Leverage (The Brannock Siblings)

by Wilde, Jessica

  You'd think he would be more serious at a time like this.

  ***

  Fourteen days into my forced isolation and I was about to snap.

  Dad spent long nights at the station since he went in late in the afternoon when Lucas came back to stay with me. He was going in as early as he could so Dad wouldn't have to work so late, but it didn't matter. There was so much going on with the Banetti case that neither one of them could avoid thinking about it. I had no idea how either of them were even able to get away to stay with me, but I didn't question it.

  They didn't really tell me what was going on, which was a good thing. It was too risky for me to know anything. They did, however, tell me that everything was 'just fine', which it wasn't. Dad was on edge after the first few nights and Lucas looked like he was primed to kill anyone who walked through the door that wasn't Liam Brannock.

  He ran with me for several nights, making me feel completely out of shape because I started gasping for air after the first mile and pretty much begged him to slow down. He did, of course, but that sacrifice earned him the right to do nothing but tease me for the duration of the run. Something about 'losing my stamina' because he had to 'slow down to a stroll', and yes, I am using quote fingers. I admit, all I focused on were the words 'losing my stamina'. I don't think it would be possible for him and for the sake of women everywhere, I prayed it wasn't.

  Tonight, I had told him I wasn't running, but regretted it afterwards. I needed to get out, but I needed to be alone. Clear my head.

  Lucas didn't really talk much when we ran, but his presence alone sent a hurricane of thoughts through my mind and it really stressed me out. Hell, his presence in the house made me feel like I was going to burst out of my skin, but at least he gave me some space. When we ran, he stayed close to me. Close enough for me to feel the heat coming off of him.

  I decided to kill some time by calling my brothers, both of which had religiously contacted me twice a day and reminded me to listen to Dad and Lucas.

  I walked up to my room with the phone to my ear, passing Lucas on the staircase since he was coming down from double checking all the windows. He lightly touched my wrist as he passed me and nodded questioningly to the phone.

  "I'm calling Conall," I said as I listened to the ringing in my ear.

  "Tell him I said hi," he replied softly.

  I nodded and continued up the stairs, noticing that he stayed rooted to his spot watching me turn down the hall to my bedroom. This only added to the already frenzied feeling I got when he touched me and when Conall finally picked up, my voice was breathy.

  "Is everything okay?" he asked, his voice strained with worry.

  I cleared my throat, "Um, yeah. Everything is good. Just had to catch my breath from climbing the stairs." I opened my window and let the cool night air calm me.

  "Uh huh. I take it Lucas is around tonight."

  I rolled my eyes. They would never give that up. Probably because they knew I wouldn't give it up either.

  I changed the subject and we spent the next half hour talking about a new case he was currently working on. Conall had made detective two years ago and was good at what he did, but not as good as Lucas. He had told me many times that he contacted Lucas whenever he was stuck on something and talked to him. Of course, he got clearance to do this. His boss had tried to get Lucas to transfer there, but was never successful. Didn't mean he wouldn't let the very best help out once in a while.

  After saying goodbye to Conall, I made a quick call to Fergus who was in the middle of some kind of celebration with his fellow officers. Gus was working his way up in the ranks and would probably make detective here soon. He focused on the cases that involved missing children. For some reason, he had a gift for solving those kinds of cases. He had found several missing children in the years he had been in law enforcement, the first of which had changed his life completely.

  The little girl was tied up in a shack in the middle of nowhere. Gus hadn't been assigned to anything since he was still doing patrols, but he had overheard a few key facts about the case and got a gut feeling about where the little girl was based on some of the evidence that had been collected. How? I have no idea. He had decided to take a drive out there. Wouldn't hurt anyone to look, right?

  Well, he had used his gun for the first time that night and had taken down a convicted pedophile after the guy had attacked him while he was trying to untie the little girl. It had taken him a while to get back to himself and he never actually did. He had calmed down a lot since then.

  We agreed to talk early the next morning and said our goodbyes. I sprawled out on my and tried to relax, but I was anxious, on edge, and itching for a good run or something to really wipe me out for the night. I was just sitting up to go tell Lucas I had changed my mind when I saw him standing in the doorway of my bedroom.

  "Your dad is home. Just wanted to say goodbye," he muttered.

  I glanced at the clock. Dad was back earlier than he had been the last several nights.

  "Okay, good. Thank you, Lucas."

  He nodded and waved goodbye before walking away and I wished I would have come up with something intriguing to say to him. Talking to him had always been difficult before, but lately, I realized that silence was comfortable when it was just me and him. We didn't need to speak and that, in itself, was comforting.

  I heard him saying goodbye to my dad, then heard the sound of the deadbolt being turned before my father's footsteps sounded on the stairs.

  Dad appeared in my doorway a few seconds later with a grim expression.

  "Everything good?" I asked cautiously.

  His lips thinned into a straight line, but he nodded. "Just found some things that may mean disappointment. Not too happy about it."

  I tilted my head, watching his movements and understanding that he was really beat down tonight. "Anything I can do?"

  He shook his head, "No, my beauty. Nothing other than what you are doing."

  "Okay."

  He hesitated a moment, then strode forward and gathered me in his arms. I was used to his nervous hugs whenever he was worried about me, but this one was different. My gut churned when he tightened his hold on me.

  "I love ye, my beauty. Doonah ever think otherwise."

  His words made me even more nervous. His Irish accent was more prominent and I don't think I had heard him talk like that in years.

  "Daddy?"

  "I've got some work to do yet. I'll see ye in the morning."

  He released me abruptly, kissed the top of my head, and walked out of the room.

  Something big must have come up, that or he was just extremely tired. I wasn't about to fool myself into thinking the latter.

  That's when I got a stupid idea and ran with it. Literally. I didn't want to leave him when he was so worried, but I needed to get out of the house. Clear my thoughts and focus on anything I could do to help my dad, so I grabbed my running shoes and pulled my hair up, then quietly descended the stairs. He was in his office that was on the other side of the house, but I didn't want to deal with a lecture until I had gotten back.

  I left through the back door and immediately started to run. Things would be clearer, less stressful for me when I got back.

  ***

  I had been gone 45 minutes.

  That's all.

  I started walking when I hit the end of my street so I could cool down and I almost missed it. A car tore away from my house, sending gravel shooting up into the air. I watched the tail lights disappear as it turned the next corner and every muscle in my body tensed.

  That's when I started to run faster than I ever had before.

  I ran to the front door, which was left wide open, something Dad would have never allowed. I didn't hesitate to go inside even though everything I had ever been taught told me not to.

  I had to get to Dad.

  I opened the compartment in the grandfather clock next to the door and pulled out the shotgun he had hidden there and a couple sh
ells which I immediately loaded, then I quietly made my way around the main floor, not daring to call out in case someone was still here.

  I didn't find him, but I found a mess in his office. Papers were scattered, drawers were ripped out of the desk. His computer was shattered on the floor and there was a big hole in the wall above it like it had been thrown against the wall.

  My heart was racing and I had to force myself to breathe steadily so I wouldn't get dizzy.

  I moved out of the office quickly, less concerned with being heard, and tore up the stairs. He wasn't in his room and as I made my way to Conall's old room which was next to his, I heard a moan coming from mine.

  I backed up against the wall and clutched the gun to my chest.

  "Ash."

  My father's voice was strained, in pain, and weak.

  I burst into my bedroom and found him lying on the floor next to my closet, clutching his stomach. I dropped to the floor, releasing my grip on the gun and failing to hold back the tears that sprang forward.

  "Daddy!"

  "I knew it was you when I heard you crash through my bedroom. Sounded like a herd of elephants. Remind Conall to retrain you on stealth."

  "Daddy, this is no time to joke around!" I cried.

  He was bleeding. A lot. I looked around the room for something to help put pressure against the wound. I could see now that he had been shot in the stomach and the size of the puddle of blood underneath him told me I didn't have much time. I pulled my phone out of my pocket so I could call the police.

  His hand shot out and grasped my wrist.

  "No," he said. "It will all be alright, my beauty. I promise you."

  It was the last thing I expected from him. 'Call first, always'. He had ingrained that into my brain over the years and nothing was alright about this.

  "Daddy, I'm calling the police. We need to get you an ambulance."

  "No," he repeated and squeezed my wrist harder. His eyelids were heavy and he was extremely pale. He was losing too much blood and would go unconscious any second now.

  This can't be happening, I thought. I couldn't lose my Dad. Desperation coursed through me and my hands shook harder. If anyone walked in right now, there was no way I would be able to hold the shotgun long enough to take care of it.

  "Not… yet…" he choked out. "Go… to Lucas… he'll know… what you need… Lucas… first."

  His eyes shut and his body went limp in my arms.

  "Daddy!" I cried, hot tears streaming down my face. "Daddy… wake up!"

  He didn't move and something told me I needed to hurry.

  I tried to pull him, tried to lift him, tried to take him with me, but I wasn't strong enough. I barely moved him a few inches. I stared at my phone, wondering if I should call the police like I had always been taught or listen to my father's last words to me while he might have been delirious from the loss of blood.

  I didn't have time to decide.

  There were voices coming from the bottom of the stairs and my body went on autopilot.

  I took one last look at my dad and bent down to pick up the gun. If it was the guys who shot him, they would know I was here if they saw it.

  I quietly opened my closet door and pressed the invisible button to open my secret hiding place. The one that Daddy made sure no one else knew about the entire time he had been making it. The memory forced more tears out.

  I dragged my body inside then reached out to shut the main door to my closet. The voices were close now, probably at my father's room several feet away. I shut the small door quickly and silently just as the voices arrived in my bedroom.

  I wanted to scream, but I covered my mouth and shut my eyes tightly, praying they didn't suspect that I was anywhere close. A single thought went through my mind that seemed so incredibly important at the time. I couldn't remember if I had made my bed. If I hadn't, would they notice and suspect someone else was living with my dad? Would they wait for me to come out?

  "He's out. Damn it! I told you to tie him up, not shoot him."

  "Sorry, Boss. He wasn't going to let me. He came after me and I had no choice. He's huge, man."

  "He's 63 years old you fucknut! Now what the hell are we gonna do? We don't have a clue what he knows or who he has told."

  "He hasn't told anyone anything. I've been following him all day and I took care of the shit in his office."

  "Doesn't matter. We still can't move forward until we know that I'm clear, otherwise, the whole plan goes to shit."

  There was something familiar about that voice. Whoever this guy was, I had heard him before and I knew in my gut it was someone who worked with Dad. It had been so long since I had been around the station, though. It could be anyone.

  I leaned against the wall to try and hear his voice better, but he was already leaving the room and the sound was too muffled, I couldn't make out his words.

  I waited, wondering if they were leaving for good or if they would stick around before I could get my dad the help he needed.

  My grip on the shotgun tightened until my knuckles were white and I felt anger rise up in my gut. I couldn't wait much longer or he would die. I had to get to Lucas.

  The shrill ringing of a phone made me jump and my heart stopped, hoping they didn't hear me from where they were standing.

  "Yeah?"

  It was the other voice, the fucknut.

  "Yeah, he's pretty pissed, but there is nothing we can do now… no, I took care of it… yeah, the old man will bleed out before anyone realizes something happened to him. He hasn't been going in until late afternoon so we have time… no, dumbass, there was nothing else I could do… yeah, okay. Later."

  His footsteps faded and I heard the other voice yelling before the sound of car doors reached my ears and an engine turned over. I was shocked I could hear anything, but my window was still opened from earlier.

  I waited a few more minutes and when I didn't hear anything else, I opened the tiny door and crawled out slowly, straining my ears to hear anything that sounded out of place. I pushed open my closet door and saw my dad's pale face and his unconscious body.

  I wanted to hold him again, check his pulse, do CPR, but I kept hearing his voice, "Lucas first", and my body kept telling me not to. I didn't have time to wonder why.

  My hands had stopped shaking as I found my resolve and I pointed the shotgun out in front of me as I made my way down the hall to the stairs. I couldn't hear anybody, but I was still silent with each step I took. When I reached the front door, I didn't care anymore.

  I darted out into the night and sprinted down the sidewalk towards the only person that could help me.

  Chapter 4

  Lucas

  Nothing felt right for Lucas tonight.

  Everything put him on edge and ever since he walked out of the Brannock's front door, he felt hollow, like he was missing something important. He hated leaving Ash every night. She was safe with her dad, but still… when it wasn't him protecting her, it didn't feel right.

  He was sure grateful she didn't want to run tonight. It was too much of a strain on his body running next to her, not only because he stayed alert constantly, but watching her beautiful breasts bounce with each step made it difficult. He always ended up with a hard on that could cut through stone and he needed a break since he had refused to take care of it himself and would jump into a cold shower the second he got home.

  It never took away the need completely.

  Tonight carried a different ache, though. Instead of falling asleep right away like he usually did when his head hit the pillow, he laid awake thinking about Ash. Worrying about her and hoping that she didn't get herself into any trouble.

  The captain didn't look good tonight and Lucas was curious to find out what had him suddenly so paranoid when for the last few days he seemed as calm as anyone could be in this situation.

  He had been walking out the door when the captain muttered his name quietly so Ash wouldn't hear them.

  "Luke?"

&nb
sp; "Yes, sir?"

  He hesitated then sighed and stared so deeply into his eyes that Lucas was sure all of his secrets had been revealed to him. All of his fantasies about Ash, all the trouble he got into before joining the force. He held his breath and waited for the scolding that was coming.

  "Take care of her for me, son. Don't let her out of your sight."

  At first, he didn't know what to think, expect that the man was just worried about his only daughter, but after he nodded and walked out the door, his mind wouldn't stop remembering the look on Liam's face.

  It wasn't… right.

  He spent the next few minutes trying to relax and when his eyes finally started to drift, the sound of someone pounding on his front door jolted him out of bed. He grabbed his gun from the nightstand and pulled on his sweat pants since he didn't want to be completely naked when he found out who the hell that was.

  He hurried out of his bedroom and down the hall to the front door, grateful that his home was only one level. Stairs would just be a hindrance at this point.

  "Please, Lucas, open the door!"

  Aislinn.

  Her small voice was sobbing from the other side, making his stomach drop. He tore open the door without another thought, going against all his training to worry about his own safety and she fell into his arms. He heard something drop to the floor and realized she had dropped her father's shotgun at his feet, then he sank to the floor with her as his eyes darted outside. When he didn't see anyone behind her, he pushed the door shut and reached up to deadbolt it, keeping her protected in the circle of his arms.

  Her tears had already drenched his bare chest and her hold on him was so tight, he thought he might break in half if she was any stronger. She shook violently and his panic spiked up several more notches.

  "Aislinn, what's wrong? What happened?" he asked softly, dreading her answer.

  She sniffed and sobbed louder, but didn't look up at him. He moved his hands to her head and pressed her away from his chest so he could look at her. His thumbs automatically wiped her tears and her stormy grey eyes, now darkened with fear, pleaded with him for something he couldn't figure out. Fury pushed to the surface and he wanted to tear apart whoever made her this unhappy.