Brendan (The Doherty Mafia Book 4) by Kasey Krane (psychology books to read txt) 📕

“The only way Aldo is giving Davey back is if we force him to. He’s not going to do it out of the goodness of his heart,” I growled.

“And we will find a way to force him.”

“Yeah, by burning down every last piece of everything he owns.”

“You’ve been advocating for weeks about trying to make peace with Aldo. You didn’t want this war to affect our business,” Tristian tried.

I screeched the car to a halt right outside the warehouse where the other Doherty vehicles had collected too. I turned to face my brother. I hoped he knew he had said something idiotic.

“That’s my son he has. He kidnapped my kid and I don’t know when he’s coming back. Do you understand what I’m saying? I don’t give a fuck about our family business while my son’s life is in danger.”

Tristian nodded, but I had already jumped out of the car.

I pulled my gun out and held it up in the air. While my brothers and the others waited for someone to give the order, I charged through the gates, heading straight for the warehouse.

A bunch of Baron men acted as security. They saw the cars parked outside, they saw me marching in. The alarms had already been raised. They trained their guns at me and I didn’t give a shit. I was ready to walk up to a firing squad if I had to.

I was the one who took the first shot. My brothers stormed up behind me, shooting their guns too. Within seconds, this had turned into a shoot out. The Baron men fought back, trying to defend their property. I felt something sharp and hot fire straight into my thigh. I felt it pierce skin. Bone? Was blood trickling down my leg?

I didn’t even have the time to look down. I didn’t even notice the pain while I fired back wildly.

Eventually, we got every last Baron man at that location. We had severely outnumbered them.

One of the guys got the can of fuel and started splashing it around. I watched Tristian shoot the locks that held the shutters down. They pulled it up, splashing fuel inside too. More cans of fuel appeared until everything looked soaked.

Within seconds, it was all going up in flames. They let me do the honors, so I was the one who threw in the match.

This was just the beginning. I hoped Aldo knew that I wasn’t going to stop.

Twenty-Seven

Rosalie

I’d lost track of time. I didn’t know how long it had been since Brendan left the apartment accompanied by all his brothers. He hadn’t given me a plan, he hadn’t given me a time and I didn’t know how to get in touch with him. So I didn’t know if they had Davey, if my son…our son…was safe or not.

I felt even more helpless now, even more lost. I just wished Brendan didn’t hate me as much as he did now. Maybe then he would have kept me informed on his activities.

I hadn’t told my mother yet about Davey’s kidnapping, and while I sat alone in the apartment, waiting to hear anything—I contemplated calling her.

The only thing Brendan had told me before he left was for me to not step out of the apartment, to not call or tell anybody what was going on, and to not answer the door to anybody other than him or his brothers.

It wasn’t like the cops had made any effort to contact me either.

I hadn’t heard from anyone in hours.

I just sat on the couch with a cup of coffee that had gone completely cold. Davey’s teddy bear was in my lap and I kept sniffing it to remind myself of how he smelled. I missed him. I hated myself for not being able to protect him. I hated myself for not trusting Brendan more.

Then finally, there was a knock on the door. I gasped before I ran over to open it. I’d forgotten about Brendan’s directive to check through the peephole first. But thankfully, it was him.

Brendan stood there in front of me and he looked like a man who had just walked through fire.

I stared at him in shock. His clothes looked black and almost charred. Clearly, he had been standing too close to a blaze. And it seemed like he was bleeding from his thigh.

“Brendan…” I whispered his name in horror. “Where is he? Where is our son?”

He shook his head and my heart stopped. I feared the worst.

“We don’t have him yet, but we’re getting close,” he replied, walking in.

I locked the door behind him, on the verge of breaking into tears again. I just wanted to see my son. I just wanted to be able to hold him again.

“I’m sorry, Rosalie. I’m trying. I’m doing everything I can to bring him back. I don’t know where he is but I’m going to find him. Do you trust me?” he asked.

I could see how broken he was. Broken…just like me.

I nodded. “Yes, I trust you. I know you’ll bring him back. He’s going to be fine,” I said.

I had no other choice but to believe it.

“Please, just sit down. Let me look at that leg, please,” I begged him.

As much as he tried to hide it, it was pretty obvious to me that Brendan was limping. It was a gunshot wound to the thigh.

Grumbling under his breath, he sat down on my couch, smearing his blood everywhere. I collected a first aid kit from the kitchen and brought it over.

“I don’t want you to fuss over me,” he growled. I wondered if he was hiding his pain and to what extent. How much pain could Brendan Doherty actually endure?

His leg looked pretty bad and if there was any chance to stop it from getting infected, he would need professional help.

“I’m not a professional, but I’m going to do the best I can,” I said, elevating his leg up