Chapter 40
Goldie
Being stuck on the sidelines sucked. It wasn’t even so much that she wanted to be in the thick of the action, but watching the man she loved creep closer and closer to danger had every nerve in her body on edge.
And then she saw it. The glint of metal behind the smaller Russian’s back when he moved.
Fuck.
Did Brody see it? What if he didn’t and he tried to step in and save Rowan’s worthless life and got himself shot?
Terror clawed at her throat as she watched Brody move toward the madman with a gun. He’d told her to stay put, and for once she didn’t really want to disobey him.
But she couldn’t just sit idly by while he walked unknowingly into danger, either. If he wanted to whip her ass for it later, so be it. She’d handled it once, she could handle it again. Could handle anything he wanted to do to her as long as he lived.
Clutching that desperate wish to her chest, she inched forward, mimicking his movements. Keeping low to the ground, her back pressed against the building, she followed him, her heart threatening to beat itself right out of her chest with every step.
“Oh, don’t worry. We have every intention of giving you what’s due.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Smaller Russian had the gun in plain sight now, pointed right at Rowan’s chest. She might think he was a bit of a prat, but she didn’t want to see him die.
Heart in her throat, she watched as Brody moved out of the shadows, his own firearm raised.
It hadn’t actually occurred to her he might have a weapon of his own, which she could see now was a ridiculous oversight on her part.
A man like Brody O’Rourke never went anywhere without the ability to defend himself and the people he loved.
“Put the gun down, and walk away.”
Brody’s voice didn’t waver in the slightest as he leveled his own pistol at the two Russians staring down his cousin, but Goldie’s entire body vibrated with terror at the sight.
Smaller Russian only smirked. “You brought us a present. Two O’Rourkes with one gun.”
“You can certainly try,” Brody said, his tone the verbal equivalent of a shrug, as if the entire situation was nothing more than a mild inconvenience to him.
“But you’ll be on the ground before you get a second shot off.
If you put the gun down now, I’ll let you walk away.
There’s no reason we can’t all leave this parking lot alive. ”
Unless the big guy there also has a gun. Which would put the odds firmly in the Russian’s favor. Brody might be able to take out one of them before they shot him, but unless he possessed some kind of superhuman speed she was unaware of, he’d be dead before he could get a second shot off.
Panic dug its claws into her lungs, squeezing until all the oxygen had abandoned her and the edges of her vision turned gray. She had to do something to protect him, but what? Throwing herself into the fray would only give them another target and distract Brody in the process.
Whipping her head around, she looked for something, anything to help. Her gaze landed on a large rock less than a foot away, and a plan rooted in her mind. It was, potentially, a really stupid fucking plan that could backfire horribly on all of them, but it was the only plan she had.
The world slowed down around her as she crouched and hefted the rock in her hand. She said a brief prayer this crazy ass plan of hers would actually work, pulled her arm back.
And let the rock fly.
Brody
It wasn’t the first time he’d stared down his own death.
But he’d never done so knowing his babygirl was so close, watching him play Russian roulette—hah—with his life.
He’d been tempted, so fucking tempted to leave Rowan to his fate, but he couldn’t do that to Murphy.
They’d all already lost so much, the thought of standing idly by while his cousin lost his only child had moved him into action.
So now here he was, praying the Russians would see sense. He was perfectly willing to walk away, just as he’d told them, but now the ball was in their court.
And he could see it in the smaller man’s eyes, that he had no intention of laying down his weapon.
I’m so sorry, Goldie.
He was just about to speak up, to give them one more chance to cut their losses and run when a loud clanging sound rang out around them.
Smaller Russian jumped at the sound and the muffled pop of his gun going off reached Brody’s ears a moment before he pulled his own trigger once, then twice.
Both Russians and Rowan crumpled to the ground, red staining the pavement around the bodies as Brody rushed forward, his heart slamming against his ribs.
Kicking the gun from the smaller Russian’s hand, Brody knelt beside Rowan’s head.
He pressed surprisingly steady fingers to his cousin’s throat, relief flooding his veins when he found the pulse steady and strong.
Dragging in a breath, he forced himself to focus on where the actual blood was coming from.
“Oh, god. Is he dead?”
Gratitude and relief at having her close warred with fury at her being anywhere near this carnage. “Where are you supposed to be right now, menace?”
“Wherever you are.”
Fucking brat.
God, he loved her.
Looking over, his heart stopped at the sight of blood soaking her face. “Did you get hit? What the fuck happened? Where are you hurt?”
Her mouth twisted up in a grimace as he gently cupped her face, searching for the wound. “Tripped throwing that damn rock and hit my head. I’m fine, it’s just bleeding like a bitch.”
“What rock?”
She rolled her eyes, then winced, and his heart twisted at the pain he could clearly see in her eyes. “The rock I threw at those trash cans over there to distract the Russians.”
Craning his neck around, he looked from where he’d left her to the trash cans. “You’ve got a hell of an arm if you managed to sling a rock all that way.”
“Umm… yeah. Sure.”
Something in her tone had the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as he turned back around, taking in the pink staining her cheeks beneath the blood. “Look at me, menace. Now.”
He knew even before she turned that guilty stare on him that she hadn’t, in fact, stayed where he’d put her. “Where did I tell you to stay?”
Chin firming, she jerked her head up, fire and fury smothering whatever pain she might still be feeling. “I wasn’t just going to sit there and let them shoot you!”
“I swear to god, menace, you are never going to sit comfortably by the time I’m through with you.”
“That’s not fair! I saved your life!”
“By risking yours!”
He was yelling now, but he couldn’t find it in him to lower his voice. Not knowing she’d put herself so close to danger. An image of her, bleeding and lifeless on the ground popped into his mind and fury bubbled in his veins.
But Goldie wasn’t the least bit cowed by his anger. Leaning in, she jabbed a finger in his chest. “If you think for one goddamn second I was going to sit by and let you take on two armed men all by yourself without doing something to help, you’re a fucking idiot, Brody O’Rourke!”
He was interrupted by Rowan groaning, his face screwing up in pain as his eyes fluttered open. “Am I… am I dead?”
“Not for lack of trying,” Brody growled. “Stay still. I’m calling the others to come help us clean up your goddamn mess.”
Thankfully, Rowan seemed to take the order to stay still as permission to pass out again, which was just fine with Brody.
He pinned his little menace with a hard glare as he yanked his phone from his pocket.
“Stay right fucking there or I swear to god I will spank your ass right here in this parking lot and I don’t care who sees. ”
When she nodded, he rose to his feet and paced a few feet away to call Killian. “Grab the twins and Naomi. We’ve got a situation.”
“Text me the address.”
Nothing more needed to be said, so Brody ended the call and dropped his cousin a pin letting him know where they were. With that handled, he closed his eyes and breathed deep through his nose.
Big mistake. All he could smell was the coppery scent of blood. His cousin’s blood, the blood of the men he’d killed.
It could have been her. If the Russians had seen her, if that shot had gone wide, if even one little thing had gone differently, Goldie could be the one lying on the ground right now, bleeding out.
But it wasn’t her. Dragging in another breath, this time bracing himself for that smell, he repeated that mantra over and over until his stomach untwisted itself and his heart slowed to a somewhat normal rhythm.
Feeling at least a bit steadier, he turned his attention back to his brat, who had stripped her shirt off and wrapped it around the gaping wound in Rowan’s shoulder.
“For fuck’s sake, Marigold.” Jerking his suit jacket off, he draped it over her shoulders to at least somewhat shield her from anyone who might happen to pass by.
Which was fucking ridiculous, because anyone who happened upon them would be way more interested in the dead bodies in front of him than a shirtless woman, but the thought of anyone laying eyes on what belonged to him had the edges of his vision going red.
“I’m trying to stop the bleeding,” she snapped at him, giving the knot in her makeshift bandage a yank that had Rowan groaning loudly. “Unless you’d like him to die a slow, painful death while we wait for help to arrive.”
“If you’d waited ten goddamn seconds, I would have used my shirt.”
“That’s a really weird fucking way to say ‘thank you for saving my worthless cousin’s life’,” she snapped, while Rowan groaned and rolled his head to the side between them.
She was right, even if it stuck in his craw to admit it. “Thank you for saving my worthless cousin’s life.”
“Hey. No’ worthless,” Rowan mumbled before promptly passing back out.
They stared at him for a moment before Goldie tilted her nose in the air and gave a delicate sniff. “You’re welcome.”
It seemed impossible for him to feel anything close to amusement under the circumstances, and yet it tickled his chest as he fought not to smile at her. “As soon as Naomi gets here and gives you the all-clear, I’m going to put you over my knee.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m a brat, I need my ass beat, yadda yadda yadda.”
His palm physically itched to connect with her ass, but as he’d told her once before, there was a time and place for certain things. And kneeling on the ground with a wounded man and two dead bodies in front of them was neither the time nor the place for him to give her the attention she deserved.
Luckily for her, the sound of a slamming door distracted him from her bratting, and he jerked around to find Killian hurrying their way, Aria and Reagan and Naomi all hot at his heels. “What the fuck happened here?”
“Spotted this dumbass”—Brody gestured to their still-unconscious cousin while Naomi dropped to her knees beside him—“talking to those two. Turns out, he’s not our mole, he’s just a moron.
He was trying to sell them information about you being a kinky bastard.
Seemed to have himself convinced it would ruin you if that information was made public, so he passed off some pictures of you and Aria at the club. ”
There were very few times in his life Brody had seen Killian O’Rourke speechless. “He did what?”
Ice coated Killian’s tone, and Brody had the brief thought it might actually be better for Rowan if he didn’t survive being shot. “You can kill him after we save his life.”
Closing his eyes, Killian drew in several deep breaths. “All right. What happened after that?”
“The smaller guy there pulled a gun, so I made my presence known, which led to something of a standoff until Goldie distracted them.”
Eyes flying open, Killian turned an icy glare on Goldie, who drew back with a soft whimper. “Distracted them how?”
It settled him on a primal level to see his own fury at his menace reflected in his cousin’s eyes. Confirmation that he wasn’t overreacting.
Or at least if he was, he was in good company.
“Threw a goddamn rock at a trash can.”
A cackle of laughter drew their attention to where Aria and Reagan had taken up spots on either side of Goldie. The latter had her chin in the air again, defiance all but radiating off her while Aria dissolved into laughter and Reagan smirked.
He was going to kill all of them.
“Oh my god,” Aria managed breathlessly, clutching at her stomach as giggles continued to pour forth from her mouth. “That’s like something out of a cartoon. I can’t believe that worked!”
“She’s lucky it did.” That same ice Brody had seen in his cousin’s eyes now coated his voice, and Aria straightened, her mouth dipping down into a frown as she stared at her husband. “You could have gotten yourself killed, Marigold. What were you thinking?”
Pulling Brody’s jacket more tightly around her, she met Killian’s gaze, her eyes still flashing with righteous anger. “I was thinking there was no way I was going to sit by and watch the man I love die.”
“She has a point.” Reagan shrugged when he turned his glare on her. “Just because she’s a woman doesn’t mean she’s incapable. You would have done the same, or worse, if the situation had been reversed.”
“That’s not the point. And it has nothing to do with her being a woman and everything to do with her being mine. I’m an O’Rourke, and the O’Rourkes protect what belongs to us.”
Reagan raised a brow. “And you want her to be an O’Rourke. Ergo…”
“I can’t wait for you to find your own babygirl so I can throw this whole conversation back in your face,” Brody grumbled. From the corner of his eye, he saw Naomi look up, her cheeks turning pink before she looked back down at her patient.
Before he could do more than fleetingly wonder what that might mean, Goldie stepped forward, drilling a finger into his chest. “Reagan’s right. If it comes down to getting my ass beat or losing you, I’ll choose the spanking every goddamn time.”
Her voice broke toward the end, and guilt stabbed at him. The need to comfort, to soothe, to assure her he was still alive took over and he pulled her into his arms, and it felt like his heart might actually break when the shaking started.
“Shh, menace. I’m right here. Nothing bad happened. Daddy’s right here, baby.”
“I was so fucking scared,” she whispered, the bravado drained from her voice. “I couldn’t do nothing, Brody. I couldn’t just stand there and—”
“I understand.”
Pulling back, she stared up at him through tear-soaked eyes. “You do?”
“There is nothing I wouldn’t do to protect you, to keep you by my side for the rest of this life and whatever comes after. It isn’t fair of me to expect you to do anything less for me.”
Confusion flickered in her eyes, but she inclined her head in a regal motion he imagined she’d picked up from Reagan. “Well… good. Because I won’t.”
Yanking her close, he ducked his head, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear as he dropped his voice to a low growl. “You are still going over my knee the second we get home.”
“Worth it.”