Page 23 of Crooked Crows (Boys of Briar Hall 1)

“Fine.”

Rook went into the house first, and Grey and I followed, double checking the yards and area for anyone who might see.

All clear.

Even if the nameSaintwas enough to ensure we wouldn’t be bothered, at least on our own turf, I liked the added layer of security. The residents of Thorn Valley may not go to the cops, but a few had tried blackmail in the past. Didn’t work out for them the way they hoped, but I’d rather not deal with that shit.

“No!” came a shout inside the house, and my jaw locked tight as I followed Grey inside and shut the door behind us, flicking off the lights.

“Rook,” I hissed, following the sounds of struggle through the kitchen. “Too fucking loud.”

A second cry was abruptly cut off with anoofof breath, and I heard Rook breathing in through his nose like he was snorting a line. He liked the smell, he said. The smell of a man’s fear.

I had to admit, it was a favorite of mine as well. Almost as nice as the smell of a woman’s.

Rook dragged the guy into the kitchen before Grey and I could get any deeper into the house, his bulging biceps cutting off poor Frank’s air supply.

He struggled, his bloodshot brown eyes going wide as he took in the sight of Grey and me standing in his kitchen. Recognizing us masked faces from the last two times. Knowing what it meant that we’d returned.

The fucker doubled down his efforts to escape, tucking his chin to bite into Rook’s arm like a feral dog. He got free, rushing forward like he actually thought he could get through us. Stumbling on his drunk ass feet.

Rook’s blood spurted onto the tile floor, and he bared his teeth, rushing forward after Frank.

What a goddamn mess.

I shoved Frank back as he ducked in an attempt to slide through Grey and me and the fucker ping ponged off of Rook and then the kitchen fridge, making it pop open.

Rook got a hold on him again, but the damage was done.

Grey stared at the bare refrigerator, his eyes glinting venomously in the blue tinted light as he took in the empty shelves. Two slices of processed cheese and six beers.

Nothing else.

“Grey…”

His fists clenched.

Rook licked his lips.

“There he is,” Rook whispered with excitement, his tongue sliding over his teeth as he took in Grey and held Frank steady for him.

My youngest brother shook as he turned his fury on Frank, and I stood watch as Rook shoved the asshole forward, giving Grey his turn.

Thecrackof his fist against the bastard’s cheekbone was sweeter than any music I could create.

Grey hit him againand again,mute, his face a mask of stoic calm with only the barest glint of rage. He didn’t stop until Frank was unconscious and lying in a puddle of his own blood on the floor.

“How hard is it to buy a loaf of fucking bread, you piece of shit,” he seethed, getting one more good kick in before he began to settle, his shoulders dropping as the rage went out of him. He wiped the sweat from his upper lip, panting, and Rook stared down at Frank with glee.

There was a difference between inflicting pain for business—on orders from Diesel—and doing it for pleasure. This?

This wasall fucking pleasure.For all of us.

“You finished?” I asked Grey with a raised brow. If he’d killed him, we’d need to find another asshole for Rook to play with. Luckily, he was just knocked out. Fucker would have one mean ass headache when he woke up. But not for long...

“Yeah,” Grey said on a breath, slamming the empty fridge closed and rolling his shoulders back, a calmness stealing over his features.

“Good. Go find the bleach. You’re cleaning that shit.”

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