Page 101 of My Solemn Vow

The Irishman looks over the wound on the man’s hand. “A flesh wound. You’re grazed at best. Valor will do far worse to you.”

The man groans, and I take a corner harder than I need towhile trying to listen closely, but the Irishman doesn’t use the opportunity to question him. That’s okay. It’s my job anyway. He’ll have to wait until after dinner with my parents.

Once we’re finally far enough away and I’m sure no tail is coming, I slow, trying to avoid looking suspicious or breaking traffic laws. Nothing worse than being pulled over with a hostage in the back. My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out. Not being the SUV my phone is connected to, I answer it and hold it to my ear.

“The hell happened out there?” my father snaps. “I got a call from Neil that you were ambushed. A shoot-out, four dead? Two of them ours?”

“One of the SUVs exploded. Neil went out the back. I took a team out the front. We left the goods. I don’t know what happened to the others who went out the back with Neil. I wasn’t staying around to figure out what the fuck was going on. We took a hostage. Headed to my place now.” I answer as concisely as possible.

Dad’s silent for a moment, and I figure out that his hand is over the speaker. “No, I know Valor will want mashed potatoes and gravy.”

Then Royal comes on the line. “Send me a picture of him and any tattoos. I’ll see what I can figure out, and for the love of God, please don’t forget the buns. They’re acting like Antonella is the pope.”

“Got that Valor?” Dad is back.

“Yeah, I’ll get it sent over.” I immediately regret not taking the time to learn my teammates’ names, but we worked well as a unit.

Bad of us not to know. We should know our pack.My wolf agrees, and I’m already feeling guilty enough as is.

I hand my phone to the back seat. “Photos of him. Anything he’s got, face, tattoos, et cetera. To my brother, please.”

“Yes, Alpha,” he answers.

I don’t waste the seconds it would take to correct him that I’m not alpha yet.

My wolf, however, doesn’t hesitate to puff up with pride that he’s accepted me in that position.

“Want me to arrange transport for us off your property?” the new kid asks from way in the back of the SUV. “I don’t know if you want Kerrianne to see all of us.”

“You haven’t heard of Valor’s lair?” the second Irishman asks loudly over his shoulder.

“No?” The kid sounds embarrassed.

“Valor’s the best interrogator the Mafia has known. If Valor can’t make them talk, then they don’t know anything,” the Irishman in the front answers. “He’s got a whole outfit hidden away in a secret bunker. His daughter and the mate will never know we’re there. It’s legendary. Talks are all across Ireland of how Valor works.”

“That’s... interesting,” the kid in the back answers, clearly trying to pick words that aren’t offensive.

“Sent,” the Irishman in the back says, passing my phone forward.

I realize I haven’t heard any moaning and groaning and look over my shoulder. “He die or pass out?”

“Had a little help passing out,” the Irishman admits. “Can’t stand wussy nonsense like that.”

But my brain has moved on to other things.

Like the fact that the two men who went with Neil are dead.It was their job to get him out alive, so it’s not beyond reason that they died carrying out their duty. Plus, we don’t know how many they were up against. We may not be a no-man-left-behind outfit, but I’m going to need more answers to respond to the call of violence.

But even more disarming than that train of thought is the sinking feeling in my gut.How did they know we were there?

We were meeting usual buyers, people we’ve worked withfor years. It’s why we had such a small, nonconforming shipment. I’d never cut a deal so small. For just anyone.

My phone rings again, and I don’t check the screen before answering. “Valor.”

“Valor. What the fuck? We get to the warehouse, and there’s a burned-out SUV. Two of your guys and three other dead bodies all around. Did the cost of these shipments increase in price now that you’re working with the D’Medicis?” It’s the buyer, and he increases my suspicions with every question. “I don’t really think the cost to clean this up is worth what little product we ordered.”

I drum my fingers on the dash.Do I believe it wasn’t him?

“Clean it up. On the next shipment, I’ll have two of the custom M-9s you’ve been bugging me about for a while.” I try to negotiate.