Delilah struggled in frustration. “No way, arsehole! I’ll be dead before I defer to you.”
Hyland glared down at her. “That can be arranged as well,” he said with a smile. “But only after I’ve used you first, and after all of this trouble, I’ve changed my mind. I have to know what all the fascination is about. First Morley, then Lauper, and now Dalton—what is so alluring about you, Delilah?” He chuckled. “I intend to find out.”
“Take your hands off her.” Dalton managed to growl the words, despite the unrelenting banging in his head. He couldn’t bear to see that scumbag Hyland touching his beautiful Delilah, and despite her bravado, he could sense how much he intimidated her.
“I don’t think so,” Hyland concluded after a few seconds. “In fact, I think I’m going to put my hands all over her.” His brow rose with the verdict, and Dalton was forced to watch as Hyland peeled down Delilah’s straps, easing the lacy bra cups down to reveal her fabulous breasts.
“Get off me!” She was really fighting now, trying to stomp on Hyland’s feet as she concentrated on getting free, but it was useless. With her hands bound, she was helpless to prevent him.
Delilah’s plan had backfired on her in the worst possible way.
Dalton! She shot the panicky thought in his direction. Dalton, please help!
But he couldn’t help. Woozy and cuffed as he was, there was nothing he could do.
Nothing except witness her utter denigration at the hands of his most narcissistic enemy.
Hyland reached around her chest and squeezed her breasts. “Wonderful. Now, why is Connor still here? I thought I asked for him to be dismissed?”
“Move.” The white suit shoved the barrel of his weapon into Connor’s side. “Unless you want to be pumped full of lead?”
“What about this one?” It was one of the other men talking now, and he wandered toward Dalton as he asked the question.
“Ah, yes, Dalton.” Hyland smiled. “Much though I’d love you to stick around and enjoy the fun, you’re in no fit state.” He turned toward the guy wielding the gun behind Dalton. “Take him to one of the holding cells. I need a little time with the girls.”
“No!” It was Molly who screeched the protest, but Dalton heard the same thought from Delilah’s head as well.
“I’ve had about enough of this shit.” Connor barged past the white suit. “You’re not going to shoot me. None of you have the balls, now give me Molly, and we’ll talk.”
Hyland laughed, and as Dalton lifted his chin to look at the slimy bastard, he noticed Hyland gesturing in the direction of the gun-carrying white suit again.
“No.” It was his turn to call out—he could already see what was going to happen. Staggering from the chair, Dalton intended to put himself in the way of the gun, but his knees folded before he even reached it. He fell to his hands and knees, glancing up as time protracted.
It was all crumbling right in front of his eyes, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
No way he could save his little brother.
That sickening thought resonated in his head just before the sound of a gunshot.
Chapter Twenty-One
Saul Morrison
Saul should have known right from the very beginning. In those early days—when he’d first met Dalton, when they’d taken Connor to martial arts training together, watching him veering into the darkness, and when their parents had unceremoniously flung themselves from Beachy Head—he should have known then how much trouble the Reillys would be.
And he had known, he supposed—in his heart, at least—but he made the same concessions for Dalton and Connor, other people made for their family because to Saul, that’s what they were. He’d never had much in the way of a real family, and the Reillys became his brothers long before The Syndicate was truly conceived.
That was why he was there that day, gun in hand, with all the available men he could muster. And that was why he’d be there every day—any day they needed him.
He was breaking all the rules.
All the edicts he’d set down in his mind about how his organization operated. About how he’d kept his rival at a respectful distance, how they’d tried to dance around each other’s territories, and how they would never, under any circumstances, go all guns blazing into the other’s headquarters. Yet as he stepped out into the gray, London light, none of that crap mattered.
This was about family.
Hyland had taken Dalton, and Connor, in his infinite wisdom, was in there somewhere, too, no doubt kicking the hornet’s nest. It was too late for laws and wisdom. This was the time for action.
Time to bring Hyland down.
At least thirty of them descended in six cars, men swarming like ants crawling into a feeding hole as they entered the Hyland building. They were armed to the hilt, meeting Kenny and Wallace at a rendezvous point beforehand to acquire the additional arsenal.
They were ready and briefed about the situation so far.
Taking out the men on the ground floor had been pitifully easy. If that was what passed for security in Hyland’s world, then God help him. Saul instructed a few of his team to remain while the others headed north. Most went on foot, covering the stairwells and leaking onto the numerous floors layered between the ground and Hyland’s lair. If Saul was forced to do this thing, he would bloody well do it properly. There would be no coming back for Hyland after this—no regrouping and plotting revenge. The Syndicate intended to take out as many of them as it could and end the London turf war. It had been raging too long, tainting the otherwise seamless work of Saul’s organization.
This was the end.
The rest of his men stayed with Saul and headed up in the elevator. He glanced around at those beside him, the best he had, aside from Dalton and Connor. Manuel gave him a small smile as they reached the sixth floor.
“Ready to do this, old friend?”
“More than.” Saul nodded as he reloaded his handgun. His jaw tightened. It wasn’t what he’d wanted or how he would have planned it, but c’est la vie.
This was how it was.
“Shoot to kill. Just remember, our guys are in there, and the bastard has Molly and Delilah holed up somewhere.”
Manuel sighed, no doubt, thinking the same as Saul. Hyland had crossed a line when he’d abducted the women. It was something Saul had never even entertained before.
The first of their number was out of the doors before they had even fully slid open. The dark hallway which met them was as empty as it was depressing. There was no welcoming party, so clearly, no one downstairs had time to call for help before they were felled.
That was a bonus.
“Steady,” he whispered the word as they all fell into position outside the large double doors, which presumably led to Hyland’s office. “On my mark.”
That’s when it happened.
Right at the moment, he was about to press Go, the sound of a gunshot rang out from inside the room, sending his blood cold. Saul knew neither of his men was armed. Kenny had reiterated Connor and Delilah’s ridiculous plan before they departed, and they hadn’t taken any weapons. So, unless they’d managed to wrestle one from Hyland’s men, that meant it was the rival gang who’s just opened fire.
“Shit.”
Manuel glanced back at him with wide eyes, his gaze conveying the same sentiment.
“Connor!” It was Molly’s voice that burst through the tension, her distress unmistakable. “Oh God, Connor!”
“I told you.” That was a voice Saul didn’t know. “I told you to fucking go.”
“That’s enough.” Finally, the tremor of Hyland’s tone emanated through the wooden barrier which separated them. “He’s down, but no one needs to die today. At least, not in my office. Help him out.”
Saul’s brow furrowed into a grimace. One of those fuckers had shot Connor—they’d fucking shot Connor Reilly. The guy might be an arrogant prick a lot of the time, but he was also a friend, a good friend and the little br
other Saul never had. An uncontrollable wave of rage pulsed through him.
“Get in there,” he commanded through gritted teeth. “He’s wrong. Someone will die today.”
Wilkinson was the first through the door, covered by Manuel and two others. Saul hung back for a moment, watching the elevator behind him as though he expected it to reveal a horde of angry opponents at any moment. When the doors didn’t open, he made his way into the room, surveying the battle with as much excitement as fortitude.
“What’s this?” Hyland’s words were a growl, distracting Saul from the very public display he was making of Delilah. “A party?”
“A funeral more like.” Saul kicked the door closed behind him, taking in the whole sorry scene. His men had surrounded Hyland’s with ease, their weapons pointed to various temples, the opposing guns already kicked away to a safe distance, but it was the state of his friends which concerned him. Not only was Delilah in obvious angst, caught as she was in Hyland’s ugly hands, but Molly was cowering in a cage at the far side of the room. Saul’s gaze absorbed the remainder of the scene.
“Dalton?”
Dalton was on his hands and knees just beyond the place Saul stood. He moved toward his old friend, keeping his weapon trained on Hyland. Unfortunately, in the short-term, that meant targeting Delilah as well since Hyland was effectively using her as a human shield.
Dalton lifted his head. “Forget about me.” He sounded pained. “Connor. They shot Connor.”
“Oh God!” Molly whimpered from her cage.
Saul’s gaze flitted past the throng of Hyland’s men, now being forced to their knees, to Connor. Leaning against the wall, he winced, clutching his leg. “I’m okay,” he grimaced. “It was just a shot to the knee. Nothing vital.”
Relief coursed through Saul’s veins. “Manuel, cover the arsehole while I check him out.”
Manuel nodded. “With pleasure.”
Saul watched while Manuel stalked in Hyland’s direction, waving his automatic weapon in front of his forehead.
“Let the girl go, Zander. I won’t ask nicely twice.”
Zander exhaled, his attention turning to Connor. “You’re losing too much blood.”
The body fluid was seeping from his trousers and pooling on the floor below them.
“I’m fine,” Connor scowled, but it was clear that was bullshit.
“He’s not.” Dalton climbed gingerly to his feet. “He’s fucking not okay.”
“I know. That needs pressure, and we need to get him out of here.” Saul threw his weapon to Dalton. “Cover me.”
Dalton grasped the gun, massaging the trigger as he staggered toward Delilah. “You heard the man.”
Hyland now had two guns targeted at him.
“Let her go, you prick.”
“I don’t think I will.”
Saul glanced across in time to see Hyland’s smile.
“I don’t think you’re going to risk shooting me with the whore in my hands.”
Saul inhaled, fighting the urge to march over there and resolve the Hyland problem personally. In all the years they’d competed for the city, the two men had rarely met and never interacted, yet Hyland was every bit as egotistical as Saul had imagined. Perhaps he was that way, too? Maybe all leaders were, but he hoped he didn’t treat women the same way Hyland did.
Unfastening his shirt, he stretched it around Connor’s leg, tightening it as much as he could to provide a makeshift tourniquet.
“Keep the pressure on it,” he told him as he reached for his phone. Dialing the number for Kenny, he waited for the call to connect. “We need immediate evac. Connor has been shot.” He lifted his head toward Manuel and Dalton, ending the call. “He’ll be outside in two. We all need to get out before the cops start arriving.”
“We’re not leaving without the ladies.” Dalton’s tone was resolute, but Saul could hear the pain in it. Based on the state of his face, it was clear he’d been badly hurt again—more of Hyland’s handiwork.
“Of course not. Search the place for the keys. They must be in here somewhere.”
“They’re in his trouser pocket.” Molly piped up. “I saw him slip it there earlier.”
Saul glanced back to Hyland. “Gonna give me that key, or do you want me to go searching down there, big boy?”
“You fucking wish. There’s no way.”
“Let me help.” Delilah hissed the words seconds before she struck.
To Saul, it happened in a flash, but later, he worked out precisely what she had done. Skipping forward, Delilah slammed her bound hands back into Hyland’s groin, bringing the idiot crashing to his knees in agony. She danced past Manuel, who pulled the jacket back over her body before he grinned at her approvingly.
“Fucking bitch.”
Hyland was winded as he pushed the words out, but it gave Dalton the chance he needed, even in his weakened state. Lifting his gun above Hyland’s head, he brought it crashing down on his enemy’s forehead, knocking the bastard out. By the time Saul had caught his breath, Manuel had helped Delilah out of the ropes, and she ran into Dalton’s arms.
“Oh God, I was so worried about you.”
“Shhh, I’m fine.” He winced as she embraced him.
Delilah gazed up at him. “You sure as hell don’t look fine.”
“The key!” Connor panted, clutching his knee. “Can someone find the bloody key?”
Delilah wandered back to the unconscious body of her captor and rolled Hyland over, searching his pockets for the key.
“He always kept it on him.” She rolled her eyes. “Fucking bastard.”
She nodded as she found what she was looking for, pulling the object from his pocket. Manuel was already poised to receive it, and time seemed to stand still as Molly was finally liberated from her prison.
“Tie those fuckers up.” Saul collected the ropes which had previously held Delilah and flung them at Wilkinson and the others. “Dalton, Delilah, Molly, you get Connor down to the car. Take guns. There could be some we missed lurking in the hallways.”
“I’ll come with you,” Manuel offered, collecting one of the discarded weapons. “You’ll need me if you encounter someone, and I’ll make the call for everyone else to get the fuck out.”
His friend was correct. It was time to leave.
He watched as they left, Dalton and Molly propping up Connor, though they had scarcely come to terms with their own predicaments. Delilah glanced back over her shoulder before she left the room.
“Thank you, Saul.”
He offered her a weary smile, watching Wilkinson secure the last of Hyland’s men—an idiot in an odd choice of suit.
“We’ll catch up later,” he assured her wearily. “For now, just get out and stay safe.”
She nodded, running to catch up with Dalton and leaving Saul towering over the body of Zander Hyland.
It was time to put this rivalry to bed.
Forever.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Delilah
Two weeks later
“How is he?”
It was the first question from Delilah’s lips when Dalton returned from visiting Connor. His brother had spent a few days in the hospital after the Hyland incident, but like Dalton, he’d refused to stay. It had taken Saul even longer to iron things out with all the various local and national authorities. Even in the center of London, gunfights were pretty unusual, and when the police finally responded, they must have walked into something from a Tarantino movie. She shivered at the thought, pleased, in the end, she hadn’t had to deal with the chaos, though there was still a part of Delilah that would have liked to be the one to finish Hyland—a sick, sadistic part she’d have liked to deny, but a real part, nonetheless.
Not that Saul would confirm what fate had actually befallen the arrogant bastard—no matter how much she’d pushed him.
“Frustrated and irritated.” Dalton smiled, moving in her direction as he sent the door closing behind him. They were back in the sanctuar
y of Dalton’s room—the place Delilah now called home.
“So, much more like himself, then?”
Dalton snorted. “Yep, classic Connor.”
“Will his knee be okay?”
Dalton took her in his arms. “They removed the bullet during the surgery, so hopefully, yes, with physio, he should get there. Not that he won’t be a nightmare in the meantime. Poor Molly…”
She smiled into his chest, breathing in that sexy, reassuring earthy scent of her man.
“She wouldn’t have it any other way, I’m sure. We all came pretty close to losing each other for a while.”
Perilously close, actually.
Dalton’s hand shifted into her hair. You’re right.
Delilah gazed up at him. “Will I ever get used to the fact we can hear each other’s thoughts?”
“One day. Maybe.”
She snorted. “I guess it’s nice in some ways. Comforting, but it’s a little perturbing as well.”
“I understand that.” He kissed the top of her head. “How about a glass of wine before I take you to bed?”
Now, that sounded more like it.
“Yes, please, sir.” She flashed him a provocative smile.
Wandering into the kitchen area, he selected a bottle of red without consultation, and her grin widened. Delilah loved the way Dalton took charge, but more than that, she relished the way it made her feel—she wanted him to lead, and when he did, it was the most incredible feeling.
Finally, she had someone she trusted—someone she loved.
“You should be undressed and waiting for me in the appropriate way, young lady.”
Delilah bit her lip. She loved the way he made that sound—so wrong and so naughty like he was her class professor, and she was about to be turned over his knee for not completing her coursework. Her pussy clenched at the enticing fantasy.
“You might very well be turned over my knee if you don’t do as you’re told.”
Tested: The Dark Necessities—Dalton's Tale #3 Page 14