Fuckin’ A, it was good to see the man healthy and standing on his own two feet again—even if one of them was prosthetic. Shane and Marz had talked from time to time, but before their reunion two days ago, the last time Shane had seen him was in the rehab unit of a hospital. Of all the survivors of the ambush that had revealed their commander’s dirty little secret, Marz’s injuries had been the most catastrophic. He’d lost part of a leg to a grenade, and Shane and Nick had worked together, despite Nick’s own gunshot wounds to his back, to staunch the bleeding and keep him alive. Where the rest of them could be moody bastards, Marz was and always had been one happy, optimistic fucker. Drove them all batshit sometimes. But absolutely nothing got the guy down—at least not for long. The rest of them could learn a thing or two.
Shane scanned the brickwork closest to the street and found a new camera-and-light fixture already installed. “How many are you putting up?”
“All the way around the building,” Nick said. “Street front’s done. Just need to do two more points in the back.”
“Okay, hand it up,” Jeremy called. Nick grabbed the unit out of the box and climbed the ladder high enough to do the handoff. Marz put a steadying hand on the aluminum as he fed them the cable, then backed off as Nick neared the ground.
“We’re also installing a fence around the parking lot,” Nick said. “Jer’s got a client with a fencing company, so he called in a favor, and the guy will be by to install it this afternoon. Easy and Beckett went with him to help haul the materials.”
Shane nodded. “Shit, I wish I’d have known. They could’ve taken my truck.”
Nick thumbed over his shoulder with a smirk. “Way ahead of you.”
Frowning, Shane walked far enough to see that his big, black F150 was gone. He arched a brow at Nick.
“Don’t give me that look. You would’ve offered. We just skipped a step.” The guy’s smile was tentative, like he was testing the waters and knew they might be infested with sharks.
“Sons o’ bitches,” Shane groused. But Nick was right. He wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t willing to do anything to help figure this situation out. And security had to be a part of that. “Fine. They scratch it all up, though, and I’m taking it out on your hide.”
Nick’s smile turned indulgent, and he nodded. “Well, you can try.”
The drill let out an unhappy, high-pitched whine, and Jeremy cursed, drawing Shane’s gaze. Shane let go of the retort sitting on the tip of his tongue as an idea parked itself in his frontal lobe. “You know, while we’re at it, we should consider a few remote cameras on the approaches to this building. Give us a way to see what might be coming at us before it gets here. Saw a few places on my run that’d be perfect.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Marz said. “Tell me where you want ’em, and I’ll make it happen.”
“I wish I could say this was all overkill,” Shane said. But after last night, when they’d raided two locations of Baltimore’s most notorious gang, stolen back Charlie, and engaged in gunfights with Jimmy Church’s men, the shit was on, and it was deep. And it wasn’t like they could go to the authorities, not after they’d found solid evidence that Church had the cops in his pocket. So, their enemies were highly sophisticated, apparently numerous, and not fully known—a trifecta of luck so bad that if it were raining pussy, they’d have gotten hit with a big dick. So, yeah, these precautions were right on the money.
Nick’s gaze narrowed and went distant for a moment, then he nodded. “You and me both. But we’ve still got more questions than answers at this point, and too much at stake to take any chances.”
It went without saying that Becca Merritt had to be on Nick’s mind. Three days ago, her house had been ransacked and someone had tried to snatch her from her workplace at University Hospital, so she was living here while this situation got resolved. But something told Shane she’d be staying at Hard Ink even once everything was said and done. Any man with two eyes and half a brain could see that the search for Becca’s brother had forged a tight bond between her and Nick. The kind that had a decent shot of lasting forever.
Shane totally got it. Because Becca had proven herself again and again in the short time he’d known her. By staying strong. By pitching in. By putting herself in harm’s way to help their mission.
And by being the first person to ever apologize for the fubar that had stripped them of their careers, their uniforms, their honor.
Given all she’d done, Shane was as committed to her safety as Nick. Especially because whoever had wanted their commander’s children so badly wasn’t going to give up. Someone believed Charlie and Becca had knowledge of their father’s black ops in Afghanistan, and no doubt they’d keep coming until they got what they wanted. Or died trying.
“How’s the shoulder?” Marz asked, as Jeremy made his way down the ladder.
“Eh. I’ll live.” Shane shrugged. “How’s the leg?” He grinned. Marz had taken three gunshots in last night’s firefight, all of them miraculously shooting through the bottom half of his right pant leg, the one that was mostly empty save for the metal rod of his prosthesis.
Marz barked out a laugh. “Good as new, baby.”
Jeremy climbed down the ladder, shaking his head. “You guys are a little twisted.”
“Says the guy wearing a T-shirt with a log-holding beaver asking, ‘Are you looking at my wood?’” Shane said. Jeremy had a whole collection of dirty and irreverent shirts, apparently.
Everyone chuckled.
“Hey, I never said I had a problem with twisted.” Jeremy hefted the ladder and moved it to the next position.
Everyone halted as a three-legged puppy came bounding down the driveway.
“Speaking of twisted,” Shane said, earning a few more chuckles. Becca had rescued the German shepherd from scavenging the hospital trash cans a few days before, and now the cute mutt with a pair of inordinately huge ears had everyone wrapped around her oversized paws.
“Dude, no making fun of Eileen,” Marz said, scooping her lanky black-and-tan body into his arms. Their shared missing-leg status had created a huge soft spot in the man’s heart for the puppy.
“Who, me?” Shane reached over and gave her silky ears a quick stroke. “Besides, how could I possibly make fun of a three-legged puppy with cartoonish ears named Eileen?”
“Last night you claimed credit for the name,” Nick said. “Even though I was the one who sang Becca the song.”
“Don’t remind me. The memory of you down on your knees singing eighties anthems is burned into my brain forever. Besides, you’re just mad that Becca liked my name best.”
The smirk on Nick’s face made it clear he was gearing up for a juicy retort, but just then, Becca rounded the corner from the back of the building. The woman was all-American-girl pretty, with blond hair, blue eyes, and a warm, bright smile. “You guys aren’t making fun of Eileen, are you?” A chorus of negatives rang out, and Becca rolled her eyes. “You totally were. You’re going to give her a complex.” She nuzzled the puppy in Marz’s arms. “It’s okay, pretty girl. Don’t listen to them.”
“You know I wasn’t doing anything but loving her. These guys, though . . .” Marz shrugged.
“Hey, don’t throw me under the bus. I didn’t say a word,” Jeremy said, leaning the ladder back against the building. “It was these assholes.” He pointed at Shane and Nick.
Shane had a defense on the tip of his tongue, but Becca turned her feigned outrage on Nick. “How could you?”
Nick nailed his brother with a glare as he stepped right into Becca’s space. “I didn’t say a damn thing, sunshine. Promise.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, trying to hold back a grin as Nick kissed her cheek.