Page 33 of Brutal Collateral

“Griff,” Connor calls out to me. “What’s wrong?”

I straighten my back. “Wrong?”

“You’re staring at the floor.”

I shake that away. Is that what thinking of Hadleigh does to me? Makes me look like a zombie? I have to forget her. I’ll never see her again.

Focusing, I say, “Get Trace and Rhys, we’re going in.”

“It’s Trace’s wedding ceremony today,” Shane reminds me.

“Fuck,” I bite out. “We have to do this without them then. We’ve delayed this long enough.”

“The wedding is uptown, too,” Connor says. “Let’s go to Morningside, storm the castle, kill Brandon, then go drink champagne to celebrate. If Ava is with us, even better. You can introduce her to everyone.”

“This is no time to fucking joke,” I snap at my wacko brother.

But ugh, a wedding... I’ll be getting married soon, too. Maybe.

“We’ve been watching Keller for a month, and he picks today to—” I stop and start kicking the desk. “Shane, does that prick have hooks into us?”

Shane glares at me. “I’ve monitored everything from that building. Brandon hasn’t called anyone. He doesn’t want anyone to know where he is. They barely used the Wi-Fi except to order food and...women.”

“Could someone have leaked info to Brandon?” I ask, pacing.

“No,” Shane insists.

“I guess it’s a hell of a coincidence.” I shake my head.

Only, after twenty years of doing investigations and hits, Iknowthere are no coincidences. For some reason mysicariotattoo itches. Hitman tats Ewan and I got when we started doing hits for Fergus O’Rourke.

“How do we surprise them if Keller has guards patrolling the block, Shane?” I ask Mr. Logistics.

Before he can answer, Connor gets snide with me, “I told you we needed a helicopter, but noooo, someone went and bought a plane.”

Our plane made its inaugural journey to Ireland to rescue Trace and his bride-to-be, Shea O’Rourke.

“I’ll get us a helicopter,” Shane says, swearing under his breath. “Sabine’s brother-in-law uses a guy regularly. Name’s Seth.”

The idea of getting on a helicopter again leaves me queasy for a moment, since the last one we were in crashed.

***

WITHIN THE HOUR, WEare in a bird headed toward the roof of the building where Brandon is hiding. Shane jams cameras and kills cell service for several blocks in every direction while keeping an eye on his drone footage.

“Brandon is still there,” he assures us, but sounds...concerned.

And that fucking concerns me.

“Talk to me, Shane,” I say, nudging him.

“This operation was full steam ahead a few hours ago. And now...nothing. I don’t see anyone. But the truck is still there.”

“Is it still loaded up?” Connor asks, leaning in to look at the photos.

“Aye,” Shane answers. “But it’s idling. Unattended.”

We all stare at each other. Non-movement all of a sudden on a busy target out of nowhere usually means something grim happened.

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