WHEN HE’D converted an oddly placed half bath into a pantry for the kitchen, Connor’d wondered if he’d been smart to put his gun safe there. Now, standing in the eerie green glow of the safe’s battery backup lights, he pondered if he shouldn’t have built in an entire armory instead.
Because he really could have used an AK-47 right about then.
The trembling in Forest’s body nearly broke Connor. The last thing he’d wanted was to leave the man, but shit had come to his door, and he was going to do his damned best to shove it right back out.
His arm was unwieldy, and not for the first time that day, he silently cursed Miki’s kill instinct. The light set above the keypad was barely bright enough for him to see the numbers, and Con quickly punched in the code, letting out an unexpected sigh of relief when the safe door clicked open. Unthinkingly, he reached in with his right hand and winced when he banged the cast against the edge of the safe.
“Okay, beat the shit out of Miki,” he muttered, grabbing his Glock with his left hand. Tucking the weapon into the back of his pants, he pulled out his spare piece, a Beretta his father’d given him. He slammed a load into the Beretta and headed back out.
Connor stopped long enough to grab his armored vest off its hook by the garage door. It was a short struggle to put it on, and when he glanced beneath the table, he was relieved to find Forest looking up at him, his lover’s phone shining over his pale face.
“They coming?” he asked.
“Yeah, they told me to stay on the line,” Forest murmured. “She also said to tell you not to do anything stupid.”
The sound of more glass breaking reached the kitchen, and Connor growled back, “I’m not the one doing something stupid. Get into the pantry and close the door.”
“I’m not leaving you out here,” he argued.
Of course Forest would argue. Connor’d learned quickly the man gave in only when it suited him. Apparently, the situation didn’t suit him.
“I’d rather you get into the bathroom and get into the tub, but it’s too far. They’re already in the house.” He didn’t need much light to see Forest’s stubborn scowl. There wasn’t a lot of time, and Connor didn’t want to waste it arguing. He had to find the men breaking into his house, and he couldn’t do that while worrying if Forest was safe. Pulling a trick out of Brigid’s guilt bag, he asked softly, “Please?”
“Fucker,” Forest grumbled as he scrambled into the pantry, then closed the door behind him.
“Lock it from inside. And don’t come out for anyone but me. Tell dispatch I’m armed.” Connor pressed his hand against the narrow wall between the pantry door and interior hall. Casting his eyes up quickly, he beseeched, “Keep him safe for me, God. That’s all I’m asking in this.”
Rollins’s actions didn’t make any sense. Revenge? Killing Forest wouldn’t gain him anything. Not any more than killing Marshall had. There had to be something else there—something broken inside the man that somehow gave the whole mess perspective.
At that moment, he couldn’t care about motive. Hell, Connor barely had the patience to hunt down the men coming for his lover. The only reason he didn’t grab Forest and beat a path to the door was he couldn’t be sure there wasn’t someone else waiting outside to mow them down. At least in the house, he had the advantage. He knew every turn and hallway in the Victorian, as well as the areas he hadn’t quite gotten to—like the living room with its creaky joists and iffy floorboards.
He’d thought about going into the garage to fetch the flashlight for Forest, but he didn’t know if the pantry door sat flush to the floor. A strip of light would draw someone to his presence. No, Con thought, better he stay as much in the dark as possible.
Reaching the foyer, Connor was thankful for the soft ambient glow coming through the half-moon window above the heavy front door. Keeping his back to the wall, he let the shadows cover him, then called out to the rest of the house.
The interior of the Victorian was still a warren, a Z of a hallway with rooms connected to one another with nested doors. There’d been a plan to open up the space, eliminating as many of the jogs as possible, but for now, they served as a baffle. There’d be bottles of whiskey sent to his brothers for being too busy for serious wall demolition.
“Rollins? That you?” His voice bounced, echoing around the enclosed space. “Tell me you brought more than one guy to take me out!”