In turn, that surety settled inside me and I released a snotty sob as I hugged him harder.
We’d almost died, hadn’t we?
Again.
Those fucking bastard Sparrows.
Those motherfucking pussy assholes.
I was going to fuck those fuckers up. Tear them to shreds. Rip them to pieces—
"I had to pull the kill switch."
Aidan rasped, "What does that mean in regards to our security?"
"The system was being overridden. The only way to kick out the intruder was to enter the kill switch sequence. The elevator’s a brick now so you’re safe because you’re locked in there."
"A brick?" I whispered brokenly.
"It means it’s useless. We’ll need firefighters to fish us out," Aidan explained calmly, and though I had no idea how he was so fucking calm at that moment, it dramatically cut down on my panic.
I didn’t let go of him, my hold on him absolute as I clung to him, feeling weak and like a pussy but SOMEONE HAD HACKED AN ELEVATOR TO TRY TO KILL ME. I thought I was well within my rights to feel goddamn shaken.
"We’re going to have to change the internal computer. It’s fried," Conor rumbled.
"How did they get in, Conor?" Aidan asked quietly.
I didn’t know Conor, not at all in the grand scheme of things. But he released a snarl that was so like his brother’s, it came as a surprise. Throughout that crisis, he’d been calm aside from the pounding of his fingers as he tried to save us.
"I’m working on it," was all Conor said.
"Da’ll find out if we need firefighters."
"I know."
Aidan released a breath. "Prepare yourself for his bullshit."
"I’m already prepared," Conor snapped. "I’m going to work on shoring up the building’s defenses, but though we can use the other elevators, it’s not ideal—"
"Did they want us to freefall or did they want to board it?"
"They were taking you to the eighteenth floor."
"You’ve sent some of our men there?"
"Yes. I’ll keep you updated on who was waiting."
"Trap them inside the building then take them to the Hole," Aidan commanded.
"Will do. I’ll call Brennan’s crew to get their help with hauling them over."
"Good. The Fire Department is on their way?"
"Yes. They were notified when I realized someone was hacking the elevators."
"This needs to stop happening, Conor."
His younger brother released a growl. "I fucking know, Aidan."
"Maybe we need to tell Da you have to have a break."
"A break?" Conor’s laugh was the angriest sound I’d ever heard, and I’d been around a detoxing hair band that used coke like it was oxygen. "How’s that going to go down, Aidan? We’re neck-deep with the Sparrows.
"Look, I recognized someone had infiltrated the building’s security. I was on it. I was just concerned. You were about to hit the eighteenth floor. I needed to not let that happen.
"Code was written to be broken. The expectation that mine is unbreachable is beyond unrealistic. I’m not a magician, and my work isn’t sanctified. If it was, maybe then it’d never be breached. Unfortunately for us, I’m just a guy."
"You’re not just anything to Da."
Conor growled. "Did you hear what I said?"
"I did, and I get it," Aidan soothed, using a tone I’d heard him use with me which was interesting. "I’ll tell Da."
"This isn’t about the fine," Conor growled. "This is about expectations, and his being impossible."
"Like they aren’t for all of us," Aidan retorted.
Conor released a sharp breath. "You’re not wrong there. Look, you’re in between floors now. It’s going to be awkward to get you out of there," he warned.
"Oh, my God, we dropped sixty floors?" I squeaked, my hands clutching Aidan’s jacket as my brain finally allowed me to do math.
He reached down and patted my hand, his calm in this storm so clear that I recognized how he wasn’t flustered by any of this.
I thought I knew what to expect from the mobster world. I’d spent more than half my life reading up on it, for God’s sake. But this was so much more than I’d anticipated. Myopic, sure, but being in the spotlight was a hell of a lot different than researching light bulbs.
"You’ll be stuck for a while," Conor finished, almost as if I hadn’t spoken.
"We can’t get any lights on in here?" Aidan rasped.
"No," came the brusque reply.
A soft whimper broke free from my lips, and it shamed me. The noise fucking shamed me as much as if I’d just pissed myself. They didn’t need me to be weak, they needed me to be brave. Yet here I was, whimpering.
Neither of them wanted this.
Neither of them would even be involved in this if it weren’t for me.
Aidan could have been killed and Conor was going to have to replace an expensive machine because of me.
I reached up and pressed a closed fist to my lips, but like he knew, like he felt what I was doing, Aidan shifted around, moving so that I knew he was facing me because I felt the flaps of his sport coat drift apart.
"Conor, get them to work as fast as you can, okay?"
"Of course. I’ll pay them extra to get a move on."
"Keep me in the loop?"
"Will do. For the moment, I’m monitoring all elevator traffic. Only faces that pass the security metric and are identified as residents of The Sharpe or as recent visitors to The 68 will be allowed to use them. Even then, the elevators will only travel down, not up. Speak later."
I rocked my head back against the mirrored wall the second Conor’s voice disappeared, and the only word that came into my mind was, "Sorry." I licked my lips. "I’m so sorry, Aidan."
He moved with a precision that I wasn’t sure why I was surprised by. Aidan seemed like a magician to me, capable of pulling moves out of thin air like they were rabbits out of a top hat. His hand came up to rub his thumb along my cheek as he asked, "What are you sorry for?"
A bark of harsh laughter escaped me. "For putting your life in danger. For the inconvenience? For the expense?"
Aidan grunted. "I told you you weren’t ready for this world. They’re all costs of doing business, Savannah. It’s a first that anyone’s gotten into one of our buildings and done this, but people fuck with us all the time. Today’s no different other than the elevator was carrying precious cargo."
I swallowed. "Your father would have been so mad at me—"
He released another grunt as he dipped forward and pressed a kiss to my temple. "Wasn’t talking about me, little one."
A shaken sigh escaped me as I pressed into him, sliding my arms around his waist again and huddling into him. He immediately facilitated the move, holding me close, and as I pressed my ear to his chest, I heard the steady beat of his heart and knew that he really wasn’t scared, knew that he really meant what he said.
To him, I was precious cargo.
Which settled me, somehow.
Deep inside, where all the shit was riled up, all the fear from yesterday and now this, all the adrenaline from the initial release of the exposés, the rush of writing the articles, it seemed to settle down.