Page 10 of Savage Promises
Shane
The abandoned tire factory in Hunter’s Point reeks of old rubber and the sharp bite of motor oil, the lingering stench, thick and cloying. I can practically taste the ghosts of burned-out tires and machine grease, making me sick and wishing for a second that I skipped this ambush.
I hid my friendship with Garrett for years, and maybe that added to his bitterness toward me. For so long, I didn’t see him for his true self. Never realized he was a slimy bastard just like his father.
I follow close behind Connor, trying to keep my footsteps on the concrete floor quiet in the cavernous space. My brother and I move in sync with assassins at our back.
Garrett Donnelly stands near crates of weapons he stole, his hands restless at his sides. His eyes stay on the two Albanians dressed in cheap tracksuits. They don’t see us yet. They’re busy rifling through the crates.
Arrogant pricks.
“Looks good,” one of them says in a thick accent. “You deliver the rest right to our armory next time.”
“You got it,” Garrett says, looking smug once he believes the transaction is successful.
I freeze and grip Connor’s jacket. Whispering, I say, “Donnelly Jr. knows where their armory is?”
“We have to shut this down right now,” Connor clips through gritted teeth, drawing his weapon, and clicking the hammer.
Garrett spins around, the bastard going stiff with awareness. “Connor?”
With Rhys, Blade, and Jett pointing Irish military-style rifles at the two Albanians, Connor hisses, “Don’t fuckingmove. Any of you, or your brains are wallpaper.”
The Albanians curse under their breath in their grating language because their crappy 22s lie several feet away. Taking in the look of bloodlust in my brother’s eyes, they wisely obey.
Garrett knows how this ends. We’ve been involved in mob activity our entire adult lives. Seen some really bad stuff. Heknowswhat the mob does to thieves and traitors because he’d been ordered to kill dozens of them for the O’Rourkes back in the day.
“Sellingourweapons, Donnelly?” Connor aims his Glock at Garrett’s head, his voice a low growl. “Have you lost your damn mind?”
Garrett raises his hands, his voice shaking. “This isn’t what it looks like. I needed extra cash to get out of a jam. I had no other way to get the money. My fucking sister wouldn’t help me.”
I freeze at the mention of Lennox, and fire rages under my veins. How dare he get his innocent sister involved in his fucking crooked dealings. Surely, the Albanian scumbags are trailing him and he just put her on their radar.
“Stop talking, Gar.” I step into the dim light, my face as hard as my holstered steel.
The Albanians stare agog, hands twitching for their guns.
“I wouldn’t do that,” I say. “We have more men surrounding this place. And I’ve jammed your cell phones.”
Ignoring me, I see one of the guys step back, ready to take his chances against five deadly Irishmen. One screams something in Albanian and the other lunges. Connor fires first, then Rhys. Two bullets. Two shots. Two heads. Their crimson blood sprays the crates. The bodies drop in sync, lifeless before they hit the ground.
Garrett stumbles back, his face pale. “Jesus Christ!”
Connor grabs Garrett by the collar, slamming him into the nearest crate, his head hitting with a hollow thud. “You’re lucky I don’t put a bullet in your skull right here, right now.”
“Connor, no.” My voice is steady, my emotions buried deep. “We need answers first. Bring him here.” I point to a stained sofa that I assume the Albanians are using to rape the women they traffic.
Fucking vile.
“No,” Connor quickly objects. “Someone else might show up. Donnelly, check to see if they’re wearing wires under those tracksuits.”
“They’re soaked in blood,” Garrett argues, holding his bruised face from Connor slamming him into the crates.
“Do you want a matching hole in your head like your friends here?” I counter bitterly.
Garrett strips the Albanians of their zip-up jackets and T-shirts but finds nothing. No wire and only one phone between them. We got lucky. Maybe these two are rogue, independent contractors, especially if they’re fucking withus. Families tend to make premeditated moves and aren’t usually this stupid.
“Rhys,” I call out to my cousin over my shoulder. “Get your guys to tie up Donnelly and put him in your trunk.”
