Chapter 17
ARATH
Elgin sighs in his sleep. The room is incredibly dark tonight, even though my curtains are wide open. Even the moon feels the shadows hanging over me as it hides behind the clouds. The night is supposed to be without precipitation, but not clear. That helps the task at hand.
Which is why I’m wide awake, staring at the LED clock on my nightstand as it slowly ticks by the minutes. Eight of my men are already on their way to Empire’s headquarters. Another four will be leaving within the hour.
I wouldn’t say I’ve ignored emotions over the years or avoided relationships. And yet, there’s a voice in my head stating, this is why we don’t do this.
Once Empire is no longer a threat, Elgin doesn’t need to stay here anymore. I could simply not tell him we’ve eliminated the threat. I’m not sure that’s truly an option. That means I’d need my entire team to lie for me. God, I can just see the looks they’d give me if I asked them to do that.
This is why I’ve been putting it off for ages. I don’t want Elgin to leave. I also won’t make him stay. He has a life, and I’m not going to take it over. Although I’d really love to take it over.
We’ve spent the last three days fucking like rabbits. I’m happy to say that he’s a slut for taking dick. I’ve only read about guys who are as responsive as Elgin is. I always thought it would be interesting to see, but fuck, I didn’t realize how absolutely addicting it was.
The only reason he’s sleeping now is that my cock needs a break. I’m not as young as I once was. I’m pushing forty, for fuck’s sake. However, I’m pretty impressed with myself for how much stamina I’ve had.
Time continues. The clock brightly boasts that it’s now 1:24. The first wave of my team is likely settling into place now. In six minutes, the last four of my team will be joining them.
I offered to go. The first three versions of this plan had me on the streets with them. They refused. In fact, more than half of them were insulted that I thought I needed to be there in person. “Boss, this is day one training. Why are you joining us?”
I couldn’t very well say because it would keep my mind off Elgin leaving. What kind of sap would they take me for? Also, they’d never let me go if I’d said it had anything to do with Elgin. Rightfully, they’d think I’d be distracted. I totally would be.
However, the alternative is lying in bed, holding this man in my arms who’s likely going to leave as soon as I tell him Empire has been taken care of, and I may never see him again. Would he hold it against me if I tied him to the bed and showed him all the reasons he doesn’t want to go?
Not that all the reasons are sexual. That’s just the fun stuff.
The minutes continue counting down quickly. Elgin remains fast asleep. Just before two, I carefully extract myself from how I’m curled around Elgin, tuck him securely in the blankets, and climb out of bed. I shower quickly, dress, and leave the bedroom.
I convince myself not to look back at him. Maybe I can convince myself that I’m alone in the room. I’m leaving an empty room.
Martin is outside the door with a rifle.
Okay, I know this is overkill. Not that I want to jinx it, but my property has never been successfully broken into.
There have been attempts, but they’ve never gotten beyond the walls surrounding it.
No one is going to get all the way across my walled-in property, break into my house, and find Elgin in my bedroom, much less wannabe criminals like Empire.
It kind of started off as a joke, and also because I wanted Elgin to feel safe when he woke up. I wanted him to know that he was being protected. So he woke up in a 90s mafia movie. I might have been grinning in anticipation of him opening the bedroom door all morning.
I’m not sure why I keep someone there now.
Perhaps it’s still for Elgin’s benefit so he can see that he’s safe.
He can’t see what’s happening on the streets and how we’ve been gathering intelligence regarding Empire in the weeks he’s been here.
Sitting in meetings watching a group of people talk about it isn’t the same thing as seeing that we’re working on the problem.
“G’morning, Boss,” Martin greets once the door is securely shut behind me.
“Morning. Everything good?”
“Yes, sir. All good. Our boys arrived without incident and are in position, awaiting the clock.”
“Always waiting on the clock,” I mutter.
He grins. “Aren’t we?”
I clap his shoulder and head down the hall. One of the reasons Van Doren purchased this house was the abundance of rooms. It’s a private estate. The house is expansive and beautiful. The rooms are plentiful, with a whole variety of different sizes.
My brothers all handle their crews differently, and yet mostly the same. Kairo’s are basically pets to him. He has no attachment to them at all. He primarily deals with them virtually unless he’s meeting them somewhere for a job.
Oxley has a headquarters in an office building that’s owned by Van Doren Technologies, though our name isn’t on it.
We left the name of the insurance company that owned it previously.
They still rent three of the floors, so we thought it was appropriate.
No one really knows that we own the building, which was the purpose.
Oxley has a floor in the building and all the basement floors as well as an entire floor of the underground parking garage.
They meet regularly. Daily. They’re friends and colleagues.
Noaz’s crew are friends. They have a warehouse that’s been ‘under construction’ for eons. Yes, it’s owned by VDT, but like the insurance building in Anaheim, it’s still under an assumed name. They have bedrooms where crew members can spend the night, and they spend time together as friends.
My crew is family. That’s why I wanted a house with enough room for all thirty of my men to be under one roof if they chose.
We eat together, play together, share stories of our personal lives, and live together if they want to.
I take great pride that so many choose to live here, because that means I’m doing this exactly how I imagined.
They want to be here. That’s important to me.
The right side of the basement is a walkout.
It’s set up as a play space primarily with gaming systems, big chairs for gaming and lounging, and other comforts.
That’s also where my surveillance office is located.
One of the doors off the playroom is decked out with a whole lot of very large computer screens that not only cover the grounds and parts of the house but also whatever else we have set up.
Right now, three of the large monitors have the chest cams of my twelve men camped outside Empire’s headquarters.
I always have a minimum of three men in the room monitoring the videos, but when we’re doing something like this, there are an extra two.
My three on-duty security are still watching their respective feeds.
My two call-ins are watching the chest cams.
A chorus of ‘good mornings’ greets me when I step into the room.
Claude looks up at me with amusement as I sit in the chair beside him. “Couldn’t stay away,” he muses.
I shrug one shoulder. “I realize that we’ve all dubbed Empire a minor threat, but I hate to think that perhaps we underestimated them.”
He inclines his head and slides me a mug of coffee, proving that I’m as predictable as a fairy-tale ending. Claude smirks but turns his attention to the screens.
The twelve cams are labeled by who they belong to, four per screen. It takes me a minute to orient myself to where we’re looking. I glance at the clock. Two minutes.
“We’ve seen more than a dozen gang members walk in,” Tommy says. “Ten of whom look suspicious right off the bat with the way they’re constantly looking over their shoulder and practically tiptoeing through the alleys. They remind me of little kids playing spy and giggling behind their hands.”
I snort.
We have this theory that Empire is a group of rejects who tried to become members of real gangs—dangerous gangs—but they simply didn’t make the cut.
They think they’re proving their point by forming their own.
They think they’re going to show the rest of the gangs how wrong they are and rule the criminal activity in Philly.
Yes, I’ve heard those exact words out of several of their mouths.
It’s sad. I often wonder what happened in their lives that made them think this was their only career option.
I’ve often toyed with the idea that, instead of jail, they’re shipped somewhere for reform.
Teach them skills. Get them counseling. Facilitate their confidence in themselves to be someone’s role model.
Instead, if they’re lucky, they end up in prison, where everyone’s tax dollars give them a free ride. Overcrowding, the obviously healthy environment they’re in, and menial jobs… all a recipe to change a person.
“Ready?” Claude asks.
I turn my rambling brain back to the task at hand. As soon as the clock strikes two-thirty, our eight guys move in. They enter every exterior door, making quick work of the locks. They’re silent as they move, hiding in shadows and methodically clearing every room they come across.
Like my family and me, they’re all trained with silent weapons.
Meaning anything that doesn’t make a loud sound like gunfire.
They’re all armed with automatic weapons, of course.
You don’t send your guys armed only with blades against thugs with guns.
But they’re trained to know when to use what.
Silence is always the first choice. However, if you need to use your firearm, do so. The goal is always to come home alive.
Saul’s cam comes across two sleeping men. He stands over them for a few seconds before using their blankets and suffocating them in their sleep.
We made the decision not to take anyone alive. All the men we’ve identified have shot with the intent to kill. They’ve assaulted someone with the intent to kill. They may have been slow with targets over the last few weeks, but that doesn’t mean they’ve turned over a new leaf.
Wendall’s cam is the first to find the room where the masses are gathered. I feel like I’m looking at a movie where all the castoffs of society are camping out in the woods, griping about their luck in life.
For a moment, that’s all I see. People down on their luck. Whether through their own faults or maybe just shitty circumstances. For just a second, I pity them.
Then, two turn their guns on Wendall. One fires.
My heart races as the cam jostles and jumps, runs, ducks, falls.
We don’t have the sound on because twelve different feeds of audio get confusing, so we’re watching it all in silence.
We watch people die by bullets and blades.
One man is pushed over the railing in the stairwell. Gunsmoke fills the room.
“Ross is down,” Claude says.
I glance in his direction to see that he’s talking into a radio.
My gut twists as I search the feeds to find Ross.
Thankfully, there’s no threat there. I’m not sure where he is in relation to the remnants of the struggle in different corners of the building, but there isn’t someone standing over him.
He’s also not moving.
“Vitals?” I ask.
There’s clicking on a keyboard to my right, and then green numbers fill the right side of his camera feed. He’s alive. Pulse is obviously elevated. Oxygen is low. Blood pressure is haywire as the numbers climb.
There’s movement in the camera feed, and I tense. My breath comes out in a whoosh when I recognize Jordan. Thank fuck. He drops to his knees beside Ross, and my attention turns to his cam.
Now I can see the wound. Right through the side of his head. Oh fuck. My gaze flickers up to his vitals. He’s still alive.
“Getting him home,” Jordan says. I nearly startle at his voice. I hadn’t realized that Claude had turned on the volume on his cam. “Need a doctor ASAP.”
“Kyle’s already on standby,” Claude responds. “I’ll let him know what to expect.”
I send a quick text to our family doc, Mark, to see if he’s free or dealing with something else right now. There’s a chance he’s still in Anaheim with Oxley and his beau. I watch through the cams as more of my men join Jordan to get Ross out of there and home.