Mine didn’t.
His yelp of agony was quickly hushed up, but I heard the bastard drop to his knees. The thump was heavy, heavy enough for me to feel the vibration through the rug under my butt.
I waited, watching, not wanting to give away my location, so I stared into the darkness, pierced only by the glow of the streetlamp, and waited for the home invader to make a decision. Was he going to get up, was he going to take another shot?
Behind me, about two feet to the left of my head, the dust and plaster from the dry wall cracked and shifted, sending little plumes of motes into the air. They tickled my nose, making it next to impossible not to sneeze. I drew in a breath, trying to stop it, but nothing would.
The explosive sneeze triggered a gunshot from across the room, but it also gave me a location—he was hiding beside the foot of my bed.
I’d never be able to get a shot at him there.
Of course, Seamus said there were two men, and this was only one of them.
Was the other in the house? Or somewhere in the hall? Just waiting on us to rush out, thinking we were safe, only for us to fall into his clutches?
My heart started roaring again, but even though I could hear the gentle whisper of Brennan’s breathing, it wasn’t enough this time.
I had two invaders in my home. Two people who maybe wanted me dead, and who, very likely, wanted my son alive to kidnap. I could just imagine what the O’Donnellys would be extorted to pay for his safe keeping.
The only heir to the O’Donnelly throne?
Jesus Christ.
I pinched the bridge of my nose when another sneeze started to build as dust made its way into my sensory receptors. But this time, as my eyelids clamped down with the beginnings of the internal explosion, I blindly pressed my finger to the trigger and pulled.
When the guy yelped again, I tensed, unable to believe that had worked, and figured he’d moved out into the open because he’d been about to take a shot at me. But I still wasn’t taking any chances. Waiting for the bastard to make another pop at me, I aimed my gun higher, finding it next to impossible not to carry on firing into the dark, Scarface style, but that would only waste precious ammo, and while I had some of that in the cupboard downstairs, that was exactly the issue.
It was downstairs.
Only the shooter didn’t make another move. Had I killed him?
Were we safe?
Grimly, and feeling the sweat beading my brow, making my skin slick with it, as well as the strong scent of body odor from my pits as I went through worse sweats than I’d endured during childbirth, I waited for something, anything…
And I got it.
Sirens.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to whoop and holler with joy.
I was the daughter of a gang member, I’d been raised in the life, had been reared to understand that business was business, and that sometimes, Daddy would come back from work with blood on his fists and bruises on his face, and to accept it as normal.
Regular.
I’d also been taught that the cops were pigs and never to call on them unless I had to.
But here and now?
I’d never been so happy for a bunch of blues to make their way onto my property.
“I can hear them, Aela,” Brennan told me, his voice as calm as ever. “Don’t move, and be prepared to fight the other guy. Just because the police are there doesn’t mean that the other intruder will stop. He’s there for a reason, and we both know what happens when you don’t follow the boss man’s orders—being thrown in jail is a kinder fate.”
I gulped, knowing he was exactly right.
My mouth trembled, and even though I was trying to be quiet, fear prompted me to ask, “The Famiglia?”
“It’s likely. We’re at war with them—”
“Rogan told me,” I breathed.
I didn’t have to see his face to know he was surprised. “He did? Why?”
“I knew him back when I was a kid. We were neighbors, lived next door to each other before my dad’s promotion.” Not that you’d have known with the formality between us. I wasn’t even sure why he’d told me the little he had.
Nostalgia?
And now he was dead.
He had to be, didn’t he? Why would he have told me any of that when he fully intended on betraying the family a few hours later?
No, there was no love lost between him and I, but he’d been warning me. The thought of him bleeding out in the SUV had guilt spearing me in the chest, but it was overridden when I heard the sounds of the police rushing into my house, taking over the fight on my behalf.
I kept my Ruger raised though, just waiting for the other guy to come at me, but when he didn’t, when I heard footsteps pounding up the stairs, and a, “Ma’am? This is Officer Fellows. It’s safe to come out now,” I felt like crying.
So, because I felt like it, I allowed myself one weakness after a night of being strong and called back— “On my way down!” –before I placed the gun on the ground, covered my eyes with my hands, and let myself sob, just for a handful of seconds before I had to put on a brave face for Seamus.
Five
Brennan
She was crying, and the sound pissed me off.
I’d always liked Aela. She was good people, strong, and exactly what my brother had needed in a woman. That bitch Deirdre had been all about the position, the posturing. The family name and the family wealth. I’d known she was a money-grubbing slut, had known she was tangled up with Declan for a reason even if, to this day, I had no idea why they were together because I’d seen Dec’s loathing for her every time she stood by his side.
I was surprised the rest of the family hadn’t noticed that either, but sometimes I saw things that no one else did, so it didn’t come as that much of a shock.
While Deirdre was everything I loathed in a woman, Aela was the exact opposite.
She’d have been my type too, if she didn’t have her hooks into Declan, and when I said hooks—I meant it. I’d never seen him go gaga for a chick before, but I got it. Not only had she been beautiful, still was, truth be told, but she was solid, honest, and good. She’d been raised to know that wet work was part of the life. Had been nurtured to accept that the things men did for the family weren’t always the nicest, but it was just how it was.
She wouldn’t question. She would only accept.
But for all that, she wasn’t biddable.
Even back then, I’d seen the spark in her.
I’d actually seen what would trigger a career in art that still took me aback.
A few years ago, I’d seen her in Manhattan, and I’d started keeping tabs on her. Those tabs, however, hadn’t enlightened me to the fact that she was a single mom. If they had, I’d have looked into the kid, because how she and Dec had ended things, over a goddamn grave, it wouldn’t have surprised me if there’d been a baby. And I’d been right.
Which just proved that I should have listened to my instincts.
Heaving a sigh, I pointed at the screen, put my phone on mute so she couldn’t hear me but I could hear her weeping, and I told Conor, “Hack into her security system.”
He sniffed. “Bitch, please. I’m already in. What do you want?”
“Eyes on her.”
“She’s in the bedroom, right?”