"I'm a fighter. I believe in the eye-for-an-eye business. I'm no cheek turner. I got no respect for a man who won't hit back. You kill my dog, you better hide your cat."
- Muhammad Ali
I vowed not to wallow or let guilt overtake me. The only way to ensure my brother's safety was by making sure Sergei ceased to exist. To accomplish this, there were minor steps I needed to execute. But these small steps were set to form a massive retaliation on my part because my motto was to either go big or go home.
My office had served as a sanctuary for contemplation. In my brooding silence, my mind whirled with plans to counter Sergei's strike. I had sent Irving and Sawyer out to gather intel, anything that would give me an upper hand.
The clock ticked away the small hours. Finally, the door creaked open, snapping me out of my bitter contemplation. Sawyer stepped in, a sly grin on his face. The shadows of the dimly lit room shrouded his features.
"Sawyer, any luck?" I questioned, fixing my eyes on him, praying he brought me the news I awaited.
"We've got a lead," he announced with a level of satisfaction. He sauntered closer to my desk, "A big one. Apparently, there's a large shipment due to land in Sergei's Englewood warehouse at dawn."
My heart thundered with anticipation. The nugget of information felt like gold. A ray of revenge piercing through the storm of gloom Sergei's attack had unleashed. I squeezed my fists and felt the leather of my chair crunching under my grip. His indifference for his family had led me here, a strike against his precious shipment would hit Sergei where it hurt the most.
"Get ready Sawyer," I spoke in a steady voice, controlling my rising anticipation.
He nodded.
"We're gonna need the big guns for this one. This needs to be quick and clean," I instructed. "Tell Irving to gather up our men. I want eyes on that warehouse all morning. No one, and I mean no one, gets in or out without our knowing."
"Understood," Sawyer said, moving to leave.
As the door closed behind him, I reclined in my chair. Tomorrow, I was certain, the tables would turn in my favor.
Last night at Frankie's, I saw something quite touching. The deep affection she showed towards her brother was quite endearing. I was awed at how she bravely sprinted towards the gunfire, without any hesitation, risking herself to protect Noah. It showed her profound love for him in a way that made my admiration for her swell even further.
"Ronan, hey, how's it going?" I said into the phone, trying to sound casual despite the gravity of the situation.
"Everything's fine. I've just been worried about you all! Been trying to reach Conor for a while now, with no success. Are things alright over there?" His concern was evident.
Ronan had been away in Italy for more than a week, oblivious to the frightening incident from the night before. Judging by the fact that Conor hadn't answered his calls, I assumed he didn't want to stress him out. I chose to respect that and decided keep it that way.
"Yeah, it's all good. Everything's okay, no need to worry," I said with a false air of assurance. "When will you be back?"
"Actually, Conor's meeting me here tomorrow, which is why I was trying to contact him. Anyway, do let me know if there's anything you need. See you soon." he said, ending the call.
Even though I knew Ronan would be mad at me for keeping him in the dark, I had to do it. With him so far away, he would've been helpless and there was no reason to cause him unnecessary worry.
I had hardly managed to catch any sleep last night; the haunting image of Frankie crying in my arms seemed to take over my thoughts. There was a part of me that yearned to stay with her, despite not being certain if she needed me to, yet I couldn't manage to suppress this urge.
Leaving the house, I decided to swing by Frankie's place to check on her and Noah, feeling compelled by an overwhelming urge to make sure she was okay.
──●◎●──
"Hector Pierce, here to see Ms. Monroe," I announced, introducing myself to the new men standing guard at the gate.
I was grateful to see the dozen or so guards standing by, as it made me feel more reassured knowing Conor was looking out for the safety of Frankie and her family.
The guards acknowledged my arrival and directed me into the house. Two of them flanked me as we made our way inside.
Greeting me at the door, Conor spoke up, "Glad to see you made it, Hector. Let's head into Frankie's office."
Seated in her office, Frankie's features bore a serious air, consumed by an ocean of thoughts, so deep she barely registered my entrance.
"Frankie," I addressed her. "How are you doing?"
Surprised at my presence, she lifted her gaze, "Hector! Hi... I'm okay... just okay," her voice wavered unconvincingly.
Underneath her tired eyes lay unanswered questions. I could only wonder about her inner turmoil.
"I didn't get the chance to thank you for the help last night. You, Zane, and Goat really came through for us. I can't thank you enough, it means the world to me. I'm forever indebted to you," Frankie's gratitude resonated deeply within her tone.
"Frankie, there's no debt to repay. As long as you and your family are safe, that's all that matters. Whenever you need anything, I'll be there," I said, trying to offer her some comfort.
Nodding in response, a tiny smile ghosted across her features.
"And the boys, any news?" I asked.
"Andy is doing great, but Steve is going to need some time to recover. Thankfully, Goat was a match for his blood. Be sure to thank him for me, will you?" she requested.
"Don't think twice about it," I responded.
She gave me a tight-lipped smile, and instantly snatched her ringing phone from her desk. After scanning the notification, she sprang from her chair, swiftly grabbed her car keys, and dashed out of her office, leaving Conor and I behind.
"I just remembered that I have a last-minute client meeting to attend, so I must be going." With that, she stormed out, leaving us confused.
"Wyatt, Mason, don't lose her!" Conor barked into the phone, ordering his crew to tail her.
"What is going on, papà?" I questioned, confusion washing over me.
"I know her too damn well! She's trying to pull a fast one, but I won't stand for it! Noah is her line in the sand and Sergei crossed it! He won't get away with this, not if I have anything to do with it," Conor growled through gritted teeth.
"But what about Big Solly? I don't think he'd take it lightly," I said.
"Do I look like I give a damn? Maddie, Frankie, Noah and you... you are my family too! If I can't stand up for my own flesh and blood, then I'm good for nothing!" He roared.
Without wasting a second, I jumped off the couch and dashed to the door.
"I think I know where she's going," I told him before rushing out. "Goat, meet me at Sergei's Englewood warehouse! ASAP!" I shouted into the phone, stepping on the gas and tearing down the road.
I drove off to Sergei's Englewood warehouse, suspecting that Frankie and Sawyer were already there. Several attempts to call them had gone unanswered, only furthering my suspicions. If what Logan said about an unexpected delivery due this afternoon was correct, then it's certain Frankie would be here. She was too savvy to ignore a tip like that.
When I reached the warehouse on the south side of Chicago, I kept my car far enough away to avoid suspicion. My suspicions were confirmed when I spotted Sawyer's car around the corner, tucked away from view. I quickly and carefully rushed to them. I was lightly armed with only my Glock 17, but the two of them were full to the brim with gear and masks, a sign that this mission had been carefully orchestrated.
"You should know better than this!" My clenched teeth practically growled my outrage. I was beyond infuriated that Sawyer went along with Frankie's foolish plan.
"What the fuck is your problem!" Sawyer grunted, shoving me.
"Your job is to keep her safe, not fucking drag her into danger!" I retorted with a stronger shove.
"Enough! Both of you, just stop!" Frankie interjected, breaking us apart.
"Why are you trying to get yourself killed? Do you think this is a game?" Fear thinly veiled my outburst. "Frankie, this is suicidal!"
"Well then, you shouldn't have come," she retorted. Reaching into the car's trunk, she grabbed two Barrett M82s. "You know your way back, don't you?" she shot me a hostile glare before leaving with Sawyer.
"Frankie!" I called after her, only for her to completely ignore me. "Fuck!"
Shortly after, I heard gunfire ringing out, followed by Goat's arrival.
"You sure took your fucking time!" I spat, aggravated. "Brought the sniper rifles?"
"Got 'em!" he affirmed.
"Let's get going!" I instructed, rushing towards the direction of the gunshots.
Frankie and Sawyer were perched atop two nearby abandoned buildings with their sniper rifles, taking out Sergei's men one by one with an impressive, deadly accuracy. I couldn't contain the surge of pride as I observed her at work; she showed an impressive level of professionalism.
Suddenly, my attention was drawn to three of Sergei's goons, stealthily making their way towards the roof of the rundown warehouse where Frankie was stationed.
"Cover me!" I bellowed at Goat, racing towards the shooting with my AK-103 in hand.
I opened fire on the trio, managing to take down two. Unfortunately, the third was swift enough to make it to the rooftop.
"Goat! The shipment!" I hollered.
As the cargo truck driver tried to escape with the shipment, a bullet from Goat sent him spiraling out of control and crashing into the warehouse.
I rushed up after the third man who had evaded me and was now prowling the rooftop, on the hunt for Frankie. I attempted to take him out, but the bastard was taking cover well, making it tough to land a shot. For a fleeting moment, I lost sight of him when I was checking Frankie's location. I sprinted across the rooftop, and finally found her.
"Frankie!" I yelled, diving in front of her just as Sergei's man fired.
I retaliated with a volley of bullets, sending him plummeting off the roof. Frankie looked at me, her eyes wide with shock.
"Why'd you do that?" she asked, a trace of calmness in her voice.
"Do what?" I replied.
She motioned towards my shoulder, which was now seeping blood. The adrenaline pumping through my system had dulled the pain, making me oblivious to the bullet wound.
"Time to clear out," I stated.
"It's all clear, I'm just gonna blast this place off the map and make sure there's no evidence left. You both should get a move on," Goat declared.
"Let's not linger here, the cops are coming." I hurried Frankie towards the car.
"I'll stay and help Goat," Sawyer confirmed.
──●◎●──
Our drive home was shrouded in silence, the only sounds being the purr of the car engine and the soft patter of the first drops of rain against the window. Frankie sat beside me, her eyes constantly fixed outside. Her gaze avoided mine, and I didn't want to crowd her with my questions.
A strange mix of concern and anger for her clouded my thoughts, which was an unsettling experience.
"Are you okay? I asked quietly, gently laying my hand on her arm.
Her only response was a simple nod.
As we pulled up the driveway and came to a halt outside our home, Frankie finally broke the silence. "Let's get inside. I'll help you clean that up." She gestured towards my shoulder wound.
"I'm fine, really. It's nothing fatal." I brushed off her concern, unable to meet her eyes.
After a beat, Frankie opened her door and climbed out of the car, leaving me with no choice but to follow suit.
"Oh my! What the hell happened?! Did you get shot at again?!" Conor cried out as soon as we stepped inside. His face was filled with worry.
"We did the shooting this time," Frankie answered flatly. "Where's Noah?"
"He's in the lounge," Conor replied.
"Shit! We can't let Noah see you like this, Hector. Follow me to my room; I can help you clean up there. Papà, can you distract Noah for a bit? We'll be down soon." She instructed.
Conor nodded in agreement. "Sure thing, just go."
Once inside her room, I couldn't help but appreciate the simple beauty and peaceful atmosphere of her personal space. Soon after, she reentered the room with a first aid kit.
"Shirt off, please," she ordered.
As I removed my shirt, I noticed her attention focused solely on me, and it filled me with an odd sense of warmth. She began tending to my wound with a tenderness that surprised me and I couldn't help but enjoy her attention despite my wound no longer bleeding.
"Does it hurt?" Frankie questioned, her voice revealing a tinge of worry.
I simply shook my head. "I'm okay. I reassured her."
"The bullet only grazed your shoulder, fortunately," she said, locking eyes with me.
We were only a few inches apart, so close that I could feel the warmth of her breath on my face. I was mesmerized by the sheer beauty of her lips, and without warning, I found myself gradually leaning into her, as if I was being drawn in by some strange force. To my surprise, she seemed to be doing the same.
Yet, as our lips were mere inches apart, she stepped back abruptly. "Uh... you're all set." She hastily muttered, walking away from me.
"Thank you," was all I could manage in response.
Fuck.
──●◎●──
My fingers moved quickly over the screen of my phone, dialing Zane. "Zane," I said, my voice crackling with contained fury, "We've got work."
Zane knocked once, before opening the heavy oak door to my office. "What's going on?" he asked.
Without wasting time, I cut to the chase. "Last night's hit. I need you to get me everyone involved." I spat out the words, clenching my fist at my side. "The puppet master who orchestrated the play, the rats who drove their getaway, the monkeys who loaded their weapons, everyone, Zane!"
Zane stood silently for a moment, his steel grey eyes burrowed into my gaze, fully understanding the gravity of the order. A curt nod of acknowledgment and he finally spoke, "Consider it done. I'll get the ball rolling and let you know as soon as I have something."
Turning on his heel, Zane slipped out of the room as silently as he'd entered, leaving me with my crowded thoughts.
The memory of Frankie, and the almost-kiss we shared, consumed my thoughts. The powerful attraction I felt towards her was unsettling, making me feel drawn to her for reasons I could not fucking explain. The only information I held about her was her career, and her dark secret of being a trained assassin in her free hours. But, this unknown seemed to resonate with me in an unexplainable familiarity, as if I'd known her for a lifetime. The charm of her ferocious spirit, quick-witted sass, and strength of character were too fucking sexy. It was all becoming a maddening obsession, filling me with an undeniable desire to claim her, both gently and savagely.
There was an intoxicating power in her independent attitude, one that drove me to want to break through her defences, to show her the heady intoxication of being deeply desired and owned.
I was rooted to my seat, eyes focused on the same sheet of paper for the last twenty minutes. Work was impossible, her image was lodged in my mind, impossible to shake.
A few hours later, Zane walked into my office with a serious expression on his face. "I've got someone you might want to see."
We hastened out of the office, rushing down to my private underground parking lot.
Boris Ivanov was hung from the ceiling with a length of rope, the embodiment of pain and misery. He had been enduring relentless torture for a long time, leaving him bruised, battered, and barely breathing. It was a common scenario that my men played out with our captives, but if I'd been aware that it was Boris on the receiving end, the circumstances would've differed.
Nonchalantly, I made my way towards him, unconcerned about stepping in the fresh pool of his blood. I held his gaze, my eyes emotionless and cold, resembling the frigid Chicago winter.
"The one and only, Boris Ivanov," I began, my voice mimicking the frosty air outside. "I was under the impression that you'd retreated to Moscow."
Through his tear-filled eyes and the line of blood oozing from his forehead, Boris managed a frail smile. "Had I known this would be the outcome, I never would have come back," he admitted with regret.
"If I knew it was you that my men caught, I wouldn't have continued with standard protocol," I countered nonchalantly.
Boris Ivanov, a trusted lieutenant and cousin of Sergei. Despite descending from the corrupt bloodline of the infamous Ivanov family, Boris had earned a reputation for his integrity and sincerity. Ironic, ain't it? However, no one can choose their family.
"Just tell me what I need to know, and I promise I'll make it quick," I urged him.
Boris held my gaze, a palpable tension clinging to his every word. "Sergei has it all figured out," he divulged. "He knows about Conor's girl, the attorney."
The news felt like an ice-cold splash, chilling me to the core. Clearly, Sergei was already informed about Frankie, but finding out her connection to Conor complicated matters severely.
"But how?" I snapped.
"I don't know how," Boris responded, weariness painting his voice. "But one thing is clear, he's set his sights on her. He'll stop at nothing to get her."
I was familiar enough with Sergei to recognize his sick intentions from a hundred miles away. The fucking pervert wanted to harm her in order to get to Conor and Ronan. But I couldn't allow that, not under any circumstances.
"Thank you," I nodded respectfully towards Boris before giving my men the killing order.
As much as I would have preferred to spare his life, both Boris and I understood that Sergei would subject him to a worse fate once he discovered his presence here. Being the paranoid bastard that he was, Sergei would stop at nothing to extract the answers he desired, even if it meant killing his own flesh and blood. Therefore, I was essentially doing Boris a favor, giving him a merciful end and preserving whatever dignity he had left.