In Jack's Arms (Fighting Connollys) (18 page)

in her twenty-something years, she would understand the hell he had been through when he lost his leg in

that explosion and had to fight like hell to get off the booze.

"Can we have pizza for dinner, Finn?" Mattie whipped his backpack up and down as he walked. Before I could tell him to be careful, Finn reached out and gently pushed Mattie's arm down and gave a shake of

his head, silently indicating that Mattie shouldn’t do that.

He squeezed my brother's shoulder. "You want to have something delivered or grab something to take

home?"

"Delivery," Mattie decided. "I want pineapple."

"I'm sure we can find something on the menus stuck to the refrigerator. There's a place that Pop likes.

They do a thin crust that—"

Something snapped and dinged just to the left of us. Before I could even react, Finn had grabbed a

handful of my shirt. While shoving Mattie next to his truck, he swung me around in front of him and threw

me down next my brother. "Don't move!"

Pop. Pop. Pop.

It was gunfire. Glass exploded and metal screeched as bullets ricocheted off the handful of vehicles still in the parking lot of the arts center.

"Stay behind the engine block." Finn kept his hand on Mattie. "Abby, call 9-1-1.
Now!
"

Finn's order blasted through my terror. I retrieved my phone and slid my arm around Mattie's shoulders,

hauling my brother close as I waited for the 9-1-1 dispatcher to answer. Squealing tires and more gunshots echoed in the night. The SUV that had been trailing us slid to a stop in front of Finn's truck, blocking the incoming rounds.

A door opened and a man with three fingers waved at us. "Get in!"

Grasping the back of my shirt and Mattie's arms, Finn dragged us to our feet and pushed us forward.

"Move, Abby! Move!" He shoved us into the middle row of seats and shouted at the driver. "Shooter is on the roof."

"
Da
."

The three-fingered man snarled something that had to have been a Russian curse word. "The girl!"

Finn and I both glanced at the arts center just in time to see Hadley coming out of the building. With the white cord of her earbuds dangling around her neck, she wiggled her hips while locking the door and

seemed totally oblivious to the attack happening right in her parking lot.

"Shit." Finn didn't even hesitate. He pushed off the SUV and raced toward her. The gunman must have seen Hadley come out of the building because he fired toward her, the bullet ripping through the glass and sending a shower of shards into the air. Hadley screamed and threw her hands over her head before

dropping to her knees. She had made herself a perfect target. Finn was shouting at her but she couldn’t hear him.

The three-fingered Russian leaned out his window and began firing in the direction of the rooftop. His

weapon wasn't nearly powerful enough or as accurate, but the covering fire was enough to give Finn a

chance to reach Hadley. He swept her up in his arms and dived into the building through the shattered

window, rolling his body over hers and shielding her from the bullets and glass. He disappeared from my

view, taking Hadley to a safer spot inside the building.

I released a noisy breath just as the dispatcher finally answered. "9-1-1, what is your emergency?"

Bullets began to bounce off the hood but before I could say a single word the three-fingered man in the

front seat swiped my phone and ended the call. "No."

"But—"

"
Nyet.
" He said something to the driver who punched the gas and jerked the wheel so hard I fell out of my seat. I scrambled to get back upright and leaned over to grab the seatbelt for Mattie. He gripped my

wrist. "Abby?"

"Just keep your head down," I urged. "We'll be okay."

"Where's Finn?"

I wanted to scream at the two men to go back for him but didn't. They weren't going to listen, and

Mattie would only be more upset. "He'll be okay. He's a Marine."

I couldn't believe how stupid I sounded. Some part of me wanted to believe that was all true. I prayed

Finn and Hadley were okay. If anyone could keep her safe, it was Finn Connolly.

"Where are we going, Abby?"

I gripped Mattie's hand. "I don’t know."

"I want Jack, Abby."

"So do I, Mattie. So do I…"

Chapter Ten

"Jack Connolly?"

Pushing off his truck, Jack met the questioning gaze of the younger man striding toward him. Built like

a quarterback, the guy was easily three inches over six feet and nothing but muscle. He had brutal hands,

the knuckles busted from working on cars, and full sleeve tattoos on both arms. No doubt he chose to wear

the smudged wife beater because it showed off his ink and made him look mean as fuck.

Jack didn't miss the double-headed black eagle tattooed on the underside of the man's left wrist when he

held out his hand. It matched the one Besian proudly displayed. He wasn’t just some guy who worked in

the mobster's auto shop. This was a made man and a member of the silent inner circle of the Albanian crew.

"Yeah, I'm Jack."

"Ben," the man said, his accent colored only by the slightest hint of Texas drawl instead of the Albanian he had expected. "Arben Beciraj," he clarified. "I'm Besian's nephew."

Jack tried to figure out how that was possible. Ben looked close to Kelly's age, maybe even a few years

younger, and Besian was only in his mid-thirties. The numbers didn't add up but he wasn't about to ask

why.

"Do you have a cell phone on you?"

"Yes."

"Give it to me." Ben held out his hand. When Jack only stared at it, he explained, "Bugs and wires, man."

Exhaling in frustration, Jack pulled his phone from his pocket and slapped it onto the other man's hand.

"There. You going to frisk me now?"

"You're not my type. I like them small with big tits and tight pussies." Ben angled his head toward the shop. "Come inside. The others are waiting."

As he followed the profane and blunt man, Jack got a better look at the massive tattoo covering the

younger man's back. The tips of black wings and the beaks of another double-headed eagle were visible

around his thin shirt. With a piece that huge and dark marking his skin, there was no doubt where Ben's

loyalties rested.

Inside the auto shop, he counted ten men milling around the brightly lit interior. Most of them were

bullshitting in Albanian. Seven of them were wearing Merkurie Motors and Towing uniforms. Even the

legit employees seemed to be dipping into the dirty side of the business. Ben motioned toward the group of men, and Jack took a spot on the edge. The others shot him suspicious looks, but he didn't mind in the

least. These weren't the types of men he wanted to make friends with or get to know. He was here to do a

job, pay off the favor to Besian and go home to Abby.

Ben whistled and the room went quiet. "We've got twenty-one cars tonight and a special delivery. The

GPS units in the cars are all programmed for the drop-off. Paulie and Karl are playing taxi. When we're

done, we meet back at Sugar's. Drinks and entertainment are on the house. Okay?" The men nodded.

"Good. Let's go."

Jack waited for more instructions. After sharing a few quick words with another man, Ben crooked a

finger in his direction. He grudgingly joined the mechanic near a tall toolbox.

"Did you bring gloves?"

Jack silently cursed his oversight. "No."

Ben yanked on one of the drawers and fetched a pair of black leather driving gloves. He dropped Jack's

confiscated cell phone into the drawer and slammed it shut before slapping the gloves against Jack's chest.

"Here. Don't touch anything without these. The cars are detailed after they reach their final destinations, but I don't like to tempt fate."

"Thank you." Jack tugged on the gloves and followed Ben to a car covered with a drop cloth at the very rear of the garage. When the mechanic whipped back the cover, Jack couldn't help but let loose an

appreciative whistle at the sight of the midnight blue luxury sedan.

"You ever drive one of these?" Ben asked as he walked around the car.

"Me?" Jack laughed. "This thing costs more than I make in two years."

Ben chuckled. "You and me both, brother." He fished a key fob out of his pocket and tossed it over.

"Here. My treat."

Taken aback by the offer, Jack caught the small device and eyed Ben with distrust. "Is it stolen?"

The mechanic and car booster didn't seem the least bit fazed by the question. "Not this one." He gestured to the door. "Let's go, man. We've got to get this one delivered to its owner and the rest of the shipment in the cargo containers across town by ten."

Jack slid behind the wheel and took a moment to enjoy the incredibly luxurious interior. The creamy

leather and maple dash accents were unbelievable. He couldn't imagine driving a vehicle like this every day.

The damned thing cost more than most Houston starter homes!

He buckled his seatbelt and glanced at Ben. "Where are we going?"

"We're delivering this one to Lalo Contreras. It was a special order"

The mention of the cartel enforcer's name made his stomach lurch. Uncertain whether Ben was fully

apprised of his situation, he carefully said, "I probably shouldn't be the one making this delivery."

"It's all been arranged. Besian wanted you on this one." Ben pulled a garage door opener from the pocket of his jeans and pressed the button. "Make a left when you hit the street."

Uneasy and wondering if Besian had set him up, Jack put the car in drive. Out on the street, a silver

SUV followed close. He recognized the driver as Karl and figured Ben had given him orders to trail them so he could pick them up and take them to the warehouse after dropping off the car.

Curious about Ben, he asked, "So you do this sort of thing a lot?"

"You writing a book or something?"

"No. Just making small talk."

"Small talk is dangerous for men like you."

"Men like me?"

"Clean guys," Ben said, stretching out his legs. "Nine-to-five, tax paying, middle-class, American dreamers like you."

"Bitter much?"

Ben laughed. "Hardly."

"Look, I don't want to be here anymore than you want me here. I'm going to do this job, and you'll

never see me again."

"For your sake, I hope that's true."

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel. "Are you threatening me?"

"Do I look fucking stupid? I saw your brother fight during the tournament. Like I need three Connolly brothers up my ass? No, thanks." Ben traced the gleaming wood on the dash. "I mean that it's best for you to stay out of this life. Men like you have a lot to lose if you get caught up in it."

"And men like you? Don't you have anything to lose?"

"Not anymore." Ben inhaled a long breath and stared out the window. "Considering what Besian is doing to keep your woman safe, this is the very least he could have asked of you. Just keep your head

down tonight and get the cars to the shipping containers. When it's done, go home and forget it ever

happened."

Jack had a feeling Ben had been asked to do much, much more than simply chopping stolen rides and

moving hot cars. He would heed the younger man's advice and give the auto shop a wide berth when this

was finished.

"You have the gate code?" Jack asked as they pulled up to the guard station at one of the city's new gated community developments.

"They know to let me through," Ben said, leaning over to chat with the guard. When the gate was

opened, Jack rolled through and Ben indicated a smaller mansion just inside the entrance. "That one. Pull into the driveway and wait for one of the garage doors to rise."

Jack did as told and slipped into an empty spot inside the five car garage. Feeling claustrophobic as the

garage door slid closed, he climbed out of the car and scanned his surroundings. He suddenly wished he

had tucked a pistol into the waistband of his jeans or a backup piece in an ankle holster. He didn't like the exposed, vulnerable sensation that crept along his spine and into his chest.

"Ben!
Mano
!" Flanked by four men, Lalo Contreras emerged from a side door. Wearing a white track suit and dripping with gold chains and diamonds, he looked every bit the stereotypical mid-level drug

dealer and enforcer. "Did you bring back my baby?"

"She's happy to see you." Ben opened the rear passenger door and gestured for the cartel man to get inside. "Let me show you the new traps."

Traps? And then Jack finally understood why this delivery had to be made under the cover of darkness.

Standing to the side, Jack indulged his curiosity and watched Ben demonstrate the artfully hidden hidey

holes in the car's interior. The entire time Jack had been driving, he hadn't once noticed anything out of the ordinary about the vehicle. Ben used a series of activation steps—adjusting the temperature, lowering the

driver's side window and turning on the radio—to disengage the locks on the traps. One tap of his fingers

along the door panel and the trap popped open to reveal a space where money, drugs and guns could be

hidden.

"It's nice, man." Lalo smiled as he complimented Ben's work. "You really outdid yourself on this one."

"I'm all about pleasing my customers."

"I'm very pleased." Lalo slid out of his car. He snapped his fingers and one of his crewmembers stepped forward with two envelopes, one much thicker than the other. He slapped them against Ben's palm. "One for the shop, and one for you."

"Thanks."

"You always come through for me. I like a man I can trust."

"Come see me if you need anything else."

"Oh, I will." Lalo's attention flicked to Jack. "Can we talk, man? Alone?"