softening around his eyes to save his features from harshness. There was something contemplative in his gaze, like he was imagining some future where bad things didn't happen to her. As if he was silently begging her to imagine it too.
Or maybe she was dreaming the wordless promise, seeing what she wanted to see. It wouldn't be the first time. "Bren--"
He covered her lips with two fingers and cocked his head. Then he turned her with his hands on her shoulders, urging her toward a stack of boxes in the corner. "Hide. Hurry."
She swallowed her protest and hauled ass. She'd been in enough street brawls to know her place when the bad guys came armed.
The roar of bike engines grew louder as she ducked behind the boxes and eased a knife from her boot. Bren closed the crate of guns, leaned against it, and lit a cigarette.
The door crashed open, and Jimmy--the taller of the Griffen brothers--walked in. His scowl was evident even behind his thick mustache and unruly beard, and it deepened when he caught sight of the bound, unconscious man on the floor. "And just who the fuck are you?"
The answer was calm, unwavering. "I'm Bren."
"Is that supposed to mean something to me?"
"Probably not yet," Bren allowed. "But this sector belongs to Dallas O'Kane now, so you'll be seeing a lot of me."
Jimmy reached toward the small of his back, where a pistol butt stuck out of his pants. "Or maybe O'Kane's about to be seeing a lot less of you."
"Maybe." Bren curled his fingers around the edge of the wooden lid. "What's in the crate, Griffen?"
Six had to bite her lip on a swell of wholly inappropriate laughter as Jimmy flung one hand toward Bren, his entire body tensed in sudden, visceral terror. "Don't!"
Bren grinned. "Worried I'm gonna blow that mangy beard off your face?"
"You crazy motherfucker." The man's hand clenched behind his back, his knuckles brushing the gun. "You wouldn't--"
"Don't move!" a second voice screeched from just inside the door. Will, the other brother.
For a split second, everything was silence. Then the sound of a shotgun round being chambered spurred Bren into a flurry of motion. He grabbed Jimmy by his beard and spun him around in front of him as the shot exploded, peppering the room.
The man screamed, and Bren shoved him forward before the other man could pump the slide and prepare another round. As the brothers collided, Bren snatched the shotgun and swung it around like a club, aiming for the knees.
The blow took them both down. Bren lifted the shotgun, pressed a button near the stock, and worked the pump repeatedly. Unspent shells went flying, and he dropped the gun.
The clatter of it hitting the floor faded, leaving only the pained groans of the Griffen brothers--and Six's hoarse exhalation as she let out the breath she'd been holding.
A handful of seconds. That was all it had taken Bren to take down two armed men.
He was magnificent . And he was hers.
He plucked the pistol from the back of the taller brother's pants and unloaded it as well. "I'm not trying to smash you guys up. I'm not even trying to take your business. But shit doesn't go down here until you run it by O'Kane. That's how it's gonna be."
Jimmy hissed out a pained, irritated breath, but he was smarter than his brother. He held both hands away from his body in clear surrender. "We'll pay his cut. We ain't stupid."
"It's not just the money. He knows what you do before you do it."
"Fuck, how are we s'posed to tell him? No one knows who the hell's in charge over here."
Bren shrugged. "For now, you talk to me."
Pride seemed to choke both brothers, but they were subdued enough that Six quietly sheathed her knife. By the time it was nestled safely in her boot again, Jimmy was forcing out an awkward-sounding request. "Can we move the rest of what we've got?"
"Get up." Bren waited until they complied before continuing. "Watch who you sell to, and keep it clean. That's what Dallas wants."
"And a cut," Will interjected with a sour
Or maybe she was dreaming the wordless promise, seeing what she wanted to see. It wouldn't be the first time. "Bren--"
He covered her lips with two fingers and cocked his head. Then he turned her with his hands on her shoulders, urging her toward a stack of boxes in the corner. "Hide. Hurry."
She swallowed her protest and hauled ass. She'd been in enough street brawls to know her place when the bad guys came armed.
The roar of bike engines grew louder as she ducked behind the boxes and eased a knife from her boot. Bren closed the crate of guns, leaned against it, and lit a cigarette.
The door crashed open, and Jimmy--the taller of the Griffen brothers--walked in. His scowl was evident even behind his thick mustache and unruly beard, and it deepened when he caught sight of the bound, unconscious man on the floor. "And just who the fuck are you?"
The answer was calm, unwavering. "I'm Bren."
"Is that supposed to mean something to me?"
"Probably not yet," Bren allowed. "But this sector belongs to Dallas O'Kane now, so you'll be seeing a lot of me."
Jimmy reached toward the small of his back, where a pistol butt stuck out of his pants. "Or maybe O'Kane's about to be seeing a lot less of you."
"Maybe." Bren curled his fingers around the edge of the wooden lid. "What's in the crate, Griffen?"
Six had to bite her lip on a swell of wholly inappropriate laughter as Jimmy flung one hand toward Bren, his entire body tensed in sudden, visceral terror. "Don't!"
Bren grinned. "Worried I'm gonna blow that mangy beard off your face?"
"You crazy motherfucker." The man's hand clenched behind his back, his knuckles brushing the gun. "You wouldn't--"
"Don't move!" a second voice screeched from just inside the door. Will, the other brother.
For a split second, everything was silence. Then the sound of a shotgun round being chambered spurred Bren into a flurry of motion. He grabbed Jimmy by his beard and spun him around in front of him as the shot exploded, peppering the room.
The man screamed, and Bren shoved him forward before the other man could pump the slide and prepare another round. As the brothers collided, Bren snatched the shotgun and swung it around like a club, aiming for the knees.
The blow took them both down. Bren lifted the shotgun, pressed a button near the stock, and worked the pump repeatedly. Unspent shells went flying, and he dropped the gun.
The clatter of it hitting the floor faded, leaving only the pained groans of the Griffen brothers--and Six's hoarse exhalation as she let out the breath she'd been holding.
A handful of seconds. That was all it had taken Bren to take down two armed men.
He was magnificent . And he was hers.
He plucked the pistol from the back of the taller brother's pants and unloaded it as well. "I'm not trying to smash you guys up. I'm not even trying to take your business. But shit doesn't go down here until you run it by O'Kane. That's how it's gonna be."
Jimmy hissed out a pained, irritated breath, but he was smarter than his brother. He held both hands away from his body in clear surrender. "We'll pay his cut. We ain't stupid."
"It's not just the money. He knows what you do before you do it."
"Fuck, how are we s'posed to tell him? No one knows who the hell's in charge over here."
Bren shrugged. "For now, you talk to me."
Pride seemed to choke both brothers, but they were subdued enough that Six quietly sheathed her knife. By the time it was nestled safely in her boot again, Jimmy was forcing out an awkward-sounding request. "Can we move the rest of what we've got?"
"Get up." Bren waited until they complied before continuing. "Watch who you sell to, and keep it clean. That's what Dallas wants."
"And a cut," Will interjected with a sour
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