When Brian returned an hour later, Vaughan was there. He walked right up to Brian and gave him a one-armed hug. He’d always liked Duke’s partner who was also Quick’s only son. He was young, fourteen years Duke’s junior, but when he spoke he told his true age. Quick had called his son an old soul. Vaughan had crushed on Duke for most of his teenage life. He’d gone abroad to school, said he’d left to grow up. When he’d returned home, a brilliant young lawyer, full of confidence and charisma; he’d went after exactly what he wanted—Duke.

“How you been, Brian?” Vaughan asked, tucking one hand into his dark blue pants pocket. Vaughan’s designer suit fit his lean body to perfection, making him look like one of those Invictus models.

Brian was about to ask his brother to translate his response when his phone rang. It was 8:05. Dinner time. Brian forgot all about Vaughan and took three long strides to his desk and jabbed the speaker button.

“Duke’s.” Duke yelled over the background noise on the other end. Kitchen noise.

“Yes. This is John LaRoy. An order just came in and Marlow swears it’s the guy’s voice, but his room is under a new name and he’s on the seventh floor.” The chef rattled out in one nervous breath.

“We’ll be there in twenty.” All of them were already throwing on their leather coats. “Plan is still a go. Restaurant is clear?”

“Yes. Marlow is ready, too.” The chef confirmed before hanging up.

Brian hit the speaker. Finally.

“All right fellas. Gonna make this smooth and easy. We don’t usually catch a break like this. So, no noise if you can avoid it. And please, no fuckin’ damage. I don’t even wanna know how much shit costs in this hotel,” Duke swore.

Ford and Dana both scoffed the same way. Duke could say that all day, but it was usually him and Quick causing all the destruction. Duke turned to his lover and gave him a heated look that appeared to promise something later.

“I love you too. Be safe,” Vaughan told him, kissing him quickly and pushing him out of the door with his men. “I’ll lock up here.”

“Always am. I love you back,” Duke answered, jumping into the driver’s seat. Quick gave a mock salute to his son and they pulled off.

Ford’s truck was fired up, loaded, and the three of them were roaring down Lenox Road behind their bosses. The traffic wasn’t as bad at that hour, allowing them to arrive in exactly seventeen minutes. They circled the back of the large hotel to the delivery entrance of the restaurant. Chef LaRoy was waiting for them outside. When they all got out, Brian wasn’t sure if the usually suave chef was going to pass out.

“You guys look…” Chef LaRoy sounded a bit breathless. “That’s a lot of weapons… and—”

They looked like a rogue swat team—or more like the Skynet resistance—and when all five of them were together… they looked like trouble. Duke stepped forward. “Calm down. Trust me. We’ll be done with this in a matter of minutes. You’re doing us a really big favor, I can’t thank you enough.”

Chef LaRoy straightened, “Good then.”

As soon as they came inside, the kitchen staff’s bustling came to a screeching halt. Eyes bulged, and mouths flopped open. They moved quickly behind Chef John, who told his employees everything was under control and to keep working. Most of his employees were in the dark, their sting was only for those who needed to know. Marlow was loading up his cart towards the front of the kitchen. Arranging the food almost scientifically. He could’ve put an empty plate under the silver dome, it wasn’t as if they were going to allow Robert Clarkson to eat it before they took him.

When they got to Marlow, he stood beside his tray while Chef John gave it a careful inspection.

Brian stepped forward and put his hand on Marlow’s shoulder. It earned him a shy smile, accompanied by a confident pose. It was clear to Brian that Marlow was scared, but the young man was also trying to impress them. He hadn’t missed the way he took in their uniforms and gear. Marlow placed the billfold on the side of the cart, his shifty eyes going to the interesting yellow and black handgun on Duke’s hip.

“It’s just a salt gun, all it shoots are pellets. We don’t like to get lethal. Salt’s safer than slugs,” Quick answered Marlow’s unasked question. “And yes, they hurt like a sonofabitch’.”

Chef and Marlow seemed to like that response. There’d be no anticipation of gunfire.

“Dana, get in position,” Duke ordered his field leader. Dana was to watch from low. When he was through the back side of the restaurant and next to the stairwell, they waited for his all clear, then they moved like the well-oiled machine they were.

Marlow wheeled his room service cart out of the front of the restaurant like he did with any other order and headed to the elevators off the lobby. Duke and the rest of them moved through the empty part of the restaurant, their speed so quick and steps so light that the few patrons on the other side of LaRoy’s never bothered to even glance in their direction.

Brian let his team split from him while he waited at the emergency side door of the restaurant, just like he’d planned. It was an area no one was supposed to be in, so it was dark and Brian blended in beautifully. When he saw Marlow turn the corner, his gaze darting around as if he was searching for him. He knew Brian was there, but he didn’t know where. Marlow reached out and shakily pressed the up button for a car to come down. As soon as the doors opened, he politely allowed an elderly couple to step out, then pushed the cart inside. As the doors started to close, Brian darted from his hiding place and eased his huge body between them like a gymnast, right before they closed.

“Shit,” Marlow gasped. “Where were—?”

Brian put his finger to his lips and Marlow clamped his mouth shut. Brian maneuvered behind the kid, resting his heavy palm on his shoulder to steady him. Brian heard him inhale deeply and let it out slow. When the car dinged at the seventh floor, Marlow pushed the cart out, Brian following close behind. Duke, Quick and Ford were a few doors down from the target, their backs pushed tight against the wall. Marlow’s pace slowed and Brian didn’t push him. This was a lot for a college freshman to take in.

When they got to room 720, Marlow placed his cart behind him like he’d been instructed and knocked on the hotel room door. “Room service.” Marlow’s voice held no hint of anything being out of the norm.

Brian heard footsteps and inched even closer. He closed his eyes, tracking the steps in the room. When they were right at the door and the lock disengaged, Brian rushed forward, swooping up Marlow as he went, removing him before Clarkson opened the door, as promised. His team, flew past him in a blur, charging into Clarkson’s room.

“Recovery agents! We have a warrant!” Duke said loud enough for the entire floor to hear.

“Get down!” Ford yelled.

“Robert Clarkson get down!” Quick’s deep voice carried down the hall.

Brian’s first thought was that, ‘thank God’ they had the right guy. Then his next immediate thought, as he heard more commotion was: shit. Is this white collar criminal resisting? Brian had to get back to them. He could hear scuffling and things breaking. Brian elbowed the stairwell door and gestured for Marlow to get back to the restaurant and let his chef see he’s fine.

Brian hurried back down the hall, disregarding the terrified yelps from some nosy people who’d stuck their heads out of their doors. Someone had to have called hotel security by now, but when Brian got to the room, Ford had Clarkson on the floor with his knee in his spine.

“You calm? You gonna stop resisting?” Ford asked coolly. Clarkson wasn’t getting the huge man off him until he settled down.

He was yelling and screaming about not wanting to go to jail, and that he was sorry, blahblahblah. They all did this sniveling act. Duke had the warrant in his back pocket, just in case anyone demanded to see it, including their jumper.

“You guys got lots of company coming your way, elevator and stairs. Let’s move,” Dana said in their earpieces.

“Let’s go,” Duke barked.

His brother hauled Clarkson from face down on the floor and Brian got his first good look at him. The man had shaved all his facial hair, but it was him. Four weeks they’d hunted this jerk and all the while he’d been only twenty minutes away. They moved down the hall, making good time. In and out was their creed. Clarkson tried to dig his heels in, but Quick and Ford had no problem hauling him, the tips of his leather house-shoes dragging across the expensive carpet.

“Are we clear?” Duke asked before he opened the stairwell door.

“No. Take car three. It’s descending to you now,” Dana said.

Car three was already at floor sixteen, the other two were ascending rapidly. Hotel security. As soon as the elevator doors opened, they hustled inside, keeping their jumper pinned tightly between them. His hands were zip tied but unrestricted legs were unpredictable. They couldn’t put the restraints around his ankles until they got him into the transport. They’d effectively dodged the security; when they got to the ground level, Dana pointed towards the emergency exit of the restaurant. “Go, go, go,” He urged.

A few people were in the lobby but not many were paying attention. They knew how to move fast and quietly. Brian’s plan was almost fully executed, and they were just about home free.

“Not so damn fast,” an angry voice called from several feet away. “You think you’re just going to get away with this? You took everything from me. My uncle was all I had, goddamn you. My only family! You leave me with nothing!”

Brian narrowed his eyes at the troubled man approaching them in an all-black suit which appeared as though it’d been slept in for the last three days. As if he’d been on a stakeout. His hair was overgrown and oily, and he ambled along like he was in pain. Brian noticed the evil glint and his intent to do wrong. That look was unmistakable. It only took a split second for Brian to recognize him, it was Max Wright, their jumper’s business partner’s nephew. The one who’d been scoping his house and had led Brian to the hotel. He was a man with his own motive and Brian feared it had nothing to do with Robert Clarkson going to jail. Brian growled, not liking this. His brother turned and looked at him. He didn’t need to sign or mouth his concern; his brother recognized the warning all over his face.

“Get him away from this guy. Go!” Ford barked.

All of them surrounded their jumper and shuffled him back through the restaurant. Brian saw that Dana had blocked Max Wright from coming through the door they’d used. A few more feet, and their heavy boots were making fast tracks through the kitchen. Marlow, Chef John, and several of his staff watched with fascination as Duke and his team of hunters moved in sync like one massive man.

Duke ran forward to get the transport doors open. Their time was dwindling. Quick and Ford held their jumper while Brian and Dana brought up their six. By the time security found out which way they’d gone… they’d be gone.

Brian turned and looked at Dana, then behind them.

“He went back through the lobby,” Dana answered, knowing who Brian was scoping for.

“We’re outta here! Move it,” Duke barked from the driver’s seat.

Dana ran around to their own vehicle and started it up, Brian lingered at the restaurant’s service door, ensuring no one tried to come through the same way. Ford stood at the tailgate of the transport truck with Quick, as he stooped, trying to attach the leg restraints on Clarkson. The man wasn’t being cooperative or making it easy; crying and blowing snot all over the damn place as they ignored his repeated attempts to buy them off. The hairs on Brian’s neck tingled. He swiveled his head around but saw nothing at the door they’d exited.

Brian spun in the other direction and that was when he saw the dark figure in a crumpled suit approaching determinedly around the other side. Max Wright had his own plans. He’d circled around on them and had hid in the shadows. Where Brian lived…Max was in his motherfucking house. A man couldn’t seek sanctuary there, he’d find him each time. Brian knew he was going to have to tase this guy. Then as the man’s face became illuminated by the parking lot’s light, Brian saw what he’d prayed he’d never, ever see again. Yet, there it was; coming towards him. Terrorism. A man with one mission… to kill and destroy. That look in another man’s eyes made Brian’s world tilt, and his mind tug at him, as if it wanted him to go back to that time. Brian clenched his fists and remembered his years and years of breathing and took a deep inhale.

He felt as if he was in a movie, running in slow motion. Brian watched an unstable man recognize his last chance for vengeance slipping through his fingers. Brian’s body tried to lock with fear. He saw his brother was completely defenseless… and so was Quick.

His boss was still in a crouched position and Ford was holding their jumper still. None of them watching to the fucking right! Brian saw the danger… and couldn’t call out to them. Searing dread sparked in his spine, but he stayed ramrod straight. He had to do something. Anxiety and panic gripped him in his gut.

Brian stared at the face of a man who had nothing left. Nothing to lose. Brian screamed in his head when he saw Max reach behind his back. He had to get to him, stop him, but he knew he wouldn’t have time. Not when he saw Max make the decision that it was now or never. He took off towards him anyway, his heavy boots hitting the asphalt, but no one heard him. Their jumper’s loud mouth and wild, bucking kicks as they loaded him had his team completely distracted. Brian’s mouth moved, his throat flexed, but no one looked his way. He wasn’t making any sounds. He was moving fast but it just didn’t feel fast enough. Just a few more feet and…

His legs almost buckled. Max Wright didn’t just have a measly .22, he had a damn justice bringer pointed at Clarkson. But, unless the man was a sniper, he wasn’t going to hit him. He’d hit the man standing directly behind Clarkson. Ford. Hit his only brother with a weapon that was made solely to put a man six feet under. Its .480’s devastating speed and power would blow his brother’s chest wide open. No! God, no! Brian dug in harder. Running, Brian realized he only had a couple of seconds to make something happen. Or he’d live with the consequences of what his silence caused. Brian shook his head violently. His brother was about to get shot in the back. Never once had Ford not shown up for him when he needed him… brotherhood went both ways… it was his turn to finally show up. Everything in Brian screamed, ‘do something!’ He opened his mouth again, adrenaline and terror driving him towards the enemy. He filled his belly with as much air as he could while running and pulled from a place as deep down inside himself as he could go. Pulled from a place where he felt the strongest love for his brother. Vibration rattled in Brian’s chest.

Max finally caught Brian in his peripheral. He ignored the plea in Brian’s eyes, not to do it, turned and took his aim…

Noooo! Brian released everything he’d held in the pit of his soul and called out to the most important person in his life… “Ford!” then lunged.

The gun went off next to his head, a teeth-rattling bang that had his ears instantly ringing. He slammed into Max Wright at full speed, his momentum and desperation taking them to the ground and sliding them both across the unforgiving concrete. The gun dislodged, the smoking steel clanging somewhere close by. Brian heard muffled shouts and yells through the ringing, but he didn’t know who they were coming from. He was pulled off Max Wright by strong hands, while they took over restraining him. Brian staggered upright, gripping his left ear, and scanning the dark parking lot. Ford! Bradford!

“Brian!” Dana was in his face, his brown eyes wild and crazy. He shoved past Dana, stumbling as he went, looking frantically for Ford. Did he stop it in time?

“It’s okay. He’s okay, B.”

But how? How was he okay? The gun had been pointed straight at his back.

“He heard you, Brian. We all did. He spun around when you yelled his name, and the bullet clipped his shoulder.”

Brian kept walking, trying to read Dana’s lips, but his vision wasn’t clear enough. His ears continued to ring, his head hurt from hitting the ground, and his body wasn’t too far behind. Still going on pure adrenaline, Brian put one heavy foot in front of the other. Sirens and red and blue lights swarmed them, officers jumping out of their vehicles demanding that someone explain what the hell had just happened. That was Duke’s job. Brian had one goal. Get to his brother.

Ford was watching Brian approach, while Quick held a large towel to his shoulder. Blood had seeped through the white material, but not enough to cause concern. While Quick tended to the flesh wound, Ford hadn’t taken his eyes off Brian’s. He didn’t know how any of it had worked out, but he thanked the heavens his brother was still standing with him. When he was only a couple of feet away, Brian saw the unshed tears in his brother’s eyes. He opened his big arms wide and Brian crushed into him. Ford’s arms sealed around him—damn a wound—and held him tight, while Brian let it all go.

“I heard you, Brian. I heard you,” Ford whispered in his ear, cupping the back of his neck with love. “So fuckin proud of you.”