Take (Fury Brothers #4)

1

REATH

Iwas ready for this damn day to be over.

A headache throbbed in one temple, and I made a mental note to grab some aspirin. Leaning over the keyboard, I tapped a few times and scanned the CCTV footage on the screen.

Nothing.

I growled under my breath. Some fucker had broken into my client’s warehouse in Mid-City and stolen some industrial equipment worth a lot of money.

I would find them.

I always did. It was what made Phoenix Security Services the best in New Orleans.

A whistle sounded at the door to my office. “Hey, boss, you’re looking slick.”

I lifted my head and saw one of my men, Lincoln, standing there with his tanned skin and shaggy, blond hair. He looked like he should have a surfboard tucked under one arm, ready to hit the waves. But despite the smile and easygoing demeanor, he was also a former Navy SEAL, an expert in Muay Thai fighting, and skillful with tech and computers.

I tugged on the sleeve of my tuxedo jacket. A fucking white tuxedo.

My brother Dante was holding a party at his upscale restaurant, Wildfire. It was Great Gatsby themed, and his woman, Mila, had delivered the suit to PSS with a demand that I wear it.

She was an event planner, and she could be strict.

“I have a charity thing. Dante and Mila are holding it at Wildfire.”

Linc grinned. “Those two are always raising money for something.”

It was true. My brothers and I all liked to give back as much as we could.

We’d come from nothing. Five boys who’d been discarded, abandoned. We’d all ended up in foster care, and we knew what it was like to have nothing but the clothes on your back. I’d been abandoned as a newborn and never known my parents. The foster system had been hit-or-miss for me. Some of my foster homes had been okay, but then, sometimes out of the blue, I’d be whisked away to a new placement.

Not all of them had been good. My jaw tightened. Some had been downright bad. Old memories lashed at me—shouts, blows, blood.

I locked the memories down. The past was the past. It couldn’t touch me anymore.

I’d found my brothers in our last foster home. They’d saved me—in more ways than one.

Now, we’d made successful lives for ourselves. We’d made New Orleans our home.

Dante owned the hottest club in the city, Ember, and several bars and restaurants. Colt was a successful bounty hunter. Kavner had always vowed to one day be rich and had built a billion-dollar business empire. Beauden ran Hard Burn, a gym with a long wait list to join.

I’d taken the skills I’d learned in the military—and some gained during a stint with The Agency—and used them to start Phoenix Security Services.

We were our own men, protecting what was ours, and living life our own way.

Except when I had to put on a 1920s-inspired suit, and schmooze.

Still, the money was going to help foster kids, so it was worth it.

I straightened. “I’d better go. Can you tell Noah there was nothing helpful on the CCTV for the Hixson case? Tell him to keep looking.”

“Will do. Have fun.” Linc waggled his eyebrows. “Maybe try and meet a woman.”

I shot him a look and headed out of my office.

After passing through the darkened computer room and through a secure doorway, I strode out into the hall. The interior of the PSS offices consisted of polished-concrete floors, wood, and glass with some industrial touches. I walked past the glass-walled conference room.