It made sense. A lot of men preferred their offices to be a bastion of quiet and very private. So whether they were fucking a mistress on their desks or making a call to have someone killed, no one would interrupt them.
My grandfather’s office had always been right in the middle of Der Sonne. He was never apart from my grandmother or me. I would follow his lead. If I had to hide who I was from my family?
No. I refused.
A gentle stroke down the side of my hand pulled me to the present and grounded me. I took a deeper breath. Anger thrummed through my veins, throbbing like an old bruise.
Pretty Boy and Bodhi were both watching me. The corner of my mouth twitched upward. Just enough of a smile to let them know I heard them. I was here. I could see and feel them.
It seemed to satisfy them both and I glanced over to find Adam staring at me. He had his hand on Ezra’s shoulder, bracing him. Ezra’s head was down, his frown fierce. This was going to be hard on him. When I raised my eyebrows, Adam nodded to Ezra.
He wanted Ezra away from this. So did I, but this wasn’t our decision. Ezra needed to see this through every bit as much as we did. I swore Adam and I argued for a thousand years in that one stare, then he relented.
No, he didn’t have to like it. Just as he never wanted me in this fight, but he couldn’t keep me from it. The sound of a thump from around the corner made me curious to look, but I waited
In the scant few seconds since Liam and Vaughn moved out, there had been no sounds rushing out to detail their actions. A positive sign, because the guards had no reason to be quiet.
Didn’t make the waiting any less of a strain.
Another thud, then a softest drag of a shoe against the rug alerted us to Liam’s return a moment before he poked his head around the corner.
“Tag, lady and gentlemen, you’re it.”
Adam surged ahead and I followed right behind him. Ezra was behind us with Bodhi and Pretty Boy falling in around him. They were very much letting us have this one, only acting to protect us as needed.
The smaller library waiting area outside Wallace’s office was quiet. I swept it with a look as I stayed with Adam.
There were four men, somewhat stacked together like cordwood. They’d also been stripped of their weapons. At a glance, I couldn’t really tell if they were even still breathing.
Frankly, I didn’t care. At the doors to Wallace’s office, Adam waved us all to the sides. He didn’t bother with subtlety when he pulled out the Desert Eagle and shot the lock. It damn near blew off the handle. The gun’s report was loud in the close quarters.
Then he hit the door with his foot, kicking it open. Pretty Boy was right there, shoving the second door wide and they were both pointing guns at Wallace Graham, sitting behind his desk, an open bottle of Scotch on his desk and a half-full rocks glass in his hand.
The disheveled look didn’t suit him. His eyes were harder, colder, and his skin far more ashen than I was used to seeing it. There were also deep shadows beneath his eyes.
“What’s the problem, Wallace?” I asked as I walked in with Bodhi and Ezra. “You look a little troubled.”
Rather than answer me, Wallace focused on Ezra and his smile turned cruel. Before I could say a word, Adam knocked the drink out of Wallace’s hand and sent the glass tumbler flying. It shattered and when he would have protested, Adam put the Desert Eagle right up to his forehead.
There would be no head if he fired at this distance.
I struggled to think of why I cared beyond the fact it would be too swift of an end for him.
“Still hiding behind Reed,” Wallace said, his tone dismissive. “Pathetic, Ezra. As always.” There was no shock in his eyes, no fear. In fact, there was very little reaction at all. Then he focused on Adam. “Maybe you wouldn’t be so eager to protect my weak son if you knew how he felt about you.”
“Save it,” Adam said. “I’ve known everything I ever needed to know about Ezra from the day he lied to my father’s face and said he’d broken into the bar instead of me.”
Wallace snorted. The corners of his mouth turned down. “How unfortunate that you’re as damaged as your mother—”
He didn’t get to finish the thought. Instead, Adam used the broad side of the gun to pistol whip him right out of the chair. It sent the older man sprawling. Rather than follow with his gun, Adam stripped off his jacket, holstered the Desert Eagle, then stripped the gun holster as well.
Pretty Boy accepted the weapon like they did this every day. Taking his time to roll up his sleeves, Adam circled the desk. Wallace was still on the floor, blood staining his lip and cheek crimson. More dripping from his nose.
“You can’t treat me like this,” he said around his rapidly swelling lip. “Do you not remember—”
Adam helped him to his feet, dragging Wallace upward before he slammed his fist into his face and sent him staggering.
“I know exactly who you are, Wallace Graham. I know how you abuse your son. Collude with your brother. Kill innocents to make a point. Make deals with the devil to sell your own child…”
Adam dragged Wallace up again, then delivered three rapid blows—two to his stomach and the third to a kidney before the man went down again.
“Maybe you need to remember who the fuck I am. My name is Adam Reed and Ezra is my best fucking friend and you have hurt him repeatedly for the emptiest of reasons…”
“Bullshit,” Wallace snapped back, pushing himself up this time. Blood flecked his spittle as he shot Adam a venomous look. “Power is never an empty reason. I was trying to make him stronger. Losing cause that it was… if he’d been a man, he never would have bent over for those boys.”
“Fuck you, Dad,” Ezra said. “You don’t know shit.”
“I know you’ll get on your knees,” Wallace wavered on his feet and he swayed toward Ezra, but I stepped between them. It brought those hate-filled eyes in my direction. “Oh look, it’s the bastard of Reed’s little slut. How does it feel to be the prime piece of ass that everyone wants for her money? I bet my son would bend over for you too.”
I lifted my brows. “You seem to be badly misinformed,” I said and he put a hand out like he was going to shove me away. He never touched me, I struck with the open palm of my hand right to his nose and he reeled backwards, yowling.
“You little bitch.”
Rather than say another word, Adam was just on him in a hail of vicious jabs and punches. Yet with every blow he rained down, he wasn’t delivering the full force. He was making it hurt.
It wasn’t long before Graham’s whole face was a mess of bloody contusions, snot, tears, and swelling. One of his eyes was closed fully, but Adam let up when Graham was on his knees.
The harshness of the man’s breathing betrayed the cracked ribs. Those hurt like a bitch. He tilted his head back, trying to glare at all of us. Not that he seemed to manage much.
