Page 30 of Shared

I shake my head as Finn teases, “How the fuck did we all agree to add a second Declan to this family?”

“Don’t be a fucking twat.” Rory does his best to mock Declan, his accuracy makes Finn grip the steering wheel and grit his teeth. As though Rory can see Finn’s reaction, he chuckles, “You’re all fucking lucky to have me.”He’s right. We are. In the past few years, I’ve spilled as much blood beside Rory as I have with my blood-brothers. He might not carry our name, but Rory is an Evans through and through.

When we turn onto the street Rory is parked on, I immediately spot the police cruiser parked before a small brick Cape Cod surrounded by a waist-high wrought-iron fence. There is oneofficer in the car, one pacing the front yard, and I can only imagine at least one more covering the rear of the house.

Down the block, we pass Rory and pull into the driveway of a home with a for sale sign posted in the yard. My heart beats a little harder than usual, and I wipe my sweaty palms on my thighs of my trousers. “Circling back to Finn’s question… Do we have a fucking plan or are we just going in guns blazing?”

“I’ve got an idea,” Finn blurts.

Oh fuck…

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CONOR

I swallow back a mouthful of whiskey from a bottle I grabbed out of the back of Finn’s Bronco and spill some down the front of my shirt before passing the bottle to Ivan. Following my lead, he splatters some on his shirt and throws back a shot. His face scrunches like he just drank drain cleaner. “Ugh… fucking whiskey.”

“Next time, I’ll make sure to stop and pick up a bottle of vodka first,” I snark, pulling on a baseball hat and taking the bottle back from him.

Assuming we all live to see a next time…

Ivan and I stumble together down the sidewalk, our boisterous voices echoing in the otherwise empty street as we continue to pass the bottle of Jameson between us. “What’s happening?” Ivan fakes a loud, drunken slur as we cross the street toward the police car.

“Move it, unless you want to be taken in for public intoxication,” the officer climbing from the car barks.

“We don’t have time for the two of them.” The officer patrolling the front yard shakes his head at the other cop as he joins us on the sidewalk. Turning his attention to us, he gestures for us to keep on our way. “It’s nothing that concerns you. Just head home.”

The cop standing beside the cruiser narrows his eyes and looks at me suspiciously, tentatively reaching his hand toward my hat as the other wraps around the butt of his holstered gun.Fuck…He tips my hat just far enough to get a good look at my face. “Christ! They’re Eva?—”

The knife I plunge between two of his ribs and into his lung cuts his words short. Before the other cop has a second to react, Ivan drags a knife across his throat. Both lay bleeding out at our feet as my eyes dart toward the house in hope that the short outburst wasn’t loud enough to draw the attention of anyone inside. Silence—other than the wet gurgles of last breaths beneath me.

“Fuck,” I exhale.

“You hoped this would be easy”—he scoops his arms under one dead cop and drags the slender man toward the back of the police car—“but we all knew this was going to be dirty. Pop the fucking trunk, and then I’ll help you with the big one.”

Us Evans aren’t saints by any stretch of the imagination, but we’re quite cautious about killing cops. It’s messy, and it brings heat—and it’s best to only do it out of necessity.Staying alive and out of prison is a necessity, you fucking twat.

By the time we’re stowing the second cop, Finn and Rory join us at the front gate of the house. Finn tosses a ski mask at each of us, matching the ones he and Rory are already wearing. I quickly pull it over my head and pull my gun from the waistband of mypants. Ivan takes the lead, pushing through the gate and leaping up the front steps. The rest of us are right behind him, stomping up the concrete steps and barreling through the solid navy door.

Shots ring out, and my nostrils fill with drywall dust as we storm into the house. “Blyat!” Ivan grits. Spinning toward him, I spot a crimson stain quickly spreading across the sleeve of his shirt. He shakes his head. “Just nicked me.”

Rory and Finn both fire their guns from beside me, jarring my attention from Ivan. I turn just in time to watch two plain-clothed cops fall to the floor. Stepping through the threshold and into the living room, I quickly scan the room to find it empty. By the time I see Vlad lingering in the dark corner beside me, it’s too late.

He shoves the muzzle into my side with such force that I’m surprised it doesn’t break skin or crack a rib. “I’m not getting out of here alive.” His thick Russian accent makes his mumbles barely comprehendible. “But that’s going to make two of us.” His words are loud and fucking clear. So loud that I don’t hear the gun when it fires. I hear nothing as a searing pain shoots repeatedly through my side. It’s so agonizing I can barely cry out as I struggle to gasp for a breath. Loud bangs echo around me, and a faint metallic taste washes over my tastebuds as my knees buckle. I hit the floor with an audible thud, but all I can feel is the agony in my chest. I stare into Vlad’s lifeless eyes as I suck in short, wet breaths, and it take me a minute to notice the hole in his forehead.

The thump of my heartbeat echoes in my ears. It muffles Finn’s cries as he drops to his knees beside me, tearing the mask from my face. “Fuck! Con!”

“Finn,” I choke on the thick, metallic liquid filling my mouth. Grabbing the bottom of his shirt, Finn wipes my face, staining it a deep red.Blood…I’m fucking drowning in my own blood.

“I’m gonna need your help, Con,” Finn demands, slipping his arms under mine. “I can’t carry your big ass of here.”

“Fuck y—” I gurgle, trying futilely to push myself up off the floor as he tries to lift me. Shoved onto my back, multiple hands grab at me, and I’m jostled around as the three of them—Rory and Finn under my arms and Ivan holding my legs—carry me down the hallway.

Struggling to maintain his hold, Rory breathlessly grits, “If my old ass can make it, so can yours.”

Fuck… It’s bad…

My eyes jolt open when my side burns. Blinking rapidly—and struggling to keep my eyes open—it takes me a moment to realize I’m in the back of Finn’s Bronco. He’s straddling me and pouring powder over the oozing holes in my side.Quick Clot.The blood pumping from me slows, but it does nothing to stop it from filling my mouth.

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