by TL Reeve
“Well, there’s a silver lining to all of this bullshit. Get some sleep, and we’ll speak tomorrow.”
Before Asher could hang up on him, Duncan asked, “Hey, just out of curiosity, did you send someone to cover my ass?”
“Cover you?” Confusion filled Asher’s tone. “No. Why?”
“Nah, nothing. It’s probably me. I’m getting a headache, so it’s possibly that.”
“Don’t blow it off. Not while we’re dealing with this shit. Look, if Raul has killed Bella and Enzo’s parents, he’s coming your way. I’m sending you back up. I have the perfect guy for this mission. His name is Omar Pershing. He’s ex-special forces and chomping at the bit for a little action. He’ll be there in the morning,” Asher replied. “If you think you’re being followed, you probably are.”
“Fuck...” He didn’t need this. Not now.
“Hit the bunks and call me in the morning when Omar arrives.”
Asher hung up and, like Thomas, didn’t bother with a goodbye or a kiss my ass. Duncan pushed out of the SCIF and went straight for his bathroom. He was fucked if he didn’t get his Imitrex injection. He flipped on the light in his bathroom and instantly regretted it. The light added to the pounding pain intensifying by the second. By the time he grabbed the package out of his medicine cabinet, his hands were shaking, and his stomach churned in discontent. He injected the meds and headed back into his room.
Duncan left a trail of clothes behind him as he stumbled to his bed and crawled in. What a fucking way to end a miserable fucking night. Though it wasn’t all bad, the last hour had gone to shit. Not only did he have to tell Bella and Enzo their mother was murdered, but he’d have to tell them about their father as well. He hated death notifications. He’d been to a few with Thomas, and it made him realize how other families must have felt when his da’s handiwork killed their loved ones.
There’d been days the guilt gnawed at Duncan. He wondered if Thomas had dragged him to those notifications on purpose. In the beginning, he’d been young, dumb, and full of cum. Duncan hadn’t given a shit about anything. His da’s work was righteous. Liberation, boyo. Can you smell it? Why the memory entered Duncan’s brain while he drifted on a blanket of pain and oblivion, he didn’t know. Maybe Laura’s phone call shook him bad enough to reevaluate himself. Look at them all. They’re like trapped rats, scurrying for safety.
He was so stupid. The crushing agony in his skull flared as Duncan tensed. At the time, he thought what his father was doing had been right. Life wasn’t worth living if it meant being under the Queen’s thumb. Northern Ireland deserved to be free. Duncan had been groomed from the time he could toddle to take over for his da, until he’d been caught. And, what had his loyalty gotten him? A twenty-year prison sentence and sent over three thousand miles away from home. The one question the Director of the FBI asked repeated in his head over the years. Was it worth it?
No. Looking back, he wished he could have done everything differently.
As the pain ebbed, he let out a shuddering breath and drifted off. What he’d wanted and what his father wanted didn’t matter anymore, because his life had taken a drastic turn to the left, and he couldn’t go back.
The next morning, he woke up to the smell of bacon frying and the bite of fresh coffee. His stomach rumbled in appreciation. Duncan laid there for a moment more, waiting for the pain in his head to register with his sluggish body. When it didn’t, he sat up. He took stock of his room and muttered a curse. He’d been frazzled by Laura’s phone call and the fact he’d not only skipped dinner but had also shared a drink with Thomas on said empty stomach—it’d been a perfect storm for his migraines.
Duncan ambled out of bed and headed to the bathroom for a quick shower. He knew he’d have to be ready for the meeting within the hour, which meant he had less time to prepare Enzo and Bella. He hurried through his shower then got dressed. When he stepped back into his room, he could hear the melodic beat of music coming from the kitchen. It was truly strange having someone else in his home. Usually, the apartment was quiet until he turned on the television, and more often than not, he threw it on for the background noise. He dressed comfortably in a pair of grey sweats and a white ribbed tank before heading into the kitchen.
Enzo stood at the stove while Bella sat at the table. Her hair was wrapped in a towel, and she had on a red silk robe and a paperback book in her hands. The lapel of her robe slipped open slightly, giving him the first glimpse of the rose and vine tattoo along with the valley between her breasts. Duncan’s mouth watered. Though Enzo appeared small when dressed in his baggy clothes, he had a good physique, muscular, but not outrageously so. His back was covered in several tattoos along with his neck, and when he turned toward the table. Duncan took a moment to appreciate Enzo’s toned abs and tapered waist. There were other tattoos as well, but the gang ones reminded Duncan why they were there and once more reiterated why both Bella and Enzo were off-limits.
“There you are,” Enzo said, spooning eggs onto their waiting plates. “Thought you’d sleep the day away.”
“Headache,” he muttered. “What’s all this?”
Bella pursed her lips. “Don’t you remember anything I said last night?”
Honestly, no. When his headaches got that bad, he forgot everything. “Uh...”
She sighed. “My mom always made us eat one meal a week together. It didn’t matter if it was breakfast, lunch, or dinner. So, this week we implemented the rule here.” Bella placed the book she’d been reading on the table beside her.
“How did you get the book?” Duncan tapped the edge of the paperback with a black and red cover.
“I bought it in El Paso while we were waiting for our flight out. It seemed pretty good when I saw it, so...” She shrugged.
“A guy came to the door this morning. Said his name’s Omar. He said you know how to get him if you need him.” Enzo shrugged.
Duncan grunted. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” Enzo joined them at the table when he was finished dishing out their breakfast. “So, how did it go last night?”
Duncan took a sip of his coffee first before a bite of eggs. “Depends on how you look at it.” He cut his gaze to Bella. “Before we start acting like all of this is normal, you should understand something.”
Bella sat up. “What happened?”
Duncan didn’t know exactly how to explain the sequence of events from the night before, so he started simple. “Today, we’re moving. The safe place will keep you hidden better than you are here. When we get there, you’ll have tons of questions, but I promise, I’ll answer all of them. Second, I have some grave news for the both of you.”
Bella frowned while Enzo tensed.
“Did you know your parents had a home in San Diego?”
Enzo whistled. “Yeah, they moved when we left. My dad’s garage started getting too much attention from the Feds.”
“Mom would go anywhere with Dad,” Bella added. “They liked it there. It was hidden and nice. She went to the beach all the time and took pictures. She’d send them to me and Enzo to let us know they were okay and having fun.”
Well, now Duncan knew how Raul found Ignacio and Naomi. He’d probably been tracing all of their internet traffic, including email and text messages. He’d have to give the information to Laura when he received the file from the scene. “Sounds nice. Unfortunately, I have some bad news, and I need you not to freak out or do something stupid.” He pinned both of them with a commanding glare. “If you run out of this apartment, the deal is off the table and you’re on your own.”
“What the fuck, Duncan?” Enzo narrowed his eyes. Anger burned in his gaze. “We’d never disrespect you like that.”
“I have to put it out there.” Duncan wiped his mouth with his napkin.
“You’re scaring me,” Bella whispered, reaching for Enzo. “What happened, Duncan?”
“I’m not good with this shit. I never have been. This isn’t in my job description.” He clenched his ha
nds into fists, wanting Bella to hold his hand and seek comfort from him like she sought it from her brother. “Last night, I received a call from an agent in San Diego.”
Bella gasped.
Enzo jerked beside him.
“Your mom and presumably your father have been murdered.”
Enzo sat forward. Tears tracked down Bella’s cheeks, and her bottom lip trembled. “What do you mean ‘presumably my father?’”
“Where is Iliana?” Bella paled. “Where is our little sister?”
Ah the only bright spot in the conversation. “She is safe. Did you know she joined a Gang Intervention Program?” He held up his hand. “Not the point. Sorry. She’s safe.”
Bella nodded before her eyes widened and her hand went to her mouth. “Oh my God. She has social media. You don’t think that...that he followed her?”
He didn’t want to be an asshole and say yes, but likelihood was high. Iliana’s posts in conjunction with Naomi’s photos gave Raul all the information he needed. “Bella I—”
“Where is my father?” Enzo snapped, drawing Duncan’s attention. Fury and sorrow filled Enzo’s features. The crack in his facade had been startling. Under all the vibrato and the macho bullshit, Duncan saw a vulnerable man.
“According to the agent called to the scene, there was a fight in the house. There’s enough blood...” Duncan cleared his throat. “Your father wasn’t found there.”
Bella screamed, crumbling into a fit of uncontrollable sobs. Duncan didn’t move. Instead, he sat at the table and continued with his breakfast, shutting down. Enzo rushed to his sister’s side to gather her into his arms. Duncan’s lack of reaction might make him look like a heartless fuck, but it’d been part of the disconnection training his father taught him all those years ago. He couldn’t care for all of the people in his life, so he picked and chose who to mourn.
* * *
To make everyone’s life easier, Thomas joined him at the apartment instead of returning to the base for the eleven o’clock meeting with Asher and their team. Duncan handed Thomas the file Pratt sent him while he finished cleaning up after breakfast. He’d already forwarded it to Asher the minute it hit Duncan’s inbox.
Enzo had taken Bella into her bedroom. He could hear her soft sobs as Enzo continued to comfort her. He was a son of a bitch. He’d learned at a young age to flip the switch and turn off his emotions. It kept him sane and his father off his ass. It also stunted him. He didn’t have regular relationships and didn’t necessarily have friends either, besides Thomas. He could play the part of concerned Dom or FBI Agent/Consultant because they were pretend, but that was as deep as he went. Breaking through the ice or glass or whatever a therapist would call it didn’t seem possible for him. So, he relied on his conditioning. He’d finished eating and took his plate to the sink, all while blocking out Bella’s gut-wrenching sobs. Some days he wondered if he was even human anymore.
“You okay?” Thomas asked, studying him.
He shrugged. It was a loaded question. Because of the life he lived, his past, and now his future, he’d never be okay. “Had a migraine last night.”
His partner nodded. The first time he puked his guts up in front of Thomas while trying to inject himself, he’d been so delirious. Thomas rushed him to the emergency room, delaying Duncan’s relief. It was only after the fog of his migraine cleared that he’d chewed Thomas out for leaving him in excruciating pain for so long. “Figured. You always have this dazed and stupid look the morning after.”
Duncan smirked. “It’s the meds. They knock me on my ass. Better than suffering in pain.” He glanced at the closed bedroom door. “Better than what they’re going through anyway.” Truth be told, he felt bad for Enzo. He too had lost his parents, but his focus and concern was solely on his sister. Duncan hadn’t missed the devastation in Enzo’s brown eyes as he picked Bella up, carrying her to their bedroom.
“Might have to consider sedating her,” Thomas said while reading the file.
Duncan had the same thought. Grief was a bastard of an emotion. It could send someone spiraling in two different directions. Either Bella would succumb to such a deep depression she’d lose herself or she’d go on a rampage, seeking vengeance for what Raul did to her family. The second, more dangerous of the two, would put their whole operation at risk. They couldn’t chance it. “I—”
A knock came at the door, drawing Duncan from the conversation he’d been having with Thomas. Enzo had said Omar had shown up earlier. When he glanced at the clock, he noticed the time. The meeting would be starting shortly. He went to the door and opened it. Duncan had seen Omar once or twice when he’d been at R.O.O.T.’s base, but they’d never spoken. If he’d had to describe him with one word, it’d be intense.
Omar was built like the former wrestler, now turned actor, who seemed to be featured in every re-booted movie being made. Several inches taller than Duncan, Omar had wide, muscular shoulders and arms. His broad chest narrowed to a trim waist and gave way to thighs like tree trunks. He looked like a quintessential military man, sporting dark cargo pants and a tight t-shirt with the seams straining to hold the material together over his fit body. His high and tight black hair and piercing blue eyes finished off the look.
“Duncan. Thomas,” Omar said, stepping into their apartment.
Thomas nodded while he held his hand out. “Omar.”
The man took Thomas’s hand and gave exactly three pumps while holding Thomas’s gaze hostage. Dude was strong as hell. He was the perfect person to have at Duncan’s back in a gun, or hell, even a knife fight.
“The Commander told me he’d scheduled a video conference this morning and to get my ass here for it.” Omar folded his hands behind his back. “I’ve been checking out our surroundings and giving each of your vehicles a onceover.” He pinned Thomas with a glare. “Where are your partners?”
“Hotel. Sleeping, I believe,” Thomas answered. “We’re going back to Virginia Beach after the meeting.”
Omar grunted. The dark gravelly sound fit the man’s persona. “Understood. Commander also said Raul is currently going through and removing some loose ends?” He picked up the folder Thomas placed on the table.
If murder meant removing ‘loose ends,’ then he agreed with Asher. “Yes.”
The bedroom door opened, effectively ending their conversation. Enzo entered the living room. The shirt he’d donned at some point was covered in Bella’s tears. Duncan stared at the man. He was shell-shocked, and his brown eyes were empty, his face pale. He looked whipped, not only from caring for his sister but also from the devastating loss of his parents. Duncan refused to allow concern to float to the surface. He had to remain focused.
“How is she?” Thomas hedged.
“Not good.” Enzo threw himself into one of the empty chairs and gave an exhausted sigh.
“How are you?” Thomas went a step further.
Enzo looked up. “Same, although I’d be a helluva lot better off if I knew whether my pops was dead or being tortured by Raul.”
Duncan returned to the task at hand, cleaning up the kitchen. He wasn’t sure why either of them, Bella or Enzo, were shocked by their parent’s murder. People got in bed with drug cartels knowing full well when they displeased their jefe they ran the risk of being killed, along with their families. It was a warning Duncan’s father and his men always gave to the recruits. If they screwed them over, they’d die in the most painful way imaginable. His father had been true to his word too. Duncan had seen his father’s ruthlessness with his own eyes. He exacted maximum damage to prevent anyone from speaking up.
Omar gave Enzo a onceover. “He’s not going to be around during the call with the Commander, is he?”
“We’re not all going to fit in Duncan’s closet,” Thomas stated.
Enzo quirked his brow in confusion. It was such an innocent expression. Had they been in any other situation, Duncan would have laughed. “Thomas is right. My SCIF is too small.”
Omar nodded. “
I guess going with my gut had been the right thing to do. I’ve set up some equipment around the perimeter this morning. It’ll block outside interference.” Omar’s gaze landed on Enzo once more. The man had reason to not trust the gangbanger. None of them could, really. “For now, until we move again, we’re safe.”
Thomas’s mouth quirked upward in amusement. “FBI has shit like that too.” Thomas was a die-hard FBI agent and didn’t like when others attempted to disparage the agency.
“R.O.O.T.’s is better,” Omar stated before he closed the file.
Enzo sized Omar up. “When’s the call?”
“Now,” Omar replied, not intimidated by a man half his size.
“Fine. I’ll go stay with Bella while you all go do your top-secret spy shit.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Thomas stood.
When Enzo left the living room after grabbing a can of soda from the fridge, Omar lifted the folder he held and gestured toward the short hallway. “It’ll be best if we take the Commander’s call in your room, Duncan.”
“Bring chairs, or else you’re sitting on the floor.” Duncan called over his shoulder as he headed down the hall.
Duncan pulled the lone chair out from his desk and placed it near the closet, then readjusted it after he opened the door. Thomas sat on the edge of Duncan’s bed. Omar, on the other hand, dragged one of the kitchen chairs in behind him. He swung it around then sat. The classic intimidation move didn’t surprise Duncan, and if the amused glint in Thomas’s eyes was any indication, he hadn’t been shocked either.
Duncan’s da did it all the time, especially when interrogating someone or when he was trying to show who was the biggest, baddest motherfucker in the room. Unfortunately for Omar, Duncan just moved him down the ladder from military meathead to douchebag. It rubbed him the wrong way. While in his apartment, they were all on equal footing. Pulling a pissing contest and trying to be top dog wouldn’t work.
