Page 84 of Iron Crown

“I’ll be here, finishing the fight.” I would not rest until it was done.

Thatwas my duty as a husband and father.

“Are you really going to let her go?” Shiny asked, a brow quirked.

“It’s what’s best for everyone.”Everyone except for me.

Chapter twenty-six

Self-Inflicted

Kira

Construction was never a job I thought I could do. My father had done it once in a while to put food on the table, because it was skilled labor, and the pay was nice, but for myself? No. I had the luxury of being an artist and occasional barista.

Evenfakeconstruction was arduous work.

To help with our cover, we had even dug up part of the pavement. We had arealcement truck, and would re-pave a part of the small road that led to the Durante mansion. There were fewer than a dozen of us on this side of the road. The task itself, with our flak vests beneath heavy jackets, beneath reflective roadvests, was difficult, since our weapons were strapped beneath layers of clothes.

The weather was crisp, so at least that made it somewhat believable.

Several orange cones and signs warned oncoming traffic to turn away and detour to the right. It would lead them to a road that looped to the other side, and would join up with the crew on the other end, making them bypass the small drive that headed up a winding route to the Durante compound.

“They’re in place,” Blink said over a two-way radio.

If all went well, it would only be a matter of hours before things were settled.

I looked around, a strange sensation niggling at the back of my mind. It was the unmistakable feeling that things were about to go absolutely ape-shit crazy.

There were fewer than a dozen in each crew we had, and about twenty more soldiers who were ready to respond to any emergency, hidden up the road in armored SUVs. Our job was to sit and wait.

I swallowed, feeling that strange and nagging pain in my hand, like something was about to go wrong with Eoghan.

I took a deep breath, letting it out through my nose, as it steamed in the frigid air.

The sound of a heavy engine pricked at my ears, and I turned my head to see a large truck, hauling a shipping container, comingour way. The horn blared, and Blink walked to the middle of the road, his radio in hand, and an orange construction hat on his head.

The truck stopped, and the driver leaned out. “Get out of the way!”

What the hell was going on?

“Go around!” Blink said in his best, though very fake, American accent, as he pointed the way of the detour sign. Someone else went up to the orange rectangular sign and pointed at it as if the driver were blind or dumb.

“I’m going that way!” the driver said, getting back into his seat and loudly blaring the horn.

A car that came up behind him decided to skirt down the shoulder of the road to get to the detour.

“Listen, prick, I’m going that way, so your people better get out of the way,” the driver called again.

The traffic that was backed up behind the truck began easing around him, taking the first car’s lead until the traffic cleared.

“No,” Blink said, then, frustratedly, “Go around.”

“I’m warning you, I’m going through!”

The truck lurched forward, and in a flash, I reached for the pistol at my ankle and fired, taking out the front wheel, which deflated like a withering balloon.

The driver was absolutely incensed, he looked down at his tire, and looked at me.

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