Mercy had his “toolkit” slung over one shoulder, the nondescript black bag that held his grisly assortment of knives, pliers, screwdrivers, nails, whatever household construction items he thought looked “fun” for the moment.
Michael looked…like Michael, only spookier, in all black with his mask doubled up on his forehead.
“How’d it go?” Aidan asked.
Rottie made a grim face. He fished a USB-equipped audio recorder from his sweatshirt pocket. “It was mostly just screaming, but he said some stuff. Who knows if it’s useful; I don’t think he knew much.”
“He’s worm food,” Mercy answered the unasked question. “And except for that one glitch, it went off well.”
“Glitch?” Tango asked.
“Sasquatch over here got shot.” Rottie hooked a thumb at Mercy. “While we were going over the fence at their clubhouse.”
“In the vest?” Aidan asked.
“The trap.” Mercy gestured to the base of his neck. “It nicked through; it’s fine.”
“Except who knows if the shooter got a good look at him,” Michael grumbled, heading for the bar.
“I was wearing a mask,” Mercy called to his back.
“Yeah? And how many six-five random B&E suspects do you think they see around there?” He pulled the Jack from under the bar, unscrewed the cap and took a slug straight off the bottle. It was probably as close to fuming mad as he was capable. “What did you tell me? I’d need your size? Your ‘size’ is gonna get you picked out of a police lineup.”
“It’s gonna get you pile-driven through this goddamn floor.”
“Hey, people get shot; it happens,” Tango said. “The important thing is everybody’s whole – you are, right?”
“Mags and Ava cleaned me up,” Mercy said, letting his bag slide off his shoulder onto one of the round bar tables. “I’m fine.”
“Jesus,” Aidan muttered. “Way to not traumatize my sister.”
Mercy’s eyes came over in a fast snap, narrowing. “She’s fine, too.”
“Kids,” Rottie said with a sigh. “If I wanted to deal with this kinda shit, I’d have stayed home tonight.”
That sobered all of them up; this wasn’t about any of them, not really. It was about keeping their families safe.
“Mina and the boys alright?” Tango asked.
Rottie nodded and eased down into a chair. “Yeah. They’ve been spending nights at Hound and Nell’s place, so he can keep an eye out while I’m…” He gestured vaguely.
“Yeah,” Tango said. “Collier’s been keeping Jackie close. James is king of his own castle these days.”
“And Littlejohn practically lives in Dad’s driveway,” Aidan put in.
That’s how the Carpathians had played things last time: going after the women and children.
Aidan held out a hand. “Here, let’s listen to it now. I wanna hear.”
Rottie lifted his brows. “Ghost will want to be here.”
“So he can listen when he shows up. I want it now.”
Rottie reached for the recorder, and Aidan’s phone rang.
Curious looks cast his way.
“Greg,” he said as he checked the screen. “He doesn’t know it yet, but he really wants to be a rat,” he told the others before he answered. “Yeah?”
