Page 8 of Savage Promises

“I tested the waters.” Garrett sniffs. “Fed them intel.”

“Against the Irish?” I practically screech.

“No. Some Russian asshole I met in another bar got drunk and started spewing shipment routes of ammunition. I took that info and fed it to the Albanians. Once they had the Bratva’s ammo, they paid me. But they want more.”

I stare at my brother, horrified. Garrett is my blood, I can’t rid him from my life. But I’m on a strict budget. I have upgraded glassware on order, and I’ve signed a contract for a jazz band to play once a week for the next few months.

“Gar,” I whisper. “Find another job. Arealone. Get away from Dad and the mob. You’re not cut out for it. Starting over isn’t something to be ashamed of.”

“You don’t get it.” He pushes his glass off the bar. “You got your dream. And becauseI backed you. Now pay up!”

I dig my sharp fingernails into his arm. “Yeah, I needed you because Dad puts me last. He only cares about you, his precious heir, and Neve, his princess. You will both be compensated handily one day.”

“Fine, you’ve left me no choice.” Garrett stands up. “The Albanians will pay meseriousmoney for the weapons I’m moving for the Quinlans tomorrow night. One score like this and I’m out of the hole with my dealer.”

“Jesus, Garrett.” I stare at him, my throat tight anddry. “You think the Quinlans won’t find out?” I know Shane leads their spying team and planted cameras all over the city. “They’re stronger than ever now. They’ll crush you.”

Garrett’s jaw tightens. “I can handle it. I have it figured out. They already got a visit from ATF. That’s my alibi.”

“You’re fooling yourself, living in some fantasy world if you think you’re smarter than...”

“Don’t you fucking sayhisname.” Garrett’s death stare has me stepping back.

He taps the surface of the bar with a shaking hand. And before I can argue further, my gaze shifts over his shoulder. A man at the far end of the bar watches me with steady scrutiny. His dark wool jacket, unshaven face, and amber eyes set off alarm bells.

Albanian.

I know the look and the warning signs. Their torture methods are nothing short of gore.

Garrett notices, too, and curses under his breath. “See, I’ve stalled. They tracked me down. I have to act. Right now. Tonight.” Garrett takes out a few singles and tosses the pathetic tip on the bar. “I gotta go.”

“Garrett, wait!”

“I’m handling it, Lennox. You had your chance to help. Stay out of my life.” The echo of those harsh words crushes my heart as he strides toward the Albanian.

Garrett and his new business partner disappear out the front door before I can stop him.

Damn it.

CHAPTER TWO

Shane Quinlan

The sharp echo of gunfire rattles through the underground range I set up for our weapons testing and guard training. The scent of gunpowder clings to the air, stinging my nose as I lower the ghost gun I designed.

“Perfect spread. Dead center,” I remark proudly, the barrel still warm in my grip.

“Youperfected it,” my brother Connor drawls from behind me in a brogue so deep it can melt steel. “Da would be proud.”

Mentioning our father, who passed away nine months ago, tightens my throat.

“But he’d ask why you’re always in a damn suit.” Connor knocks my arm. “Leather jackets not your style anymore, baby brother?”

I ignore the gratingbabycomment even though he’s technically accurate. Out of all six Quinlan kids, at thirty-two, I am the youngest.

“I didn’t have time to change from an earlier meeting with the mayor.” My suits aren’t just mere clothing anymore, they’re worn to command respect before I open my mouth.

The fine fabric and a well-tailored fit are my quiet power. And the way people straighten up when I walk into the room? I fucking love that.

---