This morning they’d woken up as future fathers. If he didn’t fucking stop Gene, their future might be dust by sunset.
“We will. And we’ll deal with Gene so he can never hurt anyone again,” Seth growled.
His stare connected with Beck’s. A silent understanding passed between them—absolute, unshakable.
“When your backup arrives, I’m going in with you.” Beck straightened, wincing.
“Not with that shoulder.” Seth’s voice was low and firm.
“Goddamnit, Cooper. I’m not helpless. I can still?—”
“No. You’re my fail-safe.” Seth swallowed the emotion clogging his throat. “If something goes wrong—if I don’t make it out—you have to take care of Heavenly, our baby, and Hudson. Make sure they live long, happy lives.”
Beck opened his mouth to argue, but Seth held up his hand.
“I’m counting on you to take care of our family. This isn’t about pride or ego. It’s about their survival.”
Beck gritted his teeth, then exhaled a heavy sigh. “If it makes you feel better, fine. But you better not fucking die in there.”
“That’s the plan,” Seth assured as he caught a glimpse of Matt—armed and alert—darting across the neighbor’s yard. His movements were deliberate and silent as he innately traced the same path Seth had taken.
Gratitude that the first of his reinforcements had arrived tangled with his guilt for dragging his younger brother into this shit and putting his life at risk. But without help he could trust, innocent people would die today.
Matt rushed to his side, against the house, and wrapped Seth in a fierce embrace. “You doing okay?”
“Define okay,” Seth quipped, clapping his brother on the back before releasing him. “You?”
“I’m worried shitless about Mom and fucking furious at—” Matt’s words died when he spotted Beck slumped against the house. “Oh, shit.” He crouched down beside him. “You’ve been shot.”
“Your observation skills are as sharp as your brother’s. It’s just a flesh wound,” Beck said flatly.
Matt sent him a skeptical stare, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he glanced back at Seth and held out a SIG with a suppressor. “Brought you this.”
Seth accepted the Glock and gripped it firmly.
“Stay here.” Matt clapped Beck on the leg. “Don’t die and don’t worry. I’ve got Seth’s back.”
As Beck nodded, something loosened in Seth’s chest.
“How blind are we gonna be going in?” Matt rose to his feet, gaze locked on Seth.
He gave his brother a quick rundown.
Matt’s expression turned arctic. “Got a plan?”
“Working on it.” Seth’s gaze flicked back to the house, to the closed drapes and the unnatural silence.
“Work faster, man. We need to move.”
“Not yet. We’re waiting for more backup.”
Matt frowned. “Who?”
Two vehicles pulled up and parked on opposite sides of the street. The doors swung open and men whose dangerous expressions and tattoos ensured they’d never be mistaken for cozy suburban neighbors stepped out.
Then, from the back of the lead car, another man opened the door to the back seat. Nikolai slowly emerged, doffing his thousand-dollar sunglasses with a raised brow.
Seth watched the big Russian gesture to his men—quick, silent signals. They dispersed, blending into the area and taking invisible positions, tightening the perimeter around his mother’s house.
