The parking lot was clearing. Keys turned on the floodlights to help his club brothers as they assessed themselves and the downed men outside. Jigsaw was down on one knee with a hand pressed to his ribs as Starbucks stood over him with heavy breaths. Above them, through the skylight feed, Keys could see Angel climbing down from the rafters, her rifle slung over her back. Bulldog, Scooby, and Poker were moving along the eastern fence line, which Keys could see now that he’d regained access.
Scar was starting to pile the dead and wounded. As in a literal pile. He was stacking them on top of each other like a fucked up version of Jenga.
Keys turned on the sprinkler system to gain the mercs’ attention. “Much appreciated,” he said when silence fell. “Now, I’maware all of you are hired guns, but ifoneof you—and I do mean just one—could please tell me the name of your employer, it would save me alotof trouble, and might even give me an incentive to let you leave. Otherwise, I might forget you’re in there, and this might be a good time to mention that all the bathrooms have been sealed off as well.”
As with before, the chaotic shouting started again. It was literal gibberish from threats of revenge to vows of breaking free to moral reminders that Keys couldn’t keep them locked up in there. He rolled his eyes. How quickly the tides had turned? Where weretheirmorals when they’d stormed his building where a child slept?
“Keys.”
Flipping over to the exterior monitors, Keys found Bulldog staring up at him. Angel was kneeling at his feet, but the angle of her body prevented Keys from seeing what she was looking at. “Yeah?”
“You better get out here.”
Making a face, Keys went mobile, grabbing his tablet and a silicone keyboard he could roll up in his sweatpants pocket. Unfortunately, he still needed shoes before he could venture outside.
WiseWave620: Anyway Thorne could bring me down a pair of shoes please? And a shirt?
Gl!tch.OS: I can bring them. Are you okay?
WiseWave620: I’m good but send Thorne. I don’t want you out of the apartment yet.
WiseWave620: Just in case.
Gl!tch.OS: I don’t like it but fine. Do you need anything from me?
WiseWave620: Just you and Oscar safe. Is he doing okay?
Gl!tch.OS: Hasn’t even woken up.
Keys was grateful for that. The apartment was soundproofed, so he shouldn’t have heard any of the gunshots, but a large vehicle had still rammed into the building.
Using additional blockages, Keys ushered any stragglers from other corridors away from the apartment and his computer lab, giving Thorne a clear path between the two. He also muted the corridor speakers. It was too fucking early in the morning for that much shouting that the walls were moving. Like he didn’tknowthe walls were moving them. Idiots. For some reason, that thought also reminded Keys that he still hadn’t peed yet. Probably should do that before he forgot or got distracted again.
Thorne arrived with a shirt, Keys’ cut, and a pair of sneakers.
“I want you back down with Rose,” Keys told him as he tied his shoes.
But Thorne shook his head. “Rose wants me with you. She’s fine in that fortress you built her, and Goose is cognizant enough to fire a gun, if needed. Besides, she threatened to permanently lock me out of any phone or computer I tried to use in the future if I came back there without you, and that scares even an old fart like me.”
Keys chuckled as he straightened. “Aren’t you afraid of what I’ll do to you if youdon’treturn to her as I just ordered?”
Thorne shrugged. “Honestly? No. You love her too much to make her worry, and you’ll know that she’ll be happier with me with you than me with her. So…” He let his voice trail off, the conclusion of his philosophy obvious.
Keys cursed, because the man was right. “Damn it. Apparently, I can no longer make fun of my brothers for being pussy whipped because I’m just as whipped!”
“You can’t say that like it’s an issue when you’re smiling like a loon, Boss,” Thorne advised as he held the door open for Keys.
* * *
Tyson Kennedy.
Well, fuck.
Even with a bullet between his eyes, he looked exactly like his federal photograph, which Keys had memorized weeks ago. How the fuck had he found them? Keys had been so careful. Yes, they’d baited him and set a trap for him, but it wouldn’t have—shouldn’t have—led him to Mount Grove.
What the fuck?
A number of the club and Thorne stood around the dead man who had contributed to half of Keys’ son’s DNA.
