Unhinged (Necessary Evils #1)(71)

“I hate math,” Aiden muttered.

“And twenty separate crime scenes to clean up,” Noah reminded them.

“I’m just saying, killing three guys in one night would have been cool,” Avi pouted.

“But, instead, you get to kill twenty guys during the day, with your brothers, as a family,” August said.

“Other families just have barbeques,” Archer said, tone dripping with sarcasm.

That seemed to be his default setting. His unkempt hair and eye liner made him look like a pirate. A hot sarcastic, drunken pirate.

“Well, you’re in luck. In about thirty minutes, it’s going to smell a lot like barbeque,” August assured them.

That killed the conversation for a short time. Noah grew restless as each man parked their vehicles and filed into the old building to wait for Gary, who was still stashed in the back of Atticus’s trunk. Acid pooled in Noah’s stomach, his heart hammering in his ears.

When the last man arrived, Archer came over the speaker once more. “All targets are on site.”

Adam grinned at Noah. “It’s go time.”

Noah followed Adam from the bait shop to the windowless fish hatchery. They all had jobs to do. Noah was the lookout. Archer barricaded one of the two points of entry, the wooden double doors at the back of the building. Asa and Avi took the cans of gasoline, thoroughly saturating the wood and the surrounding ground. Adam dismantled the water line at the dock to ensure no stragglers had access to anything that might help put out the fire. Atticus was at the car, making sure Gary was where they’d left him, and August stood at the closed front doors of the building, holding a metal device in his hands. It was an iron locking mechanism, like something out of Game of Thrones. Noah supposed it was only appropriate. They were about to have their very own Red Wedding.

Aiden didn’t participate much. He stood beside Noah, arms crossed over his chest. He didn’t look like any of his photos. The clean cut boy was long gone, replaced by a man, who looked like he spent his nights sleeping on park benches but was somehow still cute even with his hand floating over the Glock at his side.

They were all armed. Though it was unlikely anyone would make it out, the wood was old and somebody might be able to kick a piece free.

August was just about to chain the door when Asa pulled a generic butane lighter from his pocket. He flicked the starter, but it sparked and then went out. Once. Twice. Half a dozen times.

“Oh, no. Take your time,” Aiden drolled. “It’s not like people won’t start to suspect something any minute now.”

Asa looked at the others sheepishly. “Um, anybody have any matches?”

“Jesus Christ. You have got to be kidding me,” Atticus hissed.

“Fuck this,” August muttered, freeing his phone from his pocket and pulling his com from his ear, replacing it with his earbuds.

“What’s he doing?” Noah asked, his pulse skyrocketing, watching as the others pulled their weapons free. “What the fuck is happening here?”

Adam grabbed his face and kissed him thoroughly. “You stay here. You shoot anybody you see who isn’t us. No hesitation.”

“What the fuck is happening?” Noah asked again.

August pulled two knives free from God knows where, twirling them in his hand like a carnival performer before kicking the door open like a SWAT team, all attendees turning on them, faces slack. Adam could only watch as the others followed suit, giving Noah one last look before closing the door on him.

August’s voice could be heard even through the wood panels. “Hello, gentlemen. I’m afraid your friend won’t be attending your meeting.”

That was when the screaming started.





By the time Adam pushed the doors back open, every muscle ached, his ears were ringing from the gunfire, and all seven of them were dripping in blood. Luckily, most of it wasn’t theirs. As suspected, none of those men managed to put up much of a fight. They were too busy trying to make sense of the situation. The few that were armed had been shaking so badly they hadn’t even had time to fire a shot. It was literally like shooting fish in a barrel. Or gutting fish in a barrel if you were August or the twins.

As soon as Noah saw them, he dropped the gun he had trained on the entrance and leapt into Adam’s arms like it was the end of a rom-com. Adam laughed as Noah clung to him, arms and legs encircling his body.

“I didn’t think you were ever coming out. I thought you were all dead,” he said as Adam set him back on his feet, gaze snagging on August, who was bobbing his head to a beat only he heard, eyes closed like he was attending Sunday morning service and he’d caught the Holy Spirit. “Well, maybe not August. But I thought the rest of you guys weren’t coming back. I didn’t know what to do. Do you have any idea how long you’ve been in there?”

Archer cocked a bloody brow. “Do you have any idea how much work it is to kill twenty men? I’d say we deserve a goddamn gold medal for our work today.”

Noah frowned, but Adam didn’t let him get caught up in Archer’s perpetually bad mood. “We’re fine. Everything’s fine. But we do have to find a working lighter. The fire still has to happen—somehow—or our next family gathering will be at our murder trial.”

Atticus sighed, looking down at his blood spattered hands. “When is Noah going to take care of the pedophile in my trunk? If he hasn’t already died of heat stroke, that is. He needs to be in there when we torch the place. At the moment, all roads lead to Gary being the culprit. His phone. His associates. If nothing else, it will buy us some time.”