“Who the fuck are you?” He’d seen the man in the chair at the clubhouse in Tallahassee before, hadn’t he?
“Steele.” He gestured to Balas, “I’d shake your hand, but—” Steele shrugged, it was more than obvious the dog was the reason he was staying put.
“You are the other son?”
“As much as I hate to be connected to that dick,” Steele twisted up his face in a grimace, “Yeah I am.” He nodded to Axel, “and you are now family.”
Axel clenched his jaw tightly and resisted the urge to make a grab for a weapon and shoot him. But this was not the brother he sought. “Where is the other one?”
Castello stared at Axel, unsure if he should mention just yet that Zeke was in the truck at the end of the street and would be here in about five minutes. Castello started to fold his arms across his chest, then his gaze suddenly went over Axel’s head, catching a glimpse of the street outside in the mirror and his entire body tensed.
“Incoming,” Connor yelled from his place at the window.
Axel heard a pop sound, before he could react, Castello pushed him to
the floor, his full weight coming down on top of him. Pain ricocheted through Axel’s face as the remnants of the bruises he’d received in The Congo thumped off the tile. He couldn’t see what was happening, Castello covered him with his body as gunfire continued to ring out.
“Shots fired,” someone yelled, “Shots fired.”
“Balas, free.” Rafe yelled, ordering the K9 to release his watch on the prisoner, so he too could take cover.
The light fixture over their heads exploded. Castello pulled Axel under him as much as possible, trying his best to protect him. They were being shot at and the big idiot had put himself in the line of fire to protect Axel. Next to him, through the tiny space between Castello’s armpit and the muscle of his bicep, he could see Grif tucked in under the massive body of Rock.
The men in the room hadn’t hesitated, at the first thud of a bullet hitting the building, they had all dropped to the floor. Instinct had an array of weapons out, and ready to fire. But this was not the Middle East, not Afghanistan, Iran, or Iraq. Nope this was freaking suburban Miami, so they held their fire. The last thing they wanted or needed to do was deal with cops and give up weapons for a fricking investigation.
“Connor?” Castello needed intel. He couldn’t see shit from his vantage point on the floor where he was covering Axel.
“Drive by, Boss.” Connor yelled back, “Permission to return fire?”
“Negative.”
“Clear, Boss.” Connor muttered a couple of seconds later, “They’re leaving.” In the distance they heard the pop of another shot.
“Fuck.”
“They took a shot at the truck with the other dudes waiting for this lot.”
Connor’s words caused a scramble as Panthers all bounced to their feet. Like the team they were, they took formation bolted for the door.
Chapter 11
“You hit?” Castello ran his hands over Axel, checking his palms as he moved, looking for any telltale sign of blood.
“No, I’m good.” Pissed, he was pissed not hurt. How fucking dare someone take shots at his fucking house. “Go,” He pointed Castello to the door, knowing that he would want to check on their friends.
“Stay here.”
“Nope.” Axel followed Cas, staying right on his heels. No fucking way was he staying in the house like some protected mafia princess. Not fucking happening.
Within seconds they were at the end of the street, and Axel studied the men who had been in the truck. The man he recognized as Steele was running his fingers over the face of a smaller man, his expression darkening as he catalogued each and every blemish caused by the exploding windshield.
“Get me my father on the line. Now!”
The growled fury behind him dragged Axel’s view from Steele and his man to another. This one a younger, lighter version of Steele. Holy fuck, that was Zeke Givens. He should have recognized Steele when he was in the house. Axel’s feet were moving, he was going to kill the fucker.
“I don’t give a shit who you are,” Zeke growled, “You tell Brendan that Junior is on the fucking phone. Now!”
“Don’t.” Castello’s voice in his ear made Axel pause mid-step. “Please.”
