Take (Fury Brothers #4)

Keiko hesitated, her ink-black hair falling over her forehead. “You okay?”

“Fine,” I bit out.

She gave me a salute and left.

I was fine. The last thing I wanted, or needed, was a woman messing up my equilibrium. I was happy that Colt, Kavner, and Dante had found women they loved.

But I didn’t need that.

I’d survived just fine without love my entire life. There had been no loving mother, no supportive father, no caring grandmother in my life. I’d had no one.

And I knew that romantic love—more often than not—got messy and caused trouble.

I lived to eliminate trouble.

The phone on my desk rang, and I snatched it up. “Fury.”

“Reath.” I recognized the deep voice of one of my informants. Jason Donlon was a local weapons dealer. He wasn’t exactly on the right side of the law—some of his customers definitely weren’t—but Donlon was a decent guy. He’d been a former Green Beret and was the devoted father to four daughters.

“Donlon. How are things?”

“Not bad.” There was a long pause. “Look, I just got some intel I wanted to share. It might not be anything.”

My instincts vibrated to life. Donlon fed me any information he thought might affect the safety of New Orleans. “Go on.”

“Just had some customers. They weren’t recommendations, but they dropped a few names.”

I knew Donlon usually only accepted referrals from existing clients.

“They just got some handguns and rifles. They’re European. They gave me a vibe.”

Clearly not a good one. “They say what they’re doing in New Orleans?”

“No specifics. I overheard two talking in French, and they obviously didn’t expect me to know any. Talked about getting the job done fast. Talked about getting their hands on some project. Laughed about a big payday.”

Frowning, I leaned back in my chair. “You got any pics of them?”

“You know I don’t keep a camera inside. It spooks my clientele.”

I grunted. Right, we wouldn’t want to make lowlifes uncomfortable.

“I do have some external footage. Not that clean, and the head guy, he clearly knew where the cameras were. He kept his head down. I’ll send you what I’ve got.”

“Thanks, Donlon.”

“I’m flexible about who I sell my gear to, but something about these guys feels off.”

“I’ll look into it.”

“Thanks, Reath.” He sounded relieved as he ended the call.

I glanced at my watch. I was due at Hard Burn to meet my brothers. I’d have to look into Donlon’s guests later.

I grabbed my gym bag from beside my desk, and headed out of the office. I called out goodbyes to the guys manning the night shift.

It was a short walk to Beau’s gym. It was cooler tonight. This time of year, the humidity and the temperatures started to dip.

The simple black-and-red sign above said Hard Burn. Typical Beau—short and to the point. I shouldered through the door. Inside, the gym was dominated by roped-off boxing rings, but there was also standard gym exercise equipment and free weights at the back. Music mixed with the sounds of boxing gloves hitting bags, and grunts.