Leaving his brothers to deal with the meathead and the mess of students – a man couldn’t ask for two better diplomats than those two – he took off at a sprint toward the flapping back door. His bad shoulder was screaming, but he shoved the pain down. He had to get hold of Greg this time; in his mind there was no alternative.
Prior to burning and abandonment, Hamilton House must have had a lush backyard. Mansions had pretty gardens, right? Whatever it had once been, it was now a tangle of brambles, withered vines, and dilapidated fence pickets, all of it weaving into the surrounding forest at its rough edges. And because of its thickness, it made it damn hard to flee on foot with any speed.
Greg was just ahead of him, crashing through the underbrush, hampered by those short legs of his, obvious as all hell, even in the dark.
Aidan leapt over a knot of bushes, vaulted across half of a ruined fence, and caught his prey in a matter of strides. Greg was dressed all in black, same as him, but he was breathing like a winded horse, and Aidan could have grabbed him with his eyes closed. As it was, he executed an NFL-worthy tackle that jarred the ever loving shit out of his shoulder, and rolled with Greg caught tight in his arms, ending up on top of the guy, a knee pressed into the small of his back, pinning him fast to the ground.
Greg let out a squall like a cat that’s been grabbed by the tail, and Aidan bore down on him hard, feeling the slight give of the guy’s ribs spreading beneath his kneecap.
His prey secure, Aidan took a moment to draw in a deep breath, reflect on his winded state, and curse himself for not working enough cardio into his exercise routine. He’d never really recovered after his accident, had he? And all those little twinges and hurts were only going to worsen with time.
He gulped more air and said, “You know what makes me real mad, Greg? The fact that you had the balls to come back up here tonight. You finally chose to grow a pair, huh?”
Greg wriggled to no avail and turned his head, so moonlight flitted through the branches overhead and speckled the side of his face with white. His voice was muffled by leaf litter, but still discernable. “I’m not acting alone, Aidan.” He let out a short, harsh laugh. “I’m a follower, not a leader, remember? Same as you.”
The words pricked him, little needlepoints against his skin.
He put a hand to the back of Greg’s neck and ground his cheek down into the dirt. “”How’d you get hooked up with Ellison?”
“Who said anything about him?” But Greg stiffened all over, which meant, yes, he was one of Don’s little puppets now.
“He’d be the only one stupid enough to do any of this.” He allowed his grip to tighten and was rewarded by a quiet, reflexive sound of protest. “Did you kill Fisher yourself? The others?”
“No,” Greg said immediately. “You know I couldn’t…I’d never…”
“You’d never? Yeah, big principles you got there, Greggy.”
A burst of violence moved through his chest, a hot flush of aggression. He wasn’t Merc, wasn’t Michael, wasn’t even his father, for whom killing was a necessary part of life’s equation. He’d never felt its dangerous pull before; had never been tempted, even when those had been his orders. Pity and conscience had saved Greg that night, almost three years ago. But now Aidan was flooded with the urge. The hideous knowledge blossomed in his mind: you didn’t kill a man for sport; you did it because it had to be done, and sooner was better than later.
His hand tightened, tightened…
Greg gasped. “You won’t do it now,” he wheezed. “You couldn’t do it before.”
Wanna bet?he thought.
But instead, he eased his grip. “Why are you working for Ellison?”
Another choked laugh. “You’ll be working for him before this is all over.”
“What the hell’s that s’posed to mean, jackass?”
“Aidan!” Tango’s voice floated to them, from back at the house. “You alright? Cops are here.”
For the first time ever, those words didn’t send a jolt of fear through him. Fielding was here on their call this time.
Greg, though, clenched up all over with a quick, audible breath. “If I disappear,” he said carefully, laughter gone from his voice, “Ellison will come looking for me, and he’ll step up his game.”
“Oh yeah? What’s he gonna do?” But Aidan knew what would happen – more violence, and at this point, there were no more dealers to knock off, which meant members and their families would be targeted.
Neither of them answered the question.
“Aidan?” Tango called again, and this time there were footfalls, crunching through the dead foliage.
“Meet me tomorrow,” Greg said, “if you wanna talk. Noon, at Smokey’s.”
Aidan hesitated, listening to Tango’s light steps come closer, closer. He heard an indignant shout back toward the house, Fielding barking orders to the other responding officers.
What did he do? He was frozen, for a handful of seconds. Here he had Greg in his grasp and at his mercy. All it would take were a few movements, and he could snap the guy’s neck, cover him over with leaves, and no one ever had to know about his mistake. Ghost would never have to find out that he’d disobeyed orders.
