Page 113 of Reactant

“Mulhall is Errol Derrick’s stepbrother,” Hunter answered.

“As in the weasel one?” Sebastian asked, brows furrowing. “He wasn’t in charge. The other one was.” His shoulder brushed Peyton’s.

Peyton agreed wholeheartedly with that assessment. Dane had been the one giving the orders and keeping his companion in check. Even when they had attacked him and Sebastian in Sebastian’s home, the leash had been short.

“Mulhall sent Sweeney here to kill Howell and Derrick, not protect them. Not talk to them,” Quinn said. “The connection doesn’t make any sense.”

“When Mulhall was arrested, there was a sizeable sum of money that wasn’t seized by the police. The reason they didn’t take it was because it was in Derrick’s bank account. There were no legal connections between the two men; Derrick’s mother and Mulhall’s father were together for fifteen years but not officially married, and they never filed paperwork together.”

“Tax fraud?” Quinn asked.

Sebastian moved behind Peyton, one hand on his shoulder blade. Peyton could feel his body heat, and he subtly leaned into it, taking strength from him.

“Possibly. Irrelevant for our current concerns. The police didn’t find the money, because they didn’t make the connection. From what our two agents in Melbourne could deduce, the funds were supposed to be used to get Mulhall a defence lawyer worth his weight in gold—someone of Sebastian’s experience and calibre, I imagine—and then hold onto it until he was able to get out.”

“That’s not what they did,” Will said. He clasped Quinn’s hand between both of his and tangled their fingers together. “They came here instead.”

“Yes,” Hunter said, nodding. “They tucked tail and ran away to Sydney to try their own hand at running a criminal empire. It explains how they were able to finance themselves so quickly and get clout in the city.”

“They were using the connection and the brother’s money?” Peyton asked. “That doesn’t sound smart.” Blatantly throwing around a name of a person that you’d betrayed—family you’d betrayed—didn’t seem like a best-laid plan. More like waving the red flag in front of the bull. How could they think that was a good idea?

“He was in jail,” Six said, shrugging. “They probably thought by the time he got out that they’d have enough power and position to be untouchable. His sentence was considerable and without parole.”

“No one is ever untouchable,” Quinn said.

“Tell that to a criminal’s ego,” Jericho said. “Howell truly believed this would work, and that he could build something big enough to counter anything his incarcerated brother could throw at him.”

“Touché.”

“You said ‘was,’” Peyton said. That word choice had been deliberate. “He was in prison. He’s not anymore?”

“Very astute. Yes. He was released three days ago,” Hunter said.

Peyton swallowed, the implication making his blood freeze. “He’s in the city.” He washere. And just like every other asshole that had anything to do with this, he was going to come for the men Peyton cared about.No fucking way.

“We don’t know,” Six said.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Sebastian demanded. “Where the fuck is he?”

“Seven hours after he was released, he vanished. We lost track of him and haven’t been able to pick up the trail again,” Hunter said. He fiddled with the cuffs of his jacket. “We’re working on it.”

“He’s here,” Peyton said with absolute certainty. A man who paid an associate to travel somewhere to kill an entire list of people didn’t just forget about that kind of need for revenge simply because they were no longer behind bars.

“Until we know for sure his movements, Jericho will remain watching you,” Hunter said. “We may rotate who watches you to give him a break.”

Peyton’s gaze flitted to Jericho, who was looking over Peyton’s shoulder. Right at the wall. He knew the tactic. He’d used it plenty of times in the military when an officer was taking a chunk out of his hide. He would let the words wash over him, finding a spot on the wall to focus on and get through the humiliation. He’d cried more than once before he’d perfected the technique. No one dressed someone down quite like army officers, and it took getting used to. This was different and yet the same. Jericho was avoidingsomething.

“I don’t need a break,” Jericho said, his voice tight.

Hunter sighed heavily. It was a loaded sound, and Peyton bit his tongue to stop himself from asking what the fuck they were talking about.

“Jericho will stay with you until we find the last thread and cut it.” Hunter’s tone brooked no argument.

“And if I say no?” Sebastian asked. “Do you crawl back into the hole you came out of?”

“’fraid not. If you say no, then we’ll make sure to put ‘stubborn idiot’ on your gravestone,” Hunter drawled.

“I want everything to go through me,” Quinn said immediately. Peyton twisted to stare at him in shock. “I want to work with you on this.”

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