3. Killian #2
“I intend to,” I confirm and as we lock eyes, something passes between us. A promise or a warning. I’m not sure which.
When I tear my gaze away, Malachy’s staring down at his hands. Good, I haven’t given anything way. And then I notice Lorcan. His scrutiny makes me uncomfortable.
He cocks his head to the side. “Shorty?” he asks, repeating the name Katarina used on me
Trust him to pick up on the one tiny detail my other brothers missed in the middle of our argument.
“He’s shorter than me,” Katarina explains.
“Six foot one is not shorter than five foot eleven,” I say through gritted teeth.
The first time I met Katarina was at a charity event for the Griffins.
We’d stood eye to eye, hence why she’d given me my nickname, but the only reason we matched in height was because Katarina was wearing her fuck-me stilettos.
I glance at her feet. Only Katarina would wear boots with a high heel going into combat.
She casts a critical gaze over my brothers, sizing them up. “When you were all standing together, you were definitely the shortest, Shorty.”
Katarina and I had travelled with the Griffins from Chicago on their private jet.
We’d landed on a stretch of highway that had been temporarily blocked off after Malachy greased the palms of the local police.
My brothers and our small army of faithful soldiers had been waiting in the dark for us.
Our mission was simple. Get Ash Griffin’s girl back at all costs.
I shouldn’t be surprised that amongst all the chaos of coordinating our teams, Katarina Barkov was measuring us up.
“Yeah, I suppose Killian is the shortest,” Tiernan says helpfully.
“Still over six foot,” I remind Katarina. “And taller than you once I get you out of your–”
Brakes screech and the truck comes to a shuddering stop. From the commands being barked outside, the rest of our cavalcade has also come to a halt. We all draw our weapons.
“This is as far as we can go by road,” Ronan explains through the cab window. “We’re on foot from here.”
The opening attack isn’t as bad as some scrapes we’ve been in, but it’s still a shit show.
My brothers and I split into separate units, and the Griffins do the same as we breach the outer perimeter of the compound.
It’s not so large that we’re not aware of each other’s positions, and when I don’t have eyes on my brothers, we’re in contact through comms.
Katarina stays with me and one of her first kills is a sniper tracking Ronan and his unit.
If Ronan doesn’t clock her saving his ass, I’ll be sure to let him know later.
Explosions and gunfire echo through the mountain range, and while we eliminate the enemy with practiced efficiency, we don’t avoid all casualties.
A poor woman is killed as she tries to escape from the main lodge where the captives are being held. Oleg Kalinsky, a Bratva deserter, is leading the counter attack and he’s the one who carries out what amounts to a cold-blooded execution.
When he retreats to the second floor where Lorcan and his men had been clearing the bedrooms earlier, the Griffins pursue him.
My unit circles the lodge so we can attack from the other side, but as soon as we step into the building, the fighting intensifies.
The ex-Bratva soldiers have recovered from our surprise attack and are pushing back.
“Killian, we’re in the gym,” Malachy says in my earpiece. “We’re outnumbered.”
I immediately change direction. “Heading to you now.”
“I’m on my way too,” says Lorcan.
“Ronan, Tiernan,” I add, “keep your men outside. Don’t let any fuckers escape.”
Katarina spent time here and she’s the one to lead our unit down a long corridor to a set of double doors. Before she can dive straight into the fight, I slip my fingers into the waistband of her jeans and jerk her back.
“What the fuck are you doing?” she hisses.
Protecting her is instinctive, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to admit that. “Staring at your arse is distracting me,” I say instead. Not a lie. “Keep behind me.”
There’s no time to argue. I crash through the doors and start firing. Malachy and four of our men are on the other side of the gym. They’ve been hemmed in, but our arrival forces our enemy to scatter.
Lorcan appears from the other side. There are less men in his unit than there were before. Not good.
If I’d been worried Katarina would be reluctant to open fire on men she might know personally, she quickly proves otherwise.
She keeps to my shoulder and as I turn my weapon to the right, she aims left and takes out two gunmen.
When I pick off targets in front of us, she directs her fire behind.
Our movements are fluid and perfectly synchronized. It’s fucking beautiful.
By the time the last man falls with Katarina’s bullet in his head, we have an audience.
Malachy narrows his eyes at me. There’s no explanation for how attuned Katarina and I are to each other’s moves, but before he can make some acerbic comment, Mace Griffin cuts into our comms. They’re caught in a standoff upstairs.
“I need to be there,” Katarina says, spinning on her heels.
I’m about to follow when Malachy grabs my arm. “Whatever you’re thinking of doing with her, don’t.”
“Not the time for a lecture, Mal.”
“That may be so, but when the fighting stops… I know you,” he says. “Don’t. Do. It.”
In my periphery, I’m aware of Katarina disappearing from view. My need to follow and protect her is primal. I’ve given my brother my only answer so I turn to the others. “Mikey and Conor are with me. The rest of you clear the ground level and let’s be done with this.”
When I catch up to Katarina at the top of the stairwell, I slip in front of her, again, and peer through the narrow pane of glass in the fire door. It provides a clear view of the corridor that dissects the lodge’s second floor in two, dividing up the guest bedrooms.