Page 79 of Dublin Devil

“We’ll get Piper back for you, brother.” Brendan lays his AR-15 across his knee. “Whatever we need to do.”

“Without killing Russians.” Bryan gives Brenny a knowing look. “Tag said this won’t work if we kill the Russians.”

That will be a challenge.

If they hurt her or violated her, they will be put down.

It’s been hours since she was taken, and we’re only just launching our assault. It was hell waiting for the sun to go down, but Tag needed time to work his magic, and we needed the cover of darkness to get into McGuire territory without tipping anyone off.

Thanks to Kieran’s informant following the limo from the cemetery, we know where Mattie McGuire moved the Russians after we snatched them from the Nyx Hotel.

It’s a private estate home that backs onto Vance’s Harbour in the neighborhood of Blackrock. It’s also a stone’s throw from several of the McGuire warehouses.

Location, location, location.

“Almost there,” Gallagher whispers into the comms from the lead boat.

Bryan scans the shoreline with a night vision scope.

I tap my earpiece and wait for the beep. “Everyone ready?”

We’ve got two dozen Devils across the three boats, all of which are equally focused on getting back my girl and fucking up Mattie McGuire’s plans at the same time.

“Remember to be quiet as we move up the beach. We need the element of surprise and don’t know if this party they’re having has spilled out onto the grounds.”

The boats slow as we near land, the outline of the mansion glowing against the starlit sky. It’s a fortress, but many of my guys are ex-military and know how to breach a target.

The important part is that Piper is inside and no one in her life is looking out for her. The betrayal of her parents is unforgiveable. They will pay for hurting her.

“Arriving in two.”

Gallagher’s voice, barely audible over the comms, brings me back to the moment at hand.

I’m coming, kitten. Hold on.

Everyone checks their weapons one last time, securing silencers, and patting the extra mags in their vests. The hull of the boat gently grinds against the gravelly beach. We disembark swiftly, and fan out, taking cover behind the natural brush and rocks dotting the landscape.

Gallagher’s team finds shelter behind an upcropping of rocks. “Good luck, boys. Safe home.”

“Safe home,” I say, watching as ten silhouetted shadows stalk up the beach. “Light up the skies, boys.”

When they’re on their way, I refocus on our part of the plan. The mansion looms above a small crest ahead, garden lights dancing against the darkness, its party guests unaware of the storm about to hit.

Brendan moves up beside me, his gaze scanning the perimeter. “The guards on patrol are McGuire men, not Russian. Tag has no problem with us taking them out, right?”

“None at all,” I respond, adjusting my grip on my rifle. “Kieran, take your team to the west and front, silent takedowns of any and all McGuire guards you come across.”

“Copy that,” Kieran responds.

“Brenny, your team has the east and the back of the house to secure our exit.”

“Got it.”

“Bryan, you’re with me.”

It’s nods all around and then we’re jogging off in a crouched run, dodging from shadow to shadow as I close the distance between me and my girl.

As we stalk closer, the mansion’s opulence seems strangely out of place for Mattie McGuire and his Bratva contacts. There’s a woman playing a fucking harp and an ice sculpture, for fuck’s sake.

---