Take (Fury Brothers #4)

1. Reath

1

REATH

I was ready for this damn day to be over.

A headache throbbed in one temple, and I made a mental note to grab some aspirin. Leaning over the keyboard, I tapped a few times and scanned the CCTV footage on the screen.

Nothing .

I growled under my breath. Some fucker had broken into my client’s warehouse in Mid-City and stolen some industrial equipment worth a lot of money.

I would find them.

I always did. It was what made Phoenix Security Services the best in New Orleans.

A whistle sounded at the door to my office. “Hey, boss, you’re looking slick.”

I lifted my head and saw one of my men, Lincoln, standing there with his tanned skin and shaggy, blond hair. He looked like he should have a surfboard tucked under one arm, ready to hit the waves. But despite the smile and easygoing demeanor, he was also a former Navy SEAL, an expert in Muay Thai fighting, and skillful with tech and computers.

I tugged on the sleeve of my tuxedo jacket. A fucking white tuxedo.

My brother Dante was holding a party at his upscale restaurant, Wildfire. It was Great Gatsby themed, and his woman, Mila, had delivered the suit to PSS with a demand that I wear it.

She was an event planner, and she could be strict.

“I have a charity thing. Dante and Mila are holding it at Wildfire.”

Linc grinned. “Those two are always raising money for something.”

It was true. My brothers and I all liked to give back as much as we could.

We’d come from nothing. Five boys who’d been discarded, abandoned. We’d all ended up in foster care, and we knew what it was like to have nothing but the clothes on your back. I’d been abandoned as a newborn and never known my parents. The foster system had been hit-or-miss for me. Some of my foster homes had been okay, but then, sometimes out of the blue, I’d be whisked away to a new placement.

Not all of them had been good. My jaw tightened. Some had been downright bad. Old memories lashed at me—shouts, blows, blood.

I locked the memories down. The past was the past. It couldn’t touch me anymore.

I’d found my brothers in our last foster home. They’d saved me—in more ways than one.

Now, we’d made successful lives for ourselves. We’d made New Orleans our home.

Dante owned the hottest club in the city, Ember, and several bars and restaurants. Colt was a successful bounty hunter. Kavner had always vowed to one day be rich and had built a billion-dollar business empire. Beauden ran Hard Burn, a gym with a long wait list to join.

I’d taken the skills I’d learned in the military—and some gained during a stint with The Agency—and used them to start Phoenix Security Services.

We were our own men, protecting what was ours, and living life our own way.

Except when I had to put on a 1920s-inspired suit, and schmooze.

Still, the money was going to help foster kids, so it was worth it.

I straightened. “I’d better go. Can you tell Noah there was nothing helpful on the CCTV for the Hixson case? Tell him to keep looking.”

“Will do. Have fun.” Linc waggled his eyebrows. “Maybe try and meet a woman.”

I shot him a look and headed out of my office.

After passing through the darkened computer room and through a secure doorway, I strode out into the hall. The interior of the PSS offices consisted of polished-concrete floors, wood, and glass with some industrial touches. I walked past the glass-walled conference room.

A sense of pride washed through me. This place was mine . I’d built it, hired every person, worked hard to make it a success.

For a long time, I’d had nothing that was just mine. Nothing that hadn’t been worn or used by someone before.

I straightened my long black tie as I walked down the stairs. Again, that was in the past. I nodded at my man sitting at the reception desk, then stepped outside.

Night had fallen. Around me were the familiar streets of the Warehouse District. My brothers and I owned the entire block. We had several warehouses, most of them renovated to become our homes, offices, and places of business. Kavner lived in a penthouse in Ignis Tower, which rose above me on the corner.

I strode down the street and turned the corner. Ahead, the gold sign for Ember glowed in the dim evening light. Beside it sat Smokehouse, Dante’s bar.

But tonight, the crowd gathered outside Wildfire. There was a long line of people dressed in their 1920s finest, waiting to get in through the sleek, gray concrete entrance. Spotlights strobed and jazz music echoed from inside.

I glanced at my cellphone. Still no message from Jack’s sister.

A spear of frustration hit me, which made my headache throb. I’d texted and called my best friend’s sister numerous times. I’d had no response. Zero. She hadn’t bothered to answer the phone once.

Jack was my best friend. We’d been in the Army together, and now Jack worked for a private military contractor.

I frowned. Lately, Jack had been taking riskier and riskier jobs. I didn’t like it. I’d offered him a job at PSS, but the man wouldn’t sit still, wouldn’t put down roots.

One day, he was going to get himself hurt. Or worse.

He’d called me a few weeks back, from who knew where, to ask me to keep an eye on his sister. She was moving to New Orleans to study at Tulane University.

Francesca Parker. I’d only met her once years ago, not long after Jack and I first joined the military. She and Jack’s mom had flown in from Seattle to meet him off the plane.

I had a vague recollection of a gangly teenage girl with braces and dark hair. I knew she had to be in her mid-twenties now. She was doing some sort of postgraduate studies.

I really didn’t have time to babysit some college girl. Especially one who didn’t return phone calls.

I strode toward the door of Wildfire.

“Hey.” A blonde in a tiny flapper dress standing in the line grabbed my arm. “ Please take me in with you.”

“Sorry.”

“But this line is so long.” She fluttered her eyelashes.

She was beautiful, but I didn’t even feel a blip of reaction. I never found it hard to find company of the female variety, but it had been a while.

Lately, I just hadn’t been interested.

I shook my head and tried to soften it with a smile. The bouncer saw me and waved me in.

“Sorry. Have a good night.” I turned and stepped inside.

The large space had a high ceiling and moody, gray walls. There was a tree in the center of the restaurant. The branches rose up, spreading outward, covering the ceiling. Glowing blossoms on the branches twinkled gold.

There was a good crowd, so I figured Mila would be happy. As if I’d conjured her, I spotted her in the crowd. She was talking to some of the staff, and was dressed in a black-and-gold flapper dress. Her brown hair was done in a mass of gentle waves.

And not far behind her was my older brother, Dante.

Dante was tall, dark, and masculine. He gave off the vibe of a man who liked being in charge. He was wearing all black, with a gold scarf.

As I watched, he reached out and touched Mila’s ear. She looked up and shot him a brilliant smile.

I felt a strange pull in my chest. It was good to see Dante happy. I just hoped it stayed that way.

Love wasn’t something I trusted.

I loved my brothers—a bond forged in blood and hardship. It was one I knew would never be broken.

But romantic love… That seemed like a much more fragile thing. Something that flared bright, then winked out fast. Something that was more hassle than it was worth.

I headed toward the couple. Mila saw me first and smiled.

“I knew you’d look fabulous in that suit, Reath.”

I lowered my head and kissed her cheek. Then I nodded at Dante. “The place looks great, Mila.”

She beamed. “Thank you.”

“That’s because she’s a genius,” a female voice said.

I glanced up and saw Macy. The bubbly blonde was dressed in a champagne-gold dress with fringe along the bottom. Colt was at her side. My bounty hunter brother looked about as thrilled as me to be dressed up.

“I love this dress.” Macy swished the fringe skirt. “Daisy demanded one of her own.”

Daisy was Colt’s daughter—technically his niece, whom he’d adopted. And I wasn’t at all surprised Daisy wanted a matching dress. That girl liked anything pretty and sparkly.

Beau appeared out of the crowd. You could take the fighter out of the ring, but Beau still looked like the boxer he was. He had the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up, showing off the tattoos on his arms. He was also wearing a dark-green vest.

“Beau, where is your jacket?” Mila protested.

Beau lifted a whiskey glass and sipped his drink. “This is all you’re getting.”

The brunette huffed out a breath.

There were murmurs in the crowd, and I turned.

Our final brother had arrived.

“The man has to make an entrance,” Colt murmured.

“But look at them,” Macy whispered. “So glamorous.”

Kavner and his woman, London, entered Wildfire.

Kavner was tall, dark, and handsome. Not to mention a billionaire. He attracted attention wherever he went. Tonight, he wore a black tuxedo and had his hair slicked back. A silver handkerchief winked from the top pocket of his jacket. Beside him, London looked tall and svelte, wearing a long, silver drape of a dress. The neckline was cut impossibly low, showing off gleaming dark skin, and long, white gloves completed the outfit.

People pushed toward the couple. Everyone always wanted to talk to Kavner.

London—a former Treasury agent—was quite protective of him. She shot several people sharp looks.

The couple reached us.

“Evening,” Kavner drawled, his arm tight around London’s waist.

“You two look gorgeous,” Macy said.

“You, too.” London smiled. “I love that color on you, Macy.” She swiveled. “Mila, this place looks incredible.”

“She’s right,” Kav agreed. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

Mila looked around, pleased. “Thanks.”

“Now,” London continued, “you promised me a special cocktail.”

Mila nodded. “I have some exceptional ones planned for tonight. I’ll make you a Daisy Buchanan. Vodka, champagne, elderflower, and a lemon twist.”

The women fell into conversation. Dante turned to Kavner. “I see those stocks you made me invest in are up.”

“Of course they are.” Kavner took a glass of wine from one of the servers.

I turned my head and scanned the crowd.

A glimmer of red caught my eye.

As I watched, a woman emerged from the throng. She paused and looked around.

I went still.

She wasn’t tall, maybe five foot five. She had some curves that filled out her red and black flapper dress to perfection. Her black hair didn’t quite reach her shoulders, and was done in a 1920s wavy style, with a headband topped with a red feather.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Suddenly, my headache didn’t feel so bad.

I let my gaze drift down her body. When I looked back at her face, our gazes locked.

She wasn’t quite beautiful, but she was definitely attractive. She had wide eyes, but she was too far away for me to tell the color. She also had a wide mouth, and her lush lips were painted red to match her dress.

This time, I felt a tug. A big one.

The crowd shifted, blocking my view of her.

I set my drink down. “I’ll be right back.”