Page 92 of Dirty Legacy

The firework explosions resolve into automatic weapons and the first scream of pain echoes from down below.

Holy shit.

This is happening.

“Help me with my mom.” I sprint back into my mother’s room, Rowan on my heels. “Mom! We have to go!”

“What are you shouting about? Come on, chill out.” She beams at me, eyes bloodshot and unfocused. “These gummies are crazy.”

“Jesus fucking—Rowan, get her other side.”

I sling Mom’s right arm around my shoulders and heave her up. Rowan gets on the other side. Mom laughs, baked as hell, as we drag her stumbling to the door. But fuck, shit, she’s hardly helping. We’re lucky Mom barely eats and is like ninety pounds at best, because otherwise there’s no way in heck we’d be able to get anywhere.

As it stands, we’re moving at a crawl, and the shouting and shooting is getting louder.

“I got her, you run,” I tell Rowan as we stagger to the wing doors. “Go find your parents. I’ll be right behind you.”

“No way, you won’t make it.” Rowan is trembling. She’s pale and tears roll down her face, but she clutches Mom tighter. “I won’t leave you two behind.”

“What nice girls,” Mom mutters, head lolling. “Oh, boy. Did I take too much?”

“Shit!” Another blast rocks the building. It feels like the floor flexes and jumps. I stagger sideways and lose hold of Mom. She tumbles down, rolling a few times, smiling stupidly at the ceiling. Rowan pushes herself back to her feet and helps me up.

“Shit, Angie, you’re pregnant. We have to be careful with you.”

“It’s fine, I’m still early. Help me with⁠—“

A man comes sprinting around the corner.

Connor

Marcus scrolls on his phone as the Mercedes glides through traffic. I watch out the window as the city sprawls around us, heading back toward Manhattan, and it feels like all of New York is somehow against me, like there are faces in the thousands of windows and they’re all praying for my death.

I’m not sure where this mood came from. Angie’s doing well. She’s getting along with my family, and that’s the most important thing in the world right now. Even Danielle grudgingly admits my wife is fucking great.

Maybe it’s that I’m not with her right now. Every time I have to leave the mansion, I feel like I’m making a horrible mistake. Angie’s my world now, my everything, and the baby growing in her is more precious than all my money and power combined. My soldiers will take care of her, and Deck would never let anyone get near the core of our strength, but even still.

I miss her when she’s not around.

Marcus nudges me with his elbow. “Brother, got a message.”

“Yeah? What’s going on?”

“Looks like she needs to cancel. Doesn’t say why though.” He turns the screen so I can read the text. Something came up. Can’t meet anymore. Another time.

“That’s strange,” I say, checking my device, but she only reached out to Marcus. “Why would Sinead set up another meeting only to back out at the last second?”

“Don’t know, but I agree, it’s off.”

I tell the driver to turn around and head back. Relief floods me knowing I’ll be home soon. I’m thinking I’ll sit with Angie for a while, maybe bring her over to spend time with my dad and Rowan, or maybe we’ll go for a walk around the grounds. The doctor said light exercise would be good for her right now. And fresh air can’t hurt. I’ll make sure she eats something healthy, takes her vitamins⁠—

My phone starts buzzing.

“I bet that’s Sinead,” I say, taking it from my pocket again. “Probably gave you a text and decided to call the actual boss.”

“Right, since you’re so important.” Marcus flips me off and taps at his screen.

But it’s not Sinead’s number on the display.