Sully (Henchmen MC: Next Generation #13)

Chapter Twenty-Three

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Sully

“You’re sure?” Fallon asked as I slipped a holster onto my ankle.

“Unless you’d rather keep them here,” I said.

“Callow has more experience. Dezi is wilder…”

“Callow and Dezi have women and kids at home.”

“You could take Croft too.”

“No. I don’t want to take two brothers,” I said, looking over at Rune, who was suiting up for the mission alongside Perish.

“Sull,” Fallon said, voice serious. “You’re talking like this is a suicide mission. I gotta know your head is in an alright place.”

“It’s not a great place,” I admitted, unbuttoning my Hawaiian shirt and setting it on the bar so I could slip a waist holster on as well. And, you know, not be seen from half a mile away.

“Why?” Fallon asked. “This man tried to kill you. Twice. He almost killed Bonnie…”

“Bonnie is the only reason I’m not just calling in the police with a tip about the bombs.”

“No, Sull,” Fallon said, shaking his head. “You’re also doing this because you have to. Because he’s putting your life and the lives of your brothers at risk. Because I am not going to let this fuck keep breathing and keep tormenting us. I’ve got women and children hiding up at Hailstorm. We’re doing round-the-clock full-staffed guard shifts not because of some threat from a rival organization, but because of some fucking guy with a grudge.”

“His brother died. Under my command.”

“Listen, I’m not gonna claim to know that life. But I do know a thing or two about the weight of leadership. I know what it means to have the lives of men you care about on your back. And what kind of damage there can be for making a bad decision.

“Every time I send you guys out on a drop, I know something could go sideways. Someone could die. And I can only imagine the weight you’ve been carrying about that last mission. But at the end of the day, that’s the life. Those are the risks.

“And it’s normal for the families left behind to grieve, to be upset, or even to be pissed the fuck off. It’s not normal for them to track someone down, terrorize them, and try to kill them.”

“I recognize that.”

“Then what’s the conflict?”

“He’s only doing this because of his brother’s death.”

“Oh, fuck off with that. You don’t know that. His brother could have come home, and he still could have been a violent shithead. Hundreds of people grieve the deaths of loved ones every day that happened at the hands of someone else. They don’t go and do this shit. He was a ticking time bomb likely obsessed with snuff porn and online incel forums.”

“This is the strangest pep talk I’ve ever heard,” I said, but the tight sensation in my chest eased.

“Who gives a fuck if it’s working,” he said, shooting me that devilish smirk of his. “You convinced he needs to be put down yet?”

“He was always gonna get put down,” I told him, rocking my head side to side to ease the tension in my jaw. “But I feel slightly less conflicted now.”

“Good. Less conflicted is good. You start getting in your head about shit again, imagine pretty little Bonnie just sitting outside doing one of her weird-ass sticker puzzles, smiling at the dog chasing a squirrel, and that fucker comes strolling up to her with a gun and points it at her head—“

“Christ, man,” I cut him off.

“Points it at her head and pulls the trigger,” he went on. “Imagine her on the ground, bleeding out.”

“Fallon, what the fuck?”

“That’s the very possibly reality,” he said, shrugging, “if you don’t kill this guy.”

“Alright,” I said, exhaling hard, trying to get the image he’d just created out of my head.

“That feeling in your gut,” Fallon said, watching me. “That’s family. Futures and rings type shit. So go there tonight, do what you got to do, be smart, and come back here to make that future a reality.”

With that, he moved on to speak to Rune and Perish as they both finished strapping up.

Then just like that, we were changing the plates, then piling into the SUV, all of us quiet, lost in our own thoughts, getting into whatever mindset we needed for the job.

“Why are there no fucking numbers?” Rune, at the wheel, grumbled.

“It’s that one,” I said, nodding toward one of the houses. The only one on the whole street, from what I could tell, with Bilco doors. The same doors that Bonnie had mentioned climbing out of.

“He’s right,” Perish agreed, nodding toward the mailbox with the house’s number on it in faded white stickers.

“Where am I parking?” Rune asked.

“Lights off in the driveway,” I decided, going with my gut. “Turn the interior lights off,” I said, reaching up to slide the one above me off. “No one close their doors when they get out.”

They each nodded their understanding.

Sure, it had more of an element of surprise to be able to park on the street and walk up. But these were the days, unfortunately, of everyone and their grandmother having a damn doorbell camera. Sure, masks worked to hide our identity. But if someone got an alert on their app, then looked out to see three masked men walking down the street, they would likely call it in.

Parking in the drive gave us a little more protection when it came to the neighbors.

“Perish back. Rune front. I’m going in through the basement if it’s open. If not, I’ll go around the back too.”

With that, everyone nodded and Rune slowly crept up the—thankfully paved—driveway.

My breath felt trapped in my chest, worried about every noise.

“Sweep the house until you find him. Don’t engage without me unless you have to.”

Rune cut the engine.

We pulled up our masks, reached for our guns, then moved out of the SUV in unison.

There was no more discussion then, just action, just men who knew what they had to do and sprang into action to do it.

I noticed again with a sort of detached interest how deftly and confidently Rune moved. Like this wasn’t his first—or second or tenth—mission.

But that was a conversation for another day.

I made my way around the house, my shoes crunching on the ground, sounding like damn cannonballs to my ears.

The basement doors were exactly where Bonnie had said. She’d even mentioned the hose hookup just beside it.

Sucking in a deep breath, I reached for one of the doors, almost not believing my luck when the door lifted outward toward me.

I made my way down the steep steps, smelling the damp, musty scent as I went deeper underground. The cool met me too; this basement clearly not heated.

There was a creak on the floor above, making my adrenaline surge through my veins, wondering if it was one of my men or if it was Will Antone himself.

Once I got to the bottom step, something underneath the dust and must met my nose.

Something metallic mixed with the more industrial scent of ammonia.

Gunpowder.

Under that, though, there was something else. It was slightly sweet and medicinal. As I stepped through the basement, the scent teased at the corners of my memory, just out of reach.

Until a third scent met my nose.

Sawdust.

For stabilization.

That sweet, medicinal scent?

That was fucking nitroglycerin.

The main component in a fucking bomb.

Fuck.

I mean, I was no expert on explosives. But I did know that nitroglycerin was unstable as fuck. In an unheated, damp basement, it was just asking for a problem.

Even just a goddamn vibration could set it off.

One gunshot and we all go up.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

I needed to get upstairs and warn Rune and Perish.

I could die. It would be almost karmic. But I couldn’t let more of my men die on a mission I was leading.

I stepped carefully through the room, not sure where the chemicals were stashed, but damn sure not wanting to knock any over.

I tucked my gun away, knowing there was no way I could use it anyway.

Why the fuck hadn’t I packed some other weapons?

It didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered but getting us the fuck out of there.

I was almost to the interior stairs when I saw it.

A cardigan full of bright, happy colors.

It was like the fucking universe needed to remind me of Bonnie, of why I was here, of what I wanted to go home to.

I grabbed it before starting up the stairs.

I was almost to the top when there was a slam upstairs, followed by grunts and more pounding sounds.

Someone was fighting.

“Don’t,” I called, running the rest of the way up, but the door didn’t give.

I lifted a hand, ready to pound, before remembering the goddamn explosives.

“Don’t fucking fight!” I yelled through the door.

The lock on the door slid, then the door was opening. And there was Perish.

“Don’t shoot. Don’t knock anything over. And for fuck’s sake, stop—“ I started to bark out orders.

But it was right then that Will broke away from Rune.

I had a split second to see the wild look in his eyes. And just below it, the dark sort of glee as he ran toward the basement door.

I didn’t try to stop him.

“Out!” I roared to Rune and Perish.

To their credit, they didn’t ask questions. They didn’t even hesitate.

They turned and ran toward the front door, flying out and down the front path with me on their heels.

“Go, go, go,” I yelled as Rune jumped into the driver’s seat and turned the SUV over.

Perish climbed in.

“Go!” I screamed at Rune even before I was fully inside the SUV.

He reversed down the drive as I dropped my ass into the seat, my door still wide open.

And it was right then that the entire fucking house exploded.

The sound was as deafening as I remembered, and all three of us ducked at the sound, at the way the whole fucking ground shook below the car.

But to Rune’s credit, even that didn’t slow him down as he flew down the street.

I could see Perish’s lips moving, but I couldn’t make out the words, hearing nothing but my own blood pounding in my ears, that strange high-pitched screaming sound that came from the pressure of the explosion.

For a moment, my mind flashed back.

And suddenly, I was somewhere overseas.

I was flying on my back. I was being covered with rubble.

It was the material in my hand when my fingers curled into fists that had the memory slipping away again, leaving me back in the present.

With Bonnie’s cardigan in my hand.

Bonnie .

I wanted to drive right up to Hailstorm and get her, to let her know everything was okay, that there was no more danger. And, somehow, that I managed to get out of this whole situation without any more guilt tacked up on my conscience.

But the fact of the matter was, I would probably be screaming in her face.

Besides, we needed to get off the streets.

Rune pulled to a stop several roads over from the explosion. Perish popped out, quickly removing the magnetic plates from the front and back of the SUV.

Then we were moving again, driving around a little bit just to make sure no one was following.

Then, like nothing at all happened, we drove in through the gates at the clubhouse, pulled into the garage, and each let out a collective held breath.

The garage door flew open, and Fallon, Brooks, Callow, and Croft rushed out, the relief clear on their faces when they saw that none of us were dead or bleeding.

I saw Fallon’s lips moving as I climbed out, but I shook my head and pointed to my ears.

“Explosion,” I said, clearly shouting at them, judging by how they all jolted.

Brooks held out his phone to Fallon, making our president’s face go serious. Moving closer, I glanced down, seeing the live news report about the explosion.

As far as I could tell, there were no accounts of an SUV fleeing the scene.

Even if there would be that footage or eyewitness accounts in the future, all they would have would be the wrong plates and three masked men.

We all moved into the clubhouse, Rune and Perish going right to the bar to get drinks.

I followed Fallon, taking the notepad and pen he handed me, then writing down a quick account of the ordeal while I wondered how long I would have to go without my hearing.

Experience told me it could be anything from a few minutes to a few hours. So long as there wasn’t any permanent damage.

Fallon read my report before scribbling one word at the bottom.

Dead?

I nodded to him.

I mean, there was no way to know for sure. Not until the cops found what was left of the body.

But there was simply no way the guy had gotten out of there. The three of us were a lot more fit and quicker. And we’d just barely made it out. It would have been impossible for him to rush down the basement steps, across the floor, and out the exterior doors in the same amount of time.

Fallon pressed the pen to the paper again.

Suicide?

I honestly didn’t know.

Yes, his eyes had been crazy.

And, yes, I even saw a strange sort of excitement and glee there.

That said, I didn’t know if his intention was to blow himself up. For all I knew, he’d been trying to find a way to blow me up, but knocked over some nitro by accident and sent the whole place up.

Maybe? I wrote back.

To that, he nodded as I started to pick up on a bit of conversation between Brooks and Croft.

My hearing was coming back.

That was good, at least.

Brooks turned the news on the TV, turning on the captions for those of us who were still struggling to hear, and we all stood around for the next hour watching the reports come in.

Thankfully, the moron hadn’t hurt any of the neighbors, though they were all clearly really shaken up.

The initial speculation was to be expected.

A meth lab.

They weren’t exactly common in the area, but when a house exploded, your mind usually went one of two ways: gas leak or meth lab.

Eventually, the truth would roll out. The nitroglycerin. And anything else that may have survived.

But by then, the public wouldn’t care anymore.

And the NBPD was likely going to conclude the guy was a domestic terrorist who’d been plotting to blow up a building or something.

I was kind of relieved, in a sad way, that Chris’s team told me that Will’s parents were already dead. They wouldn’t have to grieve losing another son.

We all stayed there for hours, no one willing to finally relax until we knew for sure that it was over.

Eventually, we saw the crawl on the screen saying they’d gotten word that body parts had been found inside the residence. And that the station had linked the residence to a rental company who’d claimed a man named Will Antone had been staying there.

“Well, that’s done,” Fallon said, clamping a hand on my shoulder. “All that fussing and you didn’t have to kill anyone,” he said, with a teasing smirk. “You should go get your girl.”

After I removed all my guns and handed over all my clothing to Brooks to be destroyed—just in case—I showered, got some coffee in me, then drove my ass up to Hailstorm on my bike to get my girl.