AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I was never directly involved, and that was fine by me. Growing up on the West Side, I could read between the lines just fine. That’s when I started bundling my get away fund and contacted one of my forgery clients for the favor with the passport.
It’s a genuine passport—my forger client works within the government passport agency—and can put her clientele directly into the system.
She’s that good.
And since I listened to my mom and kept my bank account separate from Marco’s, I always had control of my exit strategy.
Sadly, that was her one regret. She’d bound everything she was into my father and their shared life. When things went badly, she didn’t have the means to walk away and provide for us.
She was trapped.
I close my eyes as hot tears warm the sides of my face. How could I have lost Mom? Sure, there were bullets flying, but I didn’t even remember until we were standing on that stoop.
And now I can’t leave until I get her back.
Having lived through one home invasion because of a man being tied to organized crime, I’m in no hurry to repeat the experience.
The fear slowly subsides as the details of the dream fade into the soft shadows of the room. I’ll get Mom back, figure out how to get away from here, and then I’ll start my new life.
The duvet isn’t heavy enough to ground me, a flimsy shield against the chill that has settled deep in my bones. The digital clock on the bedside table reads 3:07 AM.
Flipping back the covers, I wander to the window to stare out at the grounds at night.
Shadows move in the darkness, and I freeze.
The home invasion is too fresh not to panic.
But no. It’s Tag’s men…loading things into a van…at three in the morning.
Are those bodies?
I close my eyes, a wash of dread overwhelming me. Pulling the duvet over my head, I try to unsee what I think I just saw.
I doubt sleep will be my companion tonight, but that’s fine. The time will be better used to figure out how to get out of this mess.
And away from Tag Quinn.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Tag
“Shit, boys. Looks like things got grisly down there.” Finn stares at Bryan, Brendan, and me as the three of us emerge from the basement. To see the twins bloodied up isn’t unusual—they practically invented the Irish Donnybrook—but I try not to let the beast in me take the reins.
Tonight, I failed.
“Had McGuire’s men been more forthcoming, this wouldn’t have been necessary,” I say.
“Or as much fun,” Bryan counters. “It did give us a little extra conditioning for our fight next week.”
Brendan secures the latch to the basement door and turns on the alarm. “I like it when they hold out. It’s more of a challenge.”
“But they caved?” Finn asks.
Bryan waggles his brow. “Pinch a man’s cock between the blades of gardening sheers and he’ll always cave.”
“Brutal,” Finn winces and adjusts himself.
I shake my head. “Thanks for your help, boys.”
