25. Dan
DAN
Nothing said family bonding like a little murder spree. Okay, not murder…well, not unless things went pear-shaped, but teaching some of our enemies a lesson in a bloody, beat-y up-y way? Sign me the fuck up.
One of our warehouses had been compromised, and Neil had managed to trace it back to some lowlife wannabes who were trying to fuck up our supply lines so they could take over the gap in the market—or so we assumed.
My mum had come up with a cool plan to get payback, and long story short, Neil and I were doing a bit of breaking and entering while my mum and another couple of our guys kept watch on the exit points.
We also had two more guys as backup, but our preliminary research suggested that this was only a small operation, so we should be able to take them down without help.
Neil often entrusted members of the firm to deal with this kind of shit, but the warehouse they’d targeted was the one that had been rebuilt after the explosion that had killed my dad.
So this was personal, and we wanted to be the ones to teach them a lesson.
The building we were targeting was on an industrial site that looked to be abandoned, although we knew better.
Neil preferred to hide in plain sight, and so our own warehouses were on a busy industrial estate, along with various other businesses including a storage unit, car mechanic, and a hardware shop.
Yes, we happened to own a large percentage of the businesses, and no, they weren’t all legal.
But they appeared legitimate, which was what mattered in the eyes of the law.
Back to the not-abandoned building. Using the blueprints my mum had sourced, we’d jimmied open a window and had fun contorting ourselves to fit through, and now we were about to give someone a lovely surprise. I tugged at my balaclava, pulling it a little lower, and turned to Neil. “Ready?”
Through the mouth hole of his own mask, his lips curled into a savage smile. “Let’s teach them why they shouldn’t mess with the Hoyton Firm.”
I nodded, slipping my brass knuckles on over my leather gloves, and flicked my blade out of its handle. Palming the knife, I followed Neil to the door that led into the main warehouse. Keeping to the shadows, we crept through the building to the smaller room that served as an office.
Everything happened so fast.
We burst into the room, Neil’s fist flying as he launched himself at the man seated on a sofa under the window.
I went straight for the man who’d cried out and dived for the phone on the desk when we entered, slamming my brass knuckles into his face.
There was a crunch, and blood began pouring from his nose.
He staggered back, clutching at his face as he collapsed against the wall, and I took the opportunity to punch the phone off the desk, letting it smash to the floor out of reach.
A thick arm wrapped around my neck from behind, and I was jerked backwards into a solid wall of body.
Choking was only fun when Lincoln was involved—fuck you, brain, for bringing that wanker up when I’m about to die—and I gasped, flailing for a second before my training kicked in and I remembered that I had a knife and a knuckleduster.
I twisted, jabbing my arm back at the same time.
The sharpened blade tore through fabric and into flesh, and then I was being yanked backwards, the person behind me crashing to the floor and bringing me with him.
I lost my grip on my knife, but I still had my brass knuckles, and I jerked up, throwing my legs apart as I sent my fist directly into the guy’s crotch.
He screamed, his grip on me instantly releasing, and I scrambled away from him, skidding across the concrete floor.
“You alright, Arson?”
I climbed to my feet, carefully prodding my neck. “Fine, apart from that knobhead trying to strangle me.”
“You did good.” Neil clapped me on the back as the door opened behind me. His gaze slid over my shoulder. “Just in time. Let’s get these three in the van.”
“Clean-up on aisle nine,” I said, eyeing the spray of blood decorating the office, and he snorted, his gaze still on the guy behind me.
“Get the clean-up crew in here.”
“On it, gaffer.” Sid’s deep voice sounded from the doorway, and as Neil’s right-hand man came into view, I shot him a grin.
“Might need to call Bryan Attwood to stitch that one up before you interrogate him.” I jerked my thumb in the direction of the floor.
He smirked. “Nah. ’Tis but a flesh wound, little lordling.”
“Aye, ’tis only a scratch,” I replied. Dropping into a sweeping bow, I turned back to my uncle. “If you’ll excuse me, my liege, I must go and find a fair maiden to tend to me.”
“Fair maiden,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Go on, get out of here, you weirdo. We’ve got it. Check in with your mum on the way, okay?”
“Yeah, alright.”
Leaving my uncle and Sid to deal with the three guys we’d incapacitated, I jogged back through the warehouse and left, stopping at my mum’s car to let her know that yes, I was fine, and it had only been a bit of light asphyxiation.
Nothing to worry about. I didn’t say anything else to her, but inside, I was worried.
Not about me, but about who those guys were and why they’d decided to target that particular warehouse.
We used it for legitimate operations now, and the contents were fully insured.
There were other targets that seemed more obvious to me, but what did I know?
I knew my mum and Neil would deal with it, but I dunno…
I guessed with my cousin being in Thailand, I felt responsible in a way.
Like I had to step up. No one had made me feel that way outside of my own brain, but I didn’t want to leave my family to have to deal with all the drama while I got to cosplay being a student and a passable hockey player.
After removing my balaclava so I didn’t look like a criminal, I jogged down the deserted road that led to Nottswood.
As I ran, I cursed myself for not having the insight to bring my SUV and park it somewhere.
I hopped over a stile into a field, following the small footpath that ran down the side of the prickly hedge, and emerged at the far end in front of a petrol station.
It was a small shortcut, cutting off a chunk of winding road, but I was still way too far from home for my liking.
Rubbing at my neck as I paced up and down behind the petrol forecourt, I pulled out my phone. Time to call in a favour. Jay or Ryker had to be in a generous mood, surely? They wouldn’t leave their bestie stranded.
A large black SUV rolled to a stop next to me, its tyres crunching on the cracked tarmac. The passenger window rolled down, and the driver leaned over.
Lincoln Bellingham’s face came into view.
Shit.
I hadn’t spoken to him since the night I’d crept out of his apartment, and until I found out what the fuck he was up to, I needed to keep my distance.
Turning my back on him, I swiped through my phone to my contacts, praying that one of my best friends was available. A door slammed behind me, and I flinched inwardly as I hit Jay’s name.
“Jay,” I said breathlessly, lifting my phone to my ear. “Are you—”
A hand wound around my sore throat as a voice sounded low in my ear. “End the fucking call.”
“Fuck you.”
“Arson? Dan?”
I blinked down at the screen.
“End. The fucking. Call,” Lincoln growled, tightening his grip on my windpipe. It hurt, and not in a good way.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to phone you. Speak to you later,” I rasped, stabbing at the screen until the call disconnected. When it was safely in my pocket, I slid my knuckleduster back on. Lincoln had conveniently parked between the forecourt and the hedge, which meant no one would see me—
I slammed my elbow back and then twisted out of his hold, punching him in the stomach. Because we were so close, I couldn’t get much power behind it, but it was enough for him to stagger backwards with a groan, his spine hitting the door of his SUV with a loud bang.
“Leave me the fuck alone,” I snarled as I stalked away, back towards the field I’d emerged from. His stupid car couldn’t follow me there.
He called after me, and I sped up, tugging my hoodie over my head.
I was dressed all in black, and it was a dark night with the moon completely covered by cloud, so it was easy for me to blend into the shadows.
I heard footsteps on the dirt as he jumped over the stile, and I swerved, ducking low as I went from hugging the hedge to moving through the long grass towards the opposite side of the field.
“Hoyton!” His shout echoed across the field, but I ignored it, reaching the far side and swinging myself over a rickety gate. The land on this side sloped downwards, with a small copse at the bottom of the slope, and I made a beeline for the trees.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I pulled it out.
Jay.
“Where are you?”
“We were worried about you.” Jay glanced over at Ryker, who was seated in one of the armchairs in the hockey house, his arms folded over his chest.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Nothing. I’m fine. The raid went as planned, and I left.”
Jay’s brows rose. “Except you called me in a panic, and me and Ry tracked you to a field in the middle of nowhere. And do you want to tell us why we saw Lincoln Bellingham prowling around the field next to the one you were hiding in?”
“Not really.” I rubbed at my neck. “Bastard tried to strangle me. Jay, got any of that arnica cream left?”
“Bellingham tried to strangle you?” Ryker asked in a low, dangerous tone.
“No! One of the guys in the warehouse. Don’t worry, I stabbed him.”
“Nice.” Ry leaned forwards, holding out his hand for a fist bump. Jay rolled his eyes, climbing to his feet.
“I’ll get you the cream and some painkillers.”
When he was gone, Ryker leaned back, his gaze scanning my face. His expression was as impassive as usual, and I had no idea what he was thinking.
Then he opened his mouth.
“What’s going on with you and Bellingham?”