Page 83 of Brick's Retribution

I work through the financial maze, moving money from Torres family accounts through several shells before landing in the Swiss account.

To anyone watching, it looks like standard cartel money laundering.

Which, technically, it is.

"Done," I confirm. "We're officially on their radar as buyers."

We’ll need to get the other five million from the Ramirez accounts, but that can be done later.

At least the deposit will be where it needs to be.

"Good," Amara says. "Now we wait. And prepare. Boulder, I want you and Doom running drills. Brick, you and Imani need to practice your cover stories until they're second nature."

"What about backup inside?" Brick asks. "If things go sideways?—"

"You'll have each other," Amara interrupts. "That has to be enough. These operations have people who are paranoid as all hell. One buyer and one bodyguard is standard. Anything more raises flags."

I reach for Brick's hand under the table, needing the contact.

He squeezes back, steady and sure.

"We've got this," I say, projecting more confidence than I feel.

"Yes," Amara agrees. "You do. Because failure isn't an option. Not with Lashes's life on the line. Not with what these bastards are doing to innocent women."

The meeting breaks up, but the weight of what's coming lingers.

One week to prepare for walking into hell.

One week to get ready to face the monsters who took Brick's best friend and want to add me to their collection.

One week to plan a rescue that could get us all killed.

But as I look at Brick, see the determination in those amber eyes, I know we'll take the risk.

For Lashes.

For all the women these bastards have taken.

For the chance to burn their whole operation to the ground.

"Come on," Brick says, standing and pulling me with him. "Let's go practice being criminals. Well, bigger criminals than we already are."

I laugh, even if I shouldn’t, because he's right.

We're all criminals here in our own way.

The difference is we have lines we won't cross, people we protect, family we'd die for.

That's what separates us from the true monsters.

And in one week, we'll prove it.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Brick

The sound of flesh hitting leather echoes through the clubhouse gym as I work the heavy bag, sweat dripping down my bare chest even though I shouldn’t be doing this.

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