DONOVANANDBRECKINHOVER on the couch as I walk a hole in my office floor, pacing back and forth. Malia left safely with these two dipshits, only for them to return home empty-handed, leaving her with Brenner.
Since Mal stepped back from this mission, it has been hard to monitor him. Oren does what he can while they are at work, but the last thing we need is for Brenner to become suspicious and push him away.
Martinez has upped his activity around DC lately, not so much physically, but dropping his name around, so I know he is around. Bold considering the amount of pain I want to bring down on that fucker. Why, after twenty years, is he making himself known from the shadows?
We have been able to keep sex rings and trafficking nearly nonexistent within my territory. Malia has been working with other crime lords, keeping that shit under control while Donovan and Hazel do what they can to monitor Brenner.
I know it would save a lot of grief if I just told my kids the things I’m keeping from them but, if there’s one thing I will die comfortably knowing, it is that I am an honorable man. I did not know the burden that would be laid upon me the day I agreed to keep Liam away from this life.
Now, he could be gutted in his bathtub with his cock hanging out of his mouth while my baby girl continues to spiral out of control. Something happened between them and, as much as I want to put my foot down and find out what it is, I cannot demand that from Malia. I cannot strain our relationship further by staying tight-lipped while demanding she bare her soul to me.
Memories assault my mind as I think about those two as children. One specifically, twenty years ago and not long before Joey and Nadia were slaughtered.
The doorbell sounds, and I nearly trip over Donovan as he darts in front of me. My feet drag, cursing under my breath for the daycare my household has become. A home for weapons and murderers is filled with the laughter of children and sticky fingers.
Running an empire and working as a top player in the criminal underground at only twenty-three is a feat. Add two small children and a narcissist for a wife and that shit will run you down. Not that I’d change them for the world.
Malia and Donovan are the only things that make every fucked-up situation in my life worth it. I didn’t want this. Carrying the legacy of my family name, forced into a loveless marriage for power, and harboring the duties of the heir to an elite. But my children are worth every scar, stab wound, bullet wound, beating, and heartbreak that I have endured.
The front door is locked, which is unusual. Our security is so high, that locking our doors seems almost futile. If armed guards can’t stave off enemies, then neither will a measly deadbolt.
Joseph and Nadya Brenner stand in front of me as I open the door. Nadya looks exhausted yet still growing as their unborn baby grows strong in her womb. Joey looks wrecked. His jaw is tight, eyelids drooping from the sleep he is not getting while we are on this manhunt.
“Liam could have stayed the night if you needed the rest,” I say to both Brenners, jerking my head to the side to motion them inside. “Little shit must have tried to lock you out.”
Nadya giggles and Joey snorts, shaking his head.
“The way baby girl and Donnie Boy run him ragged when he’s here, he’ll be out like a light before we get to the gates,” he says, offering a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Hopefully, he didn’t give you too much trouble.”
“More like Liam chasing Malia around like a lost puppy. Anyway, that boy is too scared of me to step sideways,” I say. “Anything new on your end with Martinez?”
Joey’s body stiffens, and the color drains from Nadya’s face.
“He’s gone into hiding, but he’s sent notes—taunts. Like he has sent to you.” Joey runs his hand down his face, stopping to rub the bridge of his nose.
Walking closer to my friend, my brother without blood, I slap him on the shoulder. “We will find him, and we will find your sister, Joey.”
He nods his head, and Nadya wraps her arms around him in empathy and support. A high-pitched scream fills the room and the three of us turn in the direction it came from. Liam barrels toward us, eyes wide with fear, until he finds safety between his parents. When I hear the soft stomping following him, I groan.
“Don’t you run away from me,” my five-year-old daughter sneers with her hands on her hips, stopping in front of me.
“She’s going to kill me!” Liam yells, pointing his finger at my child, who’s scoffing at him.
My eyes cut to Joey, who’s stifling a laugh, and Nadya, whose face cracks into a giant smile.
Fuck sake.
“Malia,” I warn.
Malia spins to face me, leveling me with a glare and raising an eyebrow. Her bouncing pigtails make her look less than imposing.
“Daddy.”
“Malia punched me in the nose,” Liam grumbles, crossing his arms and jutting out his chin.
“Now, I want to punch you harder, tattletale,” she mumbles. Malia keeps her eyes on me. I know she’s trying to judge if I am pissed.
I smirk as Liam glares at the back of Malia’s head while she ignores him. Joey chuckles, pulling his son against him.