“Their hands…” She didn’t finish.
“What about their hands?” He reached over, placing a hand on her thigh, surprised she didn’t flinch away.
“They were covered in tats. The ink was similar on each one.” She refused to think of the blood soaking through their shirts, their eyes open and fixed.
“The tats may help identify them.” He caught the way her eyelids flickered, then closed. “Why don’t you stretch out and get some sleep?”
Eyes fluttering open, she stifled a yawn, a wan smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “Maybe I should. Just for a little while.”
Slipping down, she grabbed a throw pillow for her head, stretching her legs out. She sighed when Fuse lifted her legs, setting them across his thighs. Caressing her calves, he watched her features relax. Within minutes, Brittany slept.
After several minutes, he carefully lifted her legs and stood. Grabbing one of the sandwiches Mitch had set on the coffee table, he began a tour of the house, ending in his office. Gunner sat at the computer, monitoring the cameras.
“Anything?”
“All clear.” Gunner bit into his own sandwich, chewing while he moved between screens. “I doubt they’ll be able to regroup so soon. Hell, whoever sent them might not know they failed.”
Fuse swallowed the last bite of his food, snorting. “They know. What surprises me is how much they underestimated us. I doubt they did more than discover where I live and execute a poorly planned attack.”
“They had to have connected you with the Brethren.”
“I don’t know, Gunner. The attack happened soon after we arrived at the house. They must’ve tracked us here.”
“After what Ethan told Wrath, what I can’t figure out is why the Devils weren’t the ones who came for Brittany. Why the Russians?”
“Could be the Night Devil Ethan interrogated lied. Or they were ordered to hold off. The next attack could come from either group.” Gunner glanced over his shoulder at Fuse. “Or they could join forces.”
Fuse had been thinking the same. Kell’s men were a combination of Rangers, Delta, SEALs, Marine Force Recon, and Air Force Pararescuers. He believed Mitch’s were the same. Paired with the Brethren, men from the most elite ranks of the SEALs, they would be a formidable combination.
They might need every one of them if the Russians and Devils joined forces.
Chapter Seventeen
Grizzly rode his bike in front of two of his men, the roar of their engines calming the anger eating at him. He’d been ready to explode since getting the call from Vulture to stand down.
There’d been little satisfaction when he’d learned the Russians had made a mess of the abduction. Their failure would make the Devils’ next attempt more difficult.
Wrath and Kell weren’t fools. Pooling their resources would make it almost impossible to grab the senator’s daughter.
Vulture had tracked down the location of Fuse’s property, but no detailed layout of the house. Grizzly knew it was positioned inside fifty acres with a barn and corrals. He assumed there’d be an elaborate security system.
Taking a turn, his men followed him along a tree lined road to a simple stucco house. Three bikes were already parked out front, along with a large SUV. He’d expected the bikes. Vulture, his VP, and sergeant-at-arms had ridden in to plan how to go against the Brethren.
Dismounting, Grizzly looked around, a prickle of unease rippled up his spine. Something felt off.
Taking the cement walk to the front door, he didn’t bother to knock. Shoving the door open, voices drew him and his men toward a room near the back. Their boots clomped on the laminated wood floor, signaling their arrival. Stepping through an open doorway, they came to a dead stop.
On one side of the room stood Vulture, Fingers, and Viper from the national chapter. Opposite them were four men, all with dark hair, short beards, and eyes the color of black coal. What drew Grizzly’s attention were the tats on their fingers, hands, and forearms. Tats he recognized as being worn by members of the Russian Mafia.
“Vulture.” Grizzly lifted his chin at Fingers and Viper. “You boys know Hammer and Slider.” His gaze narrowed on the four unknowns. “What’s going on?”
“This is Viktor Gelonkin.” Vulture pointed to the oldest of the four, his short beard more gray than black. “He hired us to acquire the woman.”
Grizzly smirked, a sneer twisting his lips. “Is that so? I heard a group of Russians slipped inside before us. Didn’t turn out so well for them.”
The men with Viktor took a step toward him, stopping when their boss held up a hand. “This man is right.” He moved in front of his men. “We misjudged our opponent. Arrogant of us.”
Grizzly didn’t respond, surprised at Viktor’s honest answer. His attention shifted to Vulture. “What now?”
“Good question.” Vulture gestured toward Viktor. “We’re here for the answer.”
“It is simple. We underestimated the ability of the men holding the woman. They were organized and well-armed.”
“You should’ve asked,” Grizzly said. “Or better, not called us off.”
Viktor shrugged. “Perhaps. That is irrelevant. We still want the woman.” His piercing black eyes met Vulture’s. “Can you bring her to us?”
“The answer is the same as before. Because of your monumental fuck up, it will cost twice as much.”
Viktor stiffened, jaw ticking. The only tells of his displeasure.
The Russians were known for their lack of loyalty to those outside of the tight-knit members of the various syndicates. Not that they wouldn’t turn on their own. They were equally ruthless to anyone suspected of crossing them. Russian or not.
Rubbing his jaw, Viktor gave a slow nod. “I want her within twenty-four hours.”
“Too soon. We need forty-eight to devise the plan.” Vulture didn’t mention two of his most trusted men, Trick and Pistol, had ridden into town with him, Fingers, and Viper.
“For double the price, you will have her to me in twenty-four. If you can’t produce her…” Again, Viktor shrugged. “We have other sources.”
“Twenty-four hours with half the money now and the rest when you get the woman,” Vulture gritted out.
The two men squared-off, neither flinching, the room going eerily quiet. The others tensed, hands moving to the weapons tucked into their waistbands. A minute passed, then another, before Viktor raised his hands.
“Twenty-five percent wired into your account today. The rest when you bring the woman to us.”
Vulture pulled a torn piece of paper from his pocket, handing it to Viktor. “Bank info. If the money isn’t in there by midnight, our deal is off.”
Taking the paper, Viktor gave Vulture a curt nod before walking out with his men.
“It’s time to get ready, Fuse.” Mitch stood beside him on the patio, both each nursing sodas. They’d rather have been holding beers, a strict no-go while on an op. “The gear is hidden by the back fence.”
“Are Rock and Ghost en route?”
Mitch checked the time. “Twenty minutes out. Go time is midnight.”
Tossing the remaining contents of his glass onto the grass, Fuse turned to look through the glass doors into the house. Wrath’s plan was a bold move. Also a stroke of genius.