Like fuck was he going to get in the van and let his little brother drive him to somewhere more private, or whatever the hell he had in mind. If I hadn’t been obsessing about Carrigan…James shook his head. “Not going to happen.”
“What’s going on here?”
James didn’t take his attention off his little brother as Michael approached. “Just a little familial disagreement.” With the other man, they’d be two on one against Ricky. He glanced at his second in command. “Ricky’s feeling a little overtired.”
“I have a fucking gun! You should be pissing your pants! Not making goddamn motherfucking jokes!” He waved the pistol. He never saw Michael move, slamming his own gun across the back of his head and dropping him.
James sighed. “He’s a problem.”
“He’s not the only one.”
He glanced up. It took his mind far too long to process the change in Michael. The man stood straight and held his gun pointed at James. He slowly held up his hands, trying to calculate his chances of dropping to the ground and getting his gun from his ankle before Michael shot him. They weren’t great. “Think about this.”
“I don’t have a choice.” Michael motioned him away from the van. “If it’s any consolation, after the last few weeks, I wouldn’t have chosen this.”
“Well, shit, Michael. Since you’re obviously not going to let sentiment stop you from shooting me in the fucking back, it’s not much of a consolation at all.” He moved slowly. “I hope they’re paying you well, whoever the fuck they are, because you’re going to die for them.” He wasn’t going down without a fight. He had too goddamn much to live for. Carrigan. He loved the woman and if he died, she’d end up married to that Russian and fading away as the years passed. James couldn’t stand the thought of the wildness that he loved so much in her dying any more than he could stand the thought of another man’s ring on her finger.
He watched Michael closely. “Want to tell me who bought you off? I’ll have to send them something nice as a thank-you gift.”
The man’s hand shook, and he brought his second one up to the grip of the gun to steady it. “I tried to change my mind, James. I told that Russian bastard I couldn’t do it. But it’s you or me now. No one crosses Dmitri Romanov.”
Dmitri Romanov. There was that fucking name again.
Where’s Carrigan now? Is she with him? There were no innocents in their lifestyles, but there was also a huge gap between the families in Boston and the kind of shady shit Romanov was pulling right now, turning his best man against him. Carrigan had never been one to color inside the lines—it was only a matter of time before she did something to piss Romanov off. And then…
I’ve got to live so I can get her out of there.
“I’m not usually down with killing fools, but for you, Michael, I’ll make an exception.”
“I wouldn’t.” The apology was gone from Michael’s voice. “He sent me to make sure this goes off without a hitch. Even if you take me out, it won’t do a damn bit of good.”
Goddamn it. James looked around, but all he could see where shadows. “Where?”
“Like I’m telling you that.” A pop of gunfire sounded in the distance. Michael half turned. “What the—?”
James moved. He tackled the other man, shoving his arms over his head as they went down. He was vaguely aware of more gunfire in the distance, but he was too busy trying not to get shot by the little weasel to worry about it. After he got over his initial surprise at the attack, Michael fought like a man possessed. He let go of the gun and punched James in the side, stealing his breath, and then went for his eyes.
There was no finesse. James grabbed his throat and slammed his head back into the ground, but it only stunned Michael for a second and then he was attacking again, rolling James beneath him and rearing back to get some force into his hits. A sizzling sound broke through, and he suddenly started spasming, his eyes rolling back in his head. He slumped to the side, revealing a woman standing behind him.
Carrigan.
Carrigan saw the blood on James’s face and pulled the trigger on the Taser to deliver another devastating bolt of electricity to the little shit on the ground. She held the button down, wishing it was something more permanent. And then James was there, pulling her away from the man and into his arms. “What are you doing here?”
“Saving your ass.” She clung to him, trying to process the fact that they hadn’t been too late. He was okay. A little bruised and bloodied, but he was alive. “God, I was so worried about you.”