DOM: Alliance Series Book Three (96)

The yards are all surrounded by tall but rickety fencing, so it doesn’t take much for my guys to silently remove a few boards, letting us walk into the target backyard.

I left my jacket in the car—for dexterity—but there wasn’t time to change into tactical gear. So I’m walking through knee-high dead grass in my fucking suit.

But we don’t need tactical because there are twenty of us and only two of them.

Twenty is overkill, but half of them will stay outside as backup and cover. And the ten of us entering will break off, half through the front door and half through the back door.

Our second-best lockpick goes around to the front, and I step up to the back.

It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to use this particular skill, but no one does it better. And in a matter of seconds, I have the deadbolt sliding free.

Staying radio silent, the men surrounding the house signal to each other when both doors are unlocked.

And we enter as one.

Adrenaline and anger flare through my system. And I inhale it, filling my lungs with the power I feel as the first man through the door.

Our guns are drawn, silencers on—our goal is to keep this quiet.

The back door opens into the kitchen. It’s small. The lights are off, but a glow comes from the living room off to my right, and it’s enough to show me there’s no place for a man to hide in here.

The TV is on, playing a football game, and the noise is enough to cover the small sounds our shoes make on the linoleum floor. But the front door leads directly into the living room, so my five turn the other way, down the short hall, letting the front crew take care of the man in the living room.

Half a shout reaches us, but it’s muffled before it finishes. And with the game on, it just sounds like someone yelling at the TV, not someone getting grabbed by five men dressed in black.

There are two open doors—dark bedrooms beyond—and one closed door with light and steam coming through the gap between the floor and the bottom of the cheap door.

My mouth pulls into a grin.

He’s in the shower.

I move my gun into my left hand and slip my right hand into my pocket.

Threading my fingers through the perfectly sized holes, I slide my brass knuckles into place.

It’s been too long.

Careful not to click the metal against the door handle, I turn the knob slowly and push the door open even slower, eliciting no sound.

Two of my men break off to check the bedrooms, and another stays in the hallway, but Rob follows me into the tiny bathroom.

The shower is small. A corner stall with a wavy yellow-tinged fake glass door.

Perfect.

My fist flexes, my grip tightening around the thick black metal.

And then I move.

In two strides, I’m at the shower. The man behind the cloudy door turns, putting his back to the spray, and he sees me, sees the movement.

But it’s too late.

Using my momentum, I throw my fist forward through the thin door, sending shards of plastic in every direction.

My punch carries on, my body turning with it, until my reinforced knuckles meet with the man’s chest.

My forward motion was slowed by the door, so I don’t hit him with my full force, but it’s enough to stun him, to take him out of the fight before it even starts.

Rob reaches past me into the shower and yanks the target forward by the arm, causing the naked man to stumble through the broken doorframe.

Shower guy is still trying to catch his breath from the hit to his solar plexus, so he’s not screaming, but he does try to take a swing at Rob.

Except I’m behind him now. And with an open hand, I shove his head to the side. Hard. Into the mirrored medicine cabinet.

The whole thing caves in, shattered glass cutting into the flesh of his face.

He does scream now. But it’s too late. No one is coming to save him.





CHAPTER 63





Val





I let the steam swirl around me as I stand under the powerful shower spray, washing away the feelings from earlier and hoping Dominic is being safe.





CHAPTER 64





Dom





With my right hand in a fist, I tap the underside of my wedding ring on the raised metal.

The metallic clink marks my approach as I take the final step into the shitty house’s basement.

It’s unfinished. Just a bare concrete floor with empty shelves along one side of the room. And just like the neighborhood, it’s perfect for our needs.

My pace is slow as I near the man from the shower.

I stop two feet in front of him. “Who sent you?”

The man arches his head back like he might try to spit on me, but the arm around his neck tightens.

Hard to spit when you can’t breathe.

Instead of dealing with ropes and tape and shit like that, we just use manpower.

One of my guys stands behind the captive, his arm around the man’s neck and his other hand on the back of the man’s head. Quickest way to subdue the captive as needed. Then I have two more men, one on either side of the captive. Their arms are hooked around the man’s elbows, immobilizing his arms, and their feet are on either side of his, keeping the man standing exactly where we put him.

I turn my head to look at the man from the living room, three more of my men holding him in the same way.