Page 86 of Holding On

Sophia is going to lock down the rest of the building. No one will be leaving or making outgoing calls or communications. It’s going to be a dead zone below the residential floors. If we knock out their cell service, it may push Kane and Rick too hard and too fast, but if someone in Lux is giving them a heads up, it will disable that ability.

Thor

Security is being told this is a drill, staff is not being notified as per protocol for security drills but will be played off as a tech issue.

We land moments later and Jett, Ethan, and I jump into Walker’s truck as he floors it, getting us to the underground parking of my building in less than five minutes when it’s usually a ten-minute drive. While on the way, Walker lets me know that he’s going to follow our plausible deniability rule to a point and let me take the lead because it’s Tinsley, but he will be taking Rick into custody today.

Most of my brothers, or well, all of us Callahan men, have our own moral codes or sense of right and wrong. It’s a deep sense of right and wrong, but it doesn’t necessarily always follow certain laws, regulations, or social norms if it means protecting a loved one. But we didn’t take an oath to uphold the Constitution of the United States. Well, Liam may have taken some oaths of his own over the years, but who knows with my brother. But we don’t want to put my brother-in-law, Walker, a former decorated sniper with the U.S. Army Rangers and current FBI Agent in a precarious situation where he would ever have to choose between badge or family. We respect him—and his work—too much. So, we use the term plausible deniability around him as his hint to leave the room, or when we’re trying to prevent him from being put in a situation where he would have to make a challenging decision. We would never ask him to make that choice.

Walker telling me he will be taking Rick into custody was his way of basically telling me not to kill the guy … but he didn’t say Rick needed to go into custody uninjured, and if Walker meant Rick needs to be unharmed, then he really should have been specific with me.

Because today? Today, I’m splitting hairs. To be fair, I didn’t make any promises, I just looked at him when he informed me of his plans, keeping my face as neutral as I’m able to right now given the circumstances, and then looked back to the road as we raced to my girl.

There are too many unknowns in this scenario, but I know that I will be getting to Tinsley, and after today, whether he leaves with Walker or leaves this earth all together, today is the last day Rick Wilson will ever lay a hand on my girl.

If I have any say in it, it will be the last time she is in the same room as him for the rest of his life as well.

I need to figure out how he even bypassed our security system and guards to get the opportunity to be in the same building, let alone the same room as her in the first fucking place. I take my role as protector very seriously when it comes to the people that I love, and I failed my girl when they somehow got to her.

And someone is going to pay; someone will face my wrath.

I don’t like unknowns. I like plans and answers and protocols.

I like structure, and yes, I like control. I like things I can depend on.

Like my brothers. I may have no clue where in the world Liam is right now, but I am beyond grateful that I know my brother will always show up for his family—and bring an entire team of bad asses when necessary. I never have to question him or any of my siblings for that matter.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

FIFTEEN MINUTES PRIOR

“I can’t believe you shot me, you asshole!” Kane bellows from the fetal position he has curled into near the powder bathroom off the foyer. I wasn’t sure where Kane had been shot or if he had survived the bullet wound, but his nasally mewling answered half of those questions. Debbie Jo grabbed one of the hand towels from the powder room to hold against Kane’s bleeding wound.

“He is an asshole.” My verbal confirmation is instinctual, so I’m not expecting Rick’s boot. I’m usually better at holding in my cries, but the guttural yelp escapes without thought, much to his delight. It’s been months since he’s hit me, and despite years of conditioning to be prepared for his next blow, I had started to let my guard down in the last five months. At least the kick—while still exceptionally painful—is to my left side and not my already injured and recovering right side. I should maybe feel bad that Kane got shot, but he’s in cahoots with Rick, so my give a damn is busted.

“Shut the hell up and you’d do well to remember your place. You can’t fucking do anything right, can you? How hard was it to just do you job, sing, take your fat ass out on stage to perform like a fucking puppet, and keep the cash rolling in? Huh? Huh?” Rick bends down and barks in my face. “But no, you had to go and fuck everything up for me, didn’t you? You selfish little bitch! I had everything I wanted, and you stole it all from me. Like the greedy little whore you are, you had to go and run and spread your legs for Jack Callahan of all people.”

Rick continues his tirade, bellowing in my face, but I tune him out as I make a decision.

These last five months with Jack have been everything, not just in building our relationship, but with the entire Callahan family. One thing I’ve heard about over the years from Wells but had never really appreciated was how much the Callahan brothers valued martial arts. When they discovered last month after a family dinner that I didn’t know how to throw a proper punch, they refused to let me leave Murphy’s house without being comfortable doing just that.

Jack’s trained at an advanced level in Muay Thai and has a some-impressive degree of black belt in Krav Maga, and I only know those details because I hoard any and all information about Jack Callahan—what can I say, some old habits die hard. Their nieces even all practice karate at the local dojo and his brothers practice other arts, but I couldn’t say who has what belt color in karate or Jiu-Jitsu because it's never been my thing. Or it wasn't anyway, until Savannah's seven-year-old daughter, Lucy—under the watchful eye of one grinning grandfather, close supervision of four extremely proud uncles, and the rest of the Callahan crew—taught me the proper way to throw a punch.

I’m going to regret this, I’m sure. But that vein is still throbbing, so I think there’s a good chance he might kill me anyway, and if that’s the case, I’m not going down without a fight. Rick doesn’t expect me to fight him, and I may not get a second chance, but I won’t let Jack think I didn’t fight like hell to get back to him. I promised him I would never walk away from him—and I’m pretty sure that includes being dragged away by this piece of shit.

Tucking my thumb to the underside of my fist like Lucy taught me, I shift ever so slightly on the floor to tuck my left elbow back to try and brace my side a bit as I move slowly to a sitting position, knowing this is going to hurt no matter what. Once I feel stable enough to move my arm, and before he even can register what’s happening, I pull back and throw a perfect right hook into the bastard’s face, clocking him directly in the nose with a sickening yet satisfying crunch. However, with my current location on the ground under him, I’m also unfortunately immediately sprayed with a spurt of blood from the asshole’s nose.

“What the fuck?” Rick roars as he shoots upright, grabbing his face. “You broke my fucking nose!” With one hand still on the gun, his left hand is now holding his nose, partially covering his face. I didn’t think he’d be able to kick me again so soon, but it looks like both of us were underestimating each other as one hard kick knocks me back into the fetal position on the ground, followed by three hard kicks to my back and likely to my kidneys. I curl back into the all too familiar pose, knowing that I need to protect my head, but thankfully, Rick needs to tend to his wound before he can retaliate more. And I’m sure there will be more pain to come, but I fought back and broke his nose.

I finally hit back.

No matter what happens, Jack has to know that I fought back.

“Oh, shit! Rick! I can’t believe you got hit by a girl!” Kane, the apparently constant moron, laughs until he whines in pain while still lying on the floor. “Serves you right for shooting me, you asshole! Do you know how much time I put into that relationship with Natasha? Over three fucking years, not counting the time it took until she finally bit on the leads I had out there. Debbie Jo, stop moving that towel, fuck. It hurts!”

“Do it yourself then, Kane.” Debbie Jo stands, dropping the towel on Kane.

“Dammit, Rick! You know, you getting punched by her feels like karma for fucking shooting your partner!” He continues to groan in pain, oblivious to the fact that his complaining is pissing Rick off more every time he opens his mouth—and to the fact that Debbie Jo has gone exceptionally still next to him. “I didn’t even care who bit; I had so many targets out there. I just needed someone in the inner circle at Lux in my pocket. I thought it’d be easy after she responded to my message on the thriller and suspense reddit forum—hell, I thought she would be easy as soon as she opened her mouth.”