Royce looked down at the handgun cradled between his palms, made heavier than normal by the suppressor screwed into the muzzle. He wasn’t worried about the fact that many of the men he would be facing in the house were related to him. They weren’t family. They hadn’t been family to him for most of his life. They wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger and end his life.

And he knew that Corbin was going to kill his mother. His anger and disgust toward her were too strong. He planned to get to her first.

His thoughts kept turning back to the men who had chosen to join him in the shadows on that brisk, windy night. They were risking their lives to help him save his mother. They had nothing to gain by being there. Not one of them was related by blood, but they were all family. Fear for their safety had a knot rising in his throat. God, don’t let one of them get hurt.

At least Dominic was with Marc and Richard at Marc’s house. The two brothers still had a long way to go when it came to mending the bridge between them, but they would stay safe under Dominic’s watchful eye. He didn’t want to worry about Marc’s safety right then.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Royce tightened his fingers around the weapon as fresh pain slashed through his chest. His mind played back their last night together on that chaise. The feel of Marc’s smooth, warm skin. The sound of his harsh pants played over and over again in his head. He’d tried to slow Marc down when it became clear that he’d only wanted to hurt himself, to create a pain in his body that was equal to the pain in his heart. Royce couldn’t allow it, wouldn’t allow Marc to hurt himself like he had in the past.

When it was over, he’d clung to Marc, wishing he could take away the pain, but there was nothing he could do. It was better this way.

The wind swelled, whipping through the massive maple trees, rattling their still bare branches and causing the large shrubs to sway. It wasn’t as bitterly cold as it had been recently, but the wind had him flinching. Shifting where he was crouched for cover, Royce let his knee drop to the ground, and cold water immediately seeped through his jeans. Either it had rained while they were out of town or the house had a sprinkler system that had recently run through its cycle.

It was just after midnight, but a number of lights were still glowing in the windows of the monstrous two-story house. When he’d dropped off the painting to his uncle, he’d only gotten a glimpse of the layout of the house, but Quinn had given them a sound blueprint to work from. His mother was in the bedroom on the second floor in the eastern wing…assuming that his uncle hadn’t moved her after showing Royce that she was still alive.

Gripping the gun with his right hand, Royce reached up and touched the earpiece he was wearing with his left to make sure it was secure. “Tell me you got it, Q.”

“I’ve tapped into the security system,” Quinn replied quickly, then continued at a mutter. “Cheap piece of shit. You’d think for the price of the house, the owner would spring for top-of-the-line.”

“Cheap makes your job easier,” Royce reminded him.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m making a quick sweep of the system. We’ve got motion sensors outside and in. Standard alarms on the windows and doors. A few cameras at the front and rear doors.”

“Any dogs?”

“You can’t hook dogs up to a security system,” Quinn replied.

“You scared of some poor little security dogs?” This time the teasing question came from Garrett over the earpiece.

“I’d rather not shoot a dog. It’s just doing its job.”

Garrett grunted. “True.”

“I’ve not seen any dogs on the security cameras, and they’ve got a wide view of the yard surrounding the house,” Quinn confirmed.

The damn dogs in Italy had been a learning moment, even if they were only playful, yappy bichon frises. Royce hadn’t spent a lot of time breaking into places, and he’d not given a lot of thought to dogs, but it was something he’d consider now. He knew he’d have to shoot his uncle and cousins, but it would suck to shoot a dog.

“Fine. Everyone check in.”

“Hayes, pool cabana. I see one through the west window. Looks like he’s on a steady circuit of the first floor. Not hitting the back room. Must be the master suite. Your uncle could be down for the night.”

“Larsen. Rear tree line. I’ve got one outside, back patio. Assault rifle in hand.”

“I’ve got the front. I—”

“Are you kidding me?” The question followed by the deep, throaty laugh sent a cold chill down Royce’s spine. He knew that voice. They all knew that voice. It was Rowe fucking Ward. Their boss.

Royce sucked in a harsh breath, his brain scrambling to think of something to say, something that could possibly save the jobs of Garrett, Sven, and Quinn. He didn’t give a shit if he was toast. He totally deserved to be canned for this, but not his friends. But before he could speak, a second voice chimed in.

“I’m disappointed, babe. I really thought you’d taught them better.”

Noah Keegan, his boyfriend and former Ranger, was with him.

“You’re doing this without code names?” Rowe continued, his question heavily laden with sarcasm and disgust. “These missions are all about the code names.”

“Rowe, are you at the office?” Royce asked.

“No. I’m about twenty yards to your left and above you.”

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Noah?”

“On the cabana roof above Garrett. Speaking of, Hayes, you need to take a step back and to your left, or that guard you’re watching is finally going to get his head out of his ass and spot you.”

“Dammit,” Garrett mumbled under his breath.

Not one of them had noticed Rowe and Noah moving into position behind them. The fucking Rangers were deathly silent, and likely the rushing wind masked any noises they had made.

“Rowe—” Royce started.

“Save it,” his boss growled. “We’re going to have a very long talk later about your decision-making process and trust. For now, Noah and I are your backup. We’ll cover your entrance and catch anyone trying to make a run for it. You do understand you have to take everyone out, right? You leave any of these criminals alive, and there will be payback.”

“I know,” Royce said. “I’ve made peace with that.”

“Just making sure you and everyone else is ready to take lives. Sven? Garrett? Are you both sure? Because this is game-changing.”

Both men responded that they were.

Royce’s gut twisted. They’d talked about the danger to his mother. They knew they had no choice, but it didn’t sit well with him. Making his friends kill.

“Quinn?” Rowe barked.

“Yeah…” Quinn paused and cleared his throat. “Yeah, boss.”

“Gidget is monitoring police bans for any call in the areas for shots. She’ll send up a warning, and she’s standing by to help if you have any issues with the security system.”

“Got it.”

Royce shook his head. All their efforts to try to sneak around Rowe were for nothing. They should have known that ex-Ranger would know what was happening. The man and his friends had already taken down a known crime boss in Cincinnati. Quinn had already made it clear that Rowe knew all about his family and his personal history. He had a feeling that Rowe had known before he did that Corbin Karras was in town.

“This is still your show, Royce. We’re following your lead,” Rowe added, his voice a little gentler.

“Let’s go get your mommy!” Noah added, and Royce pressed his lips tightly together to hold back his smile.

“Do it, Q!” Royce said, pushing to his feet.

There were two seconds of silence, and then Quinn’s excited voice filled his ear. “Security is down. Move now.”

That was the signal they’d agreed upon. Royce rushed across the dark yard toward the front door. He knew that Sven was approaching from the rear while Garrett was moving from the cabana toward the front door. All the fears that had weighed him down fell away. The worries about Marc and his mother and his friends disappeared. There was only the task in front of him. And right now, he only thought about getting across the yard and up the front steps to the porch while avoiding the patches of light thrown down from the windows.

Within a few yards of the steps, the door opened. Royce’s heart gave a little skip when one of the large men he’d seen earlier roaming the house stepped into the doorway. Royce slowed his pace and lifted his gun, but before he could take aim and squeeze the trigger, the man was spun around like a rag doll and dropped to the marble tile. The only sound was a loud thud from where he hit the floor.

“One,” Rowe said calmly in his ear. The man could have been counting sheep for all the inflection in his voice.

Royce mounted the stairs and carefully stepped over the dead man. He didn’t recognize him. Didn’t know if they were related and he didn’t care. The bastard had been standing between him and his mother. A second later, Garrett was coming up the porch behind him.

“Two down in the rear,” Sven said. “Entering now.”

“Sweeping west. Moving to clean out the master suite,” Garrett replied as he entered behind Royce.

Somewhere in the house, they could hear the soft tinkle of glass breaking. “Got one in the little room off the master bedroom,” Noah added. “Annnnd…another in the master bedroom with the candlestick holder.”

“Thanks for the update, Colonel Mustard,” Rowe said.

“Anything for you, Mrs. Peacock.”

“Fuck you.”

“If we’re picking code names now, I’m claiming Miss Scarlett,” Garrett whispered, while Royce watched him head to his left into what appeared to be an elegant library with dark wood bookshelves. “That woman had style.”

“I don’t get the reference,” Sven said. A second later there was a muffled shot, followed by shouting and more shots. These were loud, answering shots. Corbin’s men had finally figured out that the house was being attacked. “One down, but I’m taking heavy fire in the kitchen.”

“I’m on the move,” Noah said. There was a slight strain in his voice as if he were hurrying to climb down from his perch on the cabana roof. “I’ll have a shot in less than a minute through the family room windows.”

“I’m coming, Larsen,” Royce said. He’d taken two steps toward the grand staircase and then stopped, turning to the dining room that would lead back into the kitchen.

“No! Stick to the plan,” Rowe barked.

Royce hesitated. He needed to get to his mother while the house was in chaos, but he didn’t know how many people were targeting Sven. He couldn’t leave the man helpless and in danger. Not when he was so close.

“Go, Royce. I’m okay,” Sven said. Sven’s words were accompanied by the sound of broken glass. “Clear now!”

Royce took that as a sign it was safe for him to get up to the second floor. By his count, they’d taken out at least nine of Corbin’s men, but he didn’t think any of the dead men were his uncle. He knew that Garrett and Sven had seen a picture of Corbin, and he was confident that Rowe and Noah knew what the old bastard looked like if they’d checked into Royce. None of them had mentioned that Corbin was among the dead. That meant the fucker was either on the second floor or not in the house.

Royce’s footsteps pounded up the curved stairs. Just as he was coming around the corner, pain sliced through his upper arm followed by the sound of a shot. Royce dropped to his knees and pulled back around the curve.

“Think you can just storm in here, Alesandro?” Nick called down the stairs from the second floor. “You and your mom are never leaving here alive!”

Royce glanced over to find blood soaking his shirt, but the bullet had just ripped along the top of his arm. It fucking hurt, but a handful of stitches and he’d be fine. His cousin would not be fine when he was done.

“I’m pinned down on the stairs. Anyone got eyes?” Royce demanded.

“Not me,” Rowe came back.

“Sorry. No,” Noah added.

“I’m on the opposite staircase to the second floor,” Garrett said. “Let me see if I can offer a little crossfire.”

Royce shifted, lifting his gun as he waited for Garrett to distract Nick. A second later, he heard some muffled shots from Garrett’s gun followed by Nick’s angry swearing. More shots were fired back. Royce drew in a deep breath and shifted forward. He could clearly see Nick at the top of the stairs, but only this time, his attention was pointed toward where Garrett had fired at him.

He felt zero remorse when he aimed and squeezed off two quick rounds that buried themselves deep in Nick’s chest. The large man was thrown backward, his gun falling from his limp fingers. Royce charged up the stairs, his weapon at the ready. His eyes scanned the open hallway for other attackers, but there was only Nick. He lay on the white carpet, his dark red blood staining it in a growing circle. Nick’s eyes were wide and fearful as he gasped for air. Blood bubbled up in his throat and spilled out the side of his mouth as he tried to breathe while blood filled his lungs.

Years of torment as a child, a rush of ugly memories crowded his mind as he stared at the man. Royce could only guess at the number of people Nick had tortured and killed over the years since he’d risen to power under his father. The world was a better place without Nick Karras in it. Lifting his gun, Royce squeezed off one more round, placing the bullet in the center of Nick’s forehead. He might hate his cousin, but he didn’t believe in allowing someone to suffer. Not anymore.

“Royce?”

Royce’s head snapped up at the sound of Garrett’s voice. His friend stood just a few feet behind him on the stairs, gun up as he scanned the open hallway.

“Take the right and clear the bedrooms. I’ll take the left. She’s got to still be here.”

Garrett grunted and crossed to the right, stepping over Nick’s dead body and carefully heading down the empty hallway. Royce hurried in the opposite direction and paused outside the first bedroom door. His mother shouldn’t be in this room, but the other bedroom at the back of the house. However, the door was shut, and Royce didn’t want to leave the room unchecked.

Putting his shoulder against the wall, he reached out with his left hand and pushed the door open. The light was on and he caught a glimpse of what appeared to be the corner of a queen-sized bed in the center of the room before he darted back out of the open doorway.

“Come in, Alesandro. We’ve been waiting for you,” Corbin called out, sending a cold chill down Royce’s spine.

“Front bedroom,” Royce muttered for his companions before he slowly moved into the open doorway with his gun clutched between both his hands.

Corbin stood in the center of the room, using his mother as a shield. Cathy was a small woman, barely standing over five feet, so she was a poor shield, but the gun pressed to the side of her head was enough of a deterrent to stop him from taking a shot. She flashed Royce a weak smile that crumbled from her lips the second it appeared. Her normally pale skin looked almost gray, and there were a couple of healing bruises on her face. Greasy, limp brown and gray hair hung around her slender face, threatening to block her vision.

“Mom,” Royce breathed. He was relieved to see that she was still alive. While Corbin might have shown that she was still breathing a couple of days ago, he wouldn’t have put it past the old bastard to shoot his mother the second he’d discovered that Royce was attempting to steal her back.

“Royce, baby, I’m so sorry. I—” Her voice cracked on his name. She blinked, and fat tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

“Of course it’s her fucking fault!” Corbin bellowed. The hand he had clamped on her upper arm tightened before he shook her. “If she hadn’t taken you from the family, I would never have had to do this. You belong to me, Alesandro!”

“I don’t belong to you. You’ve disgraced the Karras name. My father never would have wanted this. My father would never have accepted hurting a woman. He would never have accepted turning his children into criminals if that’s not what they wanted.”

“Don’t lecture me about my brother—”

“You’re not worth a tenth of your brother! My father was a good man.”

“Your father was weak!” Corbin lurched forward, spittle flying from his lips as he spoke. He suddenly remembered their standoff and pulled Royce’s mother tight against him again. “I loved Alesandro with all my heart, but he was never strong enough to run the family business.”

“You’re probably the reason he and my brother were killed. Or maybe you just arranged for that tragic moment…”

“Fuck you!”

“Brett was just a kid, but what did it matter to you? Just a power-hungry bastard, willing to kill his own brother and nephew to get what he wanted.”

“You don’t know anything about what happened to your father, and you’re killing your mother if you don’t put your gun down.”

Royce slid farther into the room, putting the wall to his back. He’d not heard any other shots, so he had a feeling that they’d taken out all of Corbin’s thugs, but he didn’t want to risk someone coming up behind him. As he moved to his right, Corbin forced his mother to shuffle slowly toward the left, so they stayed directly in front of Royce.

“If I put the gun down, you shoot me and then my mother.”

“I can shoot your mother first if you prefer,” Corbin offered with a twisted grin. Sweat covered his forehead and upper lip. There was a small tremor to the gun he was holding, as if his arm was growing tired. The man was definitely sick, but Royce was not content to let whatever disease was ravaging his body finally end his life. Royce had no intention of leaving the house with Corbin Karras still alive. He didn’t know if Corbin had killed his brother, but the bastard was a threat to his mother and his friends. And Marc.

“Let my mother go, and I’ll stop fighting you. Come work for you.”

“No, Royce!” Cathy cried but her pleas were cut off when Corbin gave her another shake.

“Mom—”

Everything happened in a flash then. Anything Royce might have wanted to say to his mother become lodged in his throat. The glass in the lone window shattered a second before half of Corbin’s head exploded. His body went limp, falling forward onto his mother. Royce snapped out of his shock and grabbed her. He jerked her roughly against him, freeing her from Corbin’s dead weight before she could become trapped.

“Mrs. Peacock…in the bedroom…with the revolver,” Rowe said in his ear, and Royce laughed as he hugged his mom’s frail body against his. Her tears were soaking his shirt, and she was shaking so hard, but he was just grateful that she was safe back in his arms.

“Shhh…Mom…it’s okay. You’re safe. We’re both safe.” He repeated it over and over again as her sobbing started to slow. He needed to get her to a hospital or somewhere…maybe even Dr. Frost could look her over. She had to be malnourished and dehydrated. Definitely needed her meds again.

“Oh, Royce. I’m so sorry. I never wanted this for you. Wanted you to be happy, find love.” Her voice broke on a sob. “Now you’re going to jail.”

“Tell your mother you’re not going to jail,” Rowe said firmly. “At least you won’t if you get your ass out of there now.”

“Rowe?”

“Noah and I’ve got clean up. We were never here. This was a drug deal gone wrong.”

“But…”

“Your uncle had extra, local guests staying in the house. Fortuitous, eh? You’re taking your mom directly to Snow. The doc is going to look her over and decide whether she needs to be admitted to the hospital. We’ve got this covered.”

Royce closed his eyes against the burning from unshed tears. He didn’t know how he’d gotten so lucky to have such friends. When he’d stepped onto the property, he had been sure that he’d be spending the rest of his life in jail, and he’d come to terms with that future.

“It’s going to be fine, Mom. I promise.” He gave her another squeeze before putting enough space between them to help her walk across the hall and down the stairs. Garrett and Sven met them along the way. Both men looked like they were in one piece.

“House is clear, but we should get going before one of the neighbors decides to call in the gunshots,” Garrett said as they reached the bottom of the stairs. He eyed Garrett closely, worried about what he’d see. Taking lives—even bad ones—wasn’t easy. But his friend merely smiled broadly at him, his gaze darting from his mother to Royce. He got it, then. They spent a lot of time protecting people who weren’t always so squeaky clean, and there were a lot of hours and days where nothing happened. They could never be sure if they were making a difference, if they actually helped someone.

Tonight, despite the bodies and bullets, they’d done something good.

“Let’s get you to the doc so he can stitch you up,” Sven added.

“Stitched up?” Cathy’s head popped up, and she showed her first spark of strength. “Were you hurt, honey?”

“Just a little scratch,” he quickly said while glaring over his mother’s head at Sven. The large blond man quickly covered his mouth to hide his smile, while Garrett chuckled behind him. “We’re going to see a friend who can take care of us both.”

They were walking again toward the front door when he felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket. Wincing, he reached back with his injured arm and pulled it out to see Marc’s name flash across the screen.

For a heartbeat, he considered trying to bridge the gap between them. Corbin was dead along with his evil son. But the rest of the Karras family could come after him. Between that and Marc’s heart, Royce was still a danger to Marc’s life.

He almost wished Corbin had shot him. The pain slicing through his chest was stealing his breath away. He couldn’t keep Marc.

Then it hit him. Marc wouldn’t be calling him unless something was wrong. He knew they were rescuing his mother tonight. Dominic would have given him at least a rough estimate of when Royce was unreachable. He clicked his phone, lifted it to his ear and anything he would have said locked in his throat, Marc already talking.

“What did you do to Dominic?” Marc demanded, his angry voice coming through clearly on the phone, but it sounded distant, like he was holding the phone away from his face.

“He’s fine!” snapped another voice. It took Royce a second to recognize Richard. It was higher and shakier than he’d ever heard it before.

“Where is he? What did you do?”

“I just gave him a laxative. He’ll be fine in a few hours. Now get moving,” Richard ordered.

“You don’t need a gun!”

“The gun is to make sure that you do exactly as I say. Now let’s go before any more of your bodyguards come trotting through here.”

Royce’s heart stopped beating for a second and then slammed hard into his chest. Oh fuck!

They’d trusted the wrong sibling.