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CHAPTER THIRTY

CONOR

“We have done a lot of stupid shit?—”

“ A lot of stupid shit ,” Finn interrupts to repeat my words with significantly more emphasis.

“But this is fucking idiotic,” I finish my statement. “Suicidal even.”

Victoria and Elena both had every right to be upset when I sent them home without me. Our women might not be actively involved with this side of our business—as we try to keep them as safe from it as possible—but they all understand the risks. And none of them are idiots; they can read a room. They all knew the moment Ivan asked to speak with us in private that things were going to turn south.

And did they ever…

One of Ivan’s high-level thieves-in-law was taken in by the police a few hours ago under the guise of running a traffic light. No field sobriety test. A routine traffic stop that led straight to the police station. Definitely not an obtainable offense. It means one thing and one thing only. The bloody bastard has turned informant.

Ivan turns in the front seat to face me. “I think I was pretty fucking clear at the house that this was a really bad fucking idea.”

“What is the fucking alternative?” Finn asks, glancing into the rearview mirror as he defends his ludicrous plan. “Six consecutive life sentences at Sing Sing? Or maybe we get lucky and just get the death penalty.”

Fuck, that’s bleak.

“Who knows what he’s already told them?” Ivan speaks, pulling me back from my spiraling thoughts. “If they’re moving him to a safe house, it’s because they’re expecting his information to be worth protecting.”

We all know Ivan is right. Vlad, his thieves-in-law, has been integrally involved in every bit of our operations since Liam merged us with the Bratva . Extortion. Assault. Battery. Arson. The permanent removal of a few human hindrances to our businesses. If he shares and testifies to a fraction of what he knows, we’ll all be spending the rest of our lives behind bars—the women we love left with nothing and no one to take care of them.

Victoria can be mad that I’m putting my family above her, but what she’s thinking couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m doing it for my family—because Victoria and Elena are my family. Tonight is to protect them as much as it is for myself and my brothers.

“Are we just planning to storm the safe house with guns blazing? Or do we actually have some sort of plan?” Finn asks. “I mean, I’m good either way. Just curious.”

Before he can answer, my phone dings in my pocket. I pull it out to find a text from Rory.

RORY

Two Sheriff’s cars just pulled up out front, and there are far too many armed cops at the door for it to be shift change.

They’re moving him now.

Follow them

We have to know where they’re taking him

Keep me posted, we can’t be more than five minutes from you

I tell Finn and Ivan, who both spit a slew of expletives at the information. Rory drops his location as he follows the convoy through the city, and I provide Finn with his location. Watching the movement on the map, I cast it to the dash. “Make a left.”

“And slow down,” Ivan urges from the passenger seat.

I watch Finn’s eyes roll in the rearview mirror as he sighs, “Yes, mam .”

“Seriously, Finn,” I gruff. “Ivan’s right. We don’t need to be pulling up on the police brigade at ninety miles per hour. They don’t need any heads- up that we’re coming.”

“Fine.” Finn lets out another heavy sigh and lifts his foot off the accelerator, slowing us to just a few miles per hour above the speed limit.

Rory’s name flashes on the dash, and I answer the call on my phone. His voice carries through the SUV’s speakers. “I’m parked down the block. They’re walking him in now. Single family home. Looks like they’re setting up cops at the front and back. This is going to be a fucking blood bath.”

There is an air of hesitation and nerves in his tone. Although—after taking a handful of bullets to the chest and nearly dying a few years ago—I can’t exactly blame the man. I’ve been shot and stabbed before, but nothing nearly as serious as what he endured trying to save Quinn from being abducted by the Bratva.

“Are you up for this?” I ask, my question geared toward Rory but open to the men in the car with me as well.

“Fuck you,” Rory snips with a tinge of annoyance. “I wouldn’t be loading an extra mag right now if I wasn’t. Why don’t you kids get your arses here already?”

I shake my head as Finn teases, “How the fuck did we all agree to add a second Declan to this family?”

“Don’t be a fucking twat.” Rory does his best to mock Declan, his accuracy makes Finn grip the steering wheel and grit his teeth. As though Rory can see Finn’s reaction, he chuckles, “You’re all fucking lucky to have me.” He’s right . We are. In the past few years, I’ve spilled as much blood beside Rory as I have with my blood-brothers. He might not carry our name, but Rory is an Evans through and through.

When we turn onto the street Rory is parked on, I immediately spot the police cruiser parked before a small brick Cape Cod surrounded by a waist-high wrought-iron fence. There is one officer in the car, one pacing the front yard, and I can only imagine at least one more covering the rear of the house.

Down the block, we pass Rory and pull into the driveway of a home with a for sale sign posted in the yard. My heart beats a little harder than usual, and I wipe my sweaty palms on my thighs of my trousers. “Circling back to Finn’s question… Do we have a fucking plan or are we just going in guns blazing?”

“I’ve got an idea,” Finn blurts.

Oh fuck…