Chapter One
Jeremy
“Does John know about this?"
I looked up from the dead body on the ground, the body of the leader of the Western branch of Ray Romano’s kingdom, to the baseball player. Dean Connors kicked in the door to Garner’s apartment five minutes ago, interrupting our interrogation.
He looked at me, something similar to disgust flashing behind his eyes. He was in no position to judge us.
The man went deep undercover for the FBI for five fucking years after faking his death to make sure his fiancée, Gwen Davenport, would be safe.
It didn’t work. Gwen didn’t move on. She couldn’t. None of us could move on after that, and the guilt that weighed on Agent Garner’s soul was almost too much to bear. He risked everything. He risked his sanity. He risked his happiness. He risked his relationship with—
“Is there something I can help you with, Dean?”
My eyes shifted to the man covered in blood, watching as he took out the empty clip from his gun while walking into the kitchen. We stood in silence as he grabbed a towel, setting the parts of the weapon down onto the countertop to wipe off the dark red liquid.
“James,” my friend damn near pleaded, “don’t go down this path.”
The rogue agent ignored him and addressed me. “Did you recognize any of those names?”
Folding my arms over my chest, I looked to the mangled dead man. “A few. Dontell and Leon will ask around,” I answered.
“Enough of this shit,” Dean hissed at me.
“Don’t mess with me, pretty boy. Today ain’t the day,” I warned.
He was in my face then. “You made him cross a line he can never come back from,” he growled.
I smirked. “No, Connors, he crossed that line when Haley was taken three weeks ago.”
It was true.
Three weeks ago, Haley, Dean, and I were being chased by Romano’s goons.
We were cornered, and Dean and I told the red-head to run and meet Mr. Clark at a safe point.
They were all throughout the city, members of my uncle’s Crew offering a place of sanctuary for those in need.
She ran; Dean and I fought. There were so many, and they just kept coming.
We still didn’t know if that little bitch boy was the one who organized all of this or not.
Why have a small army in a city you hate? It was just more confirmation he was keeping someone here.
Someone special to him. Someone he took from us—from me. My sister.
Haley was taken. We heard her screams, her cries for help. The moment we realized we were too late, something inside of James Garner snapped, like the shining cord of his soul was tethered and then shredded in an instant.
Agent James Garner, the good boy, was gone, and a mad man stood in his place. The only anchor to bring him back to sanity was his woman, his princess as he called her, and with each passing day, the darkness ate at him a little more.
Was I happy? No.
Was I glad we were finally making progress? Absolutely.
The only way to save the people you love was to get your hands bloody.
Garner’s hands were almost as bloody as mine.
He was the good one out of all of us. He had a moral code made him the man he was, but that man was gone now. After Haley’s disappearance, he'd lost it.
He shot every single body he put down three more times. It was always in their faces, making them unrecognizable. Then, he tried to kill me, since I was the one who told her she should go after Kay.
I would admit that I was reckless. Haley’s capture was on me...and I told him that.
Three weeks ago
“Look at me!” James roared from on top of me before his fist clashed with my face again.
Pain.
Fuck, that hurt. My jaw ached, but I didn’t fight back. I couldn’t fight when this was all my fault. Haley was gone.
He hit me, again and again, plowing me into the concrete stairs by the river.
He stopped for a moment, sitting back on his haunches, his body holding me down. He wiped his face with the back of his sleeves as his dark, raging eyes surveyed the damage he'd caused.
My punishment. My judgment.
I looked up and away from him to the St. Louis arch. It stood proud and tall, lit up in the night, letting others in the darkness know that this was the gateway. Right now, for me, it was the gateway to hell. I was going to die tonight.
James Garner was going to kill me, and I deserved it.
“Do it,” I croaked.
His hand shot out, punching me again, before both of them wrapped around my throat.
“You took her from me,” he growled, his voice lower than I'd ever heard it, filled with pain and anger. My windpipe was cut off, and I knew this was the end. My sister’s face came into view—blonde hair, clear skin, bright blue eyes.
As bright as the summer sky. Beautiful and refreshing. I heard her laugh, saw her smile.
Would she forgive me? Would she live? Would Haley? Would Gwen? Would Aiden? Would my honey girl?
“Yes,” I whispered as my vision began to go in and out of focus.
“Garner!”
He was ripped off me then, and I felt a gentle hand on my cheek. “Jer? Jer, stay with me.” Gwen.
My hand reached up to wrap around her forearm as I regained my senses.
“I’m sorry, G. I am so fucking sorry,” I said, my voice hoarse from the FBI agent’s hands.
“Shh, are you alright?” she asked, looking down at me, her ocean eyes scanning my face.
“I’m fine,” I said before sitting up. My eyes found James, who was being held back by Dean, his teeth bared.
“I’ll kill you,” the agent hissed. I nodded, swallowing my fate.
“Garner, get a hold of yourself,” Dean snapped just before James broke his hold. Gwen stood in front of me, ready to fight, but instead of charging after me, James turned on Dean, giving him a nasty right hook. As the baseball player doubled over, James said something that I couldn't hear.
“James, stop this,” Gwen pleaded, taking a step to him.
Suddenly, I was on my feet, yanking her back as he approached her, pulling his gun out of the holster.
He stopped a foot in front of my friend, looking down at her.
His eyes didn’t hold hatred behind them when he searched her eyes; no, they held fear.
They held each other’s eyes, minutes ticking by as the chaos ensued all around us.
“James,” she whispered as she placed her palm on his blood-stained chest, directly over his heart. “Think about this. Please. Don’t do something you'll regret.”
He snatched her hand, gripping it so tightly, his knuckles turned white. I growled at him. “Let her go.”
“Hush, Jer,” she snapped, still holding his gaze.
“She's the only thing that matters to me now," James said to her.
“Yes.”
“Nothing will stand in my way.”
“I’ll stand behind you.”
He shoved her away then, shaking his head as he looked down the river. “This isn’t your fight, Gwen. Not anymore.”
“Bullshit,” she spat.
“Garner,” Dean called from behind him. “Your team is here.”
We all turned to look up the stairs, the red and blue lights flashing in the night sky as sirens echoed through the air. Wordlessly, the four of us climbed up the concrete stairs.
Once we were at the top my eyes grazed over the park, bodies of Romano’s goons littering the grass and sidewalks, their blood staining this city.
My city.
This wasn’t just a crime scene; it was a god-damn warzone.
****
“Answer me, dammit!”
My eyes flicked to Dean. “We're doing what needs to be done to get our girls home. You of all people should understand that.”
He sighed through his nose as he dropped his head. “I was the only one who was supposed to cross that line. Me and me alone.”
“Connors, I crossed that line years ago,” I said calmly. The clicking of a gun drew my attention away from him, and I looked to James. He set his now-clean gun back on the countertop and gestured to his clothes. “I’ll be right back.”
“You aren’t going to clean this up?” He halted at my words and looked back to Tipponi.
“No, he can rot here.”
“Jesus, Garner,” Dean breathed, his eyes wide with shock. James looked at him, his face void of emotion, stone faced for ten seconds before he blinked slowly and turned to go to his bedroom.
“This shit has to end,” Dean hissed to me, grabbing my shoulder. I shook him off and shoved his tattooed arm away.
“It will end when everyone is home safe,” I snapped back. He pushed me back into the wall, gripping my t-shirt with both fists. We struggled, fighting for power. He pulled me away and slammed me back into the wall again.
“Listen to me, Jer. He isn’t going to come back from this, and when we do get the girls back, when this shit does end...he won’t be able to come back. He won’t be himself. He won’t be the man Haley fell in love with,” he reasoned.
Part of me knew he had a point, but the other part of me, the part housed my darkness, didn’t give a shit. I was selfish. I wanted my sister back. I wanted Haley back, no matter what the sacrifices were going to be. They could figure out their shit when everyone was back home and safe.
“He’s a big boy, Connors. He can handle it,” I huffed before I pushed the man away from me. He staggered back, his boot landing in the pool of blood coming from the dead man. He cursed and looked back at the victim, taking in the scene.
I watched Dean, studying him as he weighed his options. Dean Connors wasn’t the type of man to walk away. Much like his fiancée, he would fight for the people he loved until the very end.
“Let’s go,” James demanded, reemerging from the hallway dressed in black slacks and a baby blue shirt. He was folding up his shirt sleeves as Dean spoke.
“Alright, enough.” He turned around to face James, folding his arms over his chest. His long hair was up today, and the scar over his left eye seemed darker than before.
“I don’t have the time to listen to your bullshit, Connors,” James sighed in annoyance.
“I’m in.”
James’ dark eyes shot up from his arms, his jaw jumping underneath his fair skin. “What did you just say?”
“You fucking heard me. I’m all in. Whatever we have to do to get the girls back, so be it.
But let me make myself clear,” he said, taking a step forward, jerking his thumb back into his chest as his other arm dropped down to his side.
“You let me handle the dark shit. I will be the one to carry that burden, Garner, not you.”
“I don’t need you shooting the bad guys for me, Connors,” he hissed.
“No, but you will need to carry the guilt. So, I will do it. My hands are already blood stained, but yours are still somewhat clean.”
He had a point there. I grunted in agreement, tilted my head to the side as I widened my stance. “Not to break up this little bestie talk, but that door is kicked in and the body will start to sink soon. We should bounce,” I said.
Dean pointed to the faceless man. “That cannot stay here.”
James chuckled darkly, his white teeth flashing. “I’m not in the mood to clean up my messes.”
Dean looked to the ceiling and then back to me. “You know how this shit works.” He shook his index finger at Tipponi. “That needs to be a message to Stevens and Romano.”
“I'm pretty sure the twenty-eight dead men we left on the streets were a pretty clear message,” the agent returned.
“Nah, that just told them not to fuck with us. Those men were sent here before Haley was taken.”
“Stop saying her name,” he growled.
“We need to put this fucker’s body in a place that will send the right message, Garner. This isn’t some low-level goon you killed. This is the leader of the West branch," Dean explained.
I tipped my chin to him. “Where do you want to drop the body?”
Dean walked to the windows, his boots tracking Tipponi’s blood, and looked down at Busch Stadium.
“In the middle of his lucrative business.”
A smile broke across my face. This was going to be fun.