. I had no idea Brax had an entire arsenal. I ask, "Is that all?"
"No," he growls.
He stomps to the bedroom, returns with a bat, and tosses it on top.
He fumes, "Assume you want that, too?"
I rise and stare at the camera.
The light turns blue.
I spin. "Go ahead and put your weapons back."
He scrunches his face. "I'm confused. I thought you were taking them?"
"Nah. Good to know where you keep everything. I'll see you later," I nonchalantly state, wink, and exit before he can say anything else.
6
Brax
Several Months Later
It's been months since the Underworld touched my life. I started wondering if Valentina actually showed up at my house or if my brain just made her up during a stress-induced blackout. Nobody's killed me or contacted me, yet I can't shake the feeling they're watching, even though the camera is no longer in the kitchen. And I searched all over my house, but I couldn't find anything.
One day, I returned home after a three-day O'Malley shift and went to do a load of laundry. The keypad they'd installed was no longer there.
It fucked with my head more than anything. I'd gotten used to punching in the code Valentina entered to open the wall, yet it never worked. And the thin door line I'd run my finger over to make sure was still there was also gone. The new drywall is perfectly matched to the rest of the house, and even the microtexture is spot-on.
One night, Finn and Sean's uncles grilled me for hours at the pub about what Sean's involved in, and I had to lie to all of them. I came home with so much angry energy that I tore apart half the wall and found nothing. No wiring. No residual cuts. No studs out of place. Just an empty apartment ready to be rented.
It was like the room never existed.
Likeshenever existed.
But I can't even ask Sean about any of it. The minute I bring up anything, he shuts down completely.
The biggest kicker came when he and Zara went off and secretly got married. They came home with their dad's skull branded on their bodies. It was still a fresh wound when we all found out, and the shit hit the fan in both families.
Tension's thick for everyone, but I miss my best friend and am sick of covering for him by lying to Finn. So I'm stuck in the middle of the chaos, pretending I'm not waiting for the next Underworld punch to land, but I am.
And where did Valentina go? As much as I hate her since she's an Abruzzo, I can't stop thinking about the sexy little Minx.
A week ago, I decided the Underworld figured I was no use to them and forgot about me. Then Byrne barged into my garage like a bulldozer, slammed the door open, pointed at me, and said, "You're planning Sean's bachelor party and you're going to convince Fiona to plan a bachelorette party for Zara."
I reminded him that Sean was already married.
He didn't care.
So that's how I ended up at a strip club packed wall-to-wall with neon lights, bass-thumping speakers, and bodies grinding like the world isn't on fire.
Yet for the first time in months, I let myself breathe. Sean's not getting any lap dances, but it feels good to be out with him. And our cousins and I are taking full advantage of the attention the ladies are splashing on us.
