Chapter Two

Jack

I stormed into my palatial home after checking that my security was still intact, going straight to the bar in my office to pour a glass of whiskey. My brother follows suit, and we drink them down while my mind whirls with questions. Who the fuck would do this?

"We need a better look at the cameras." I know they attacked all the entryway ones, but they didn't go for the ones that reach the path toward my house. Connor's house is next, down the road from my father's, so they didn't go that far down. They took my father's house, cutting every signal in the way.

I hit the enter key on the computer, waiting for the fucker to wake up, and then I enter my code. Once I'm in, I slide down the panel to the large ninety-inch flat screen that is equipped to display ten 4k-quality split screens at any given time. My alarm went off at 1:22 in the afternoon, so I loaded the time code to 1:20 and focused on the exterior. My brother and I are the only ones I trust enough to view this.

As we take a seat in front of the large screen, I hit play and allow everything to unfold. We both do our best to hold it together as we watch our comrades explode in front of our eyes. The guards at the front gate go flying. They were completely unaware of the explosion headed their way. Both men were taken by surprise.

"Fuck," Connor snarls, slamming his whiskey glass down.

"Pay attention." Three large white vans speed through the gates, riding over the mangled, burned remains. As they do, several of my men run from their locations with guns ready, armed for war, but they were unprepared and the guys in the white van jumped out with full-autos, unloading them. Three more of my men fall. One of the vans rides straight past the chaos and to my father's door just as the cameras go off.

"Switch it to the one from my driveway."

"I know what the fuck I'm doing." Double checking the time stamp, I switch to camera number five, and I get a different angle. It shows the van pulling up to our father's home and five armed men covered from head to toe storming the residence. Moments later, my father and my brother are sneaking out a back entrance with the nanny, trying to go around and head toward the other houses, but they're spotted.

My father is shot, and the nanny fights them, but there isn't much effort in it. My little brother is gagged while he continues to fight them before he goes limp. We spot the cloth over his mouth and know they drugged his little ass. Son of a bitch.

"Those bastards." My father gets up and attempts to fight, but they kick him twice before popping him on the shin and then driving off with the nanny and my little brother. I crush the glass in my hand.

"Son of a bitch—what are you doing? There's enough blood loss around here." We both move quickly to clean up the damn blood, but honestly, I don't give a shit because I need to figure out who these assholes are and why they took my brother after killing half my guards and leaving my father for dead on the damn front steps of his home.

"Do you think they'll be calling us for a ransom?" Connor questions as I rinse off the blood in my kitchen sink. The shit isn't too bad. I have a small cut from a shard that dug into my palm.

"Boss, is everything okay?"

"Yes, Johnny. I got a little pissed. Get the medical kit from the bathroom." He nods and leaves.

"They have to want something from us. There's no other damn reason to have stolen John." My head spins from the rage. I want to crush a motherfucker's head now.

"Could you stop fucking clenching your fist? I'm trying to clean this shit up." He wraps a kitchen towel around my hand, but I'm not concerned about anything other than my vengeance. It's already consuming me, filling me up, darkening my already cold heart.

"Sorry. I want to kill someone."

"And you will. Do you think it has to do with the deal this afternoon?" Johnny comes back through the kitchen door with the kit.

"Johnny, do you know all the men we lost today? I only saw about six men. We need to notify all of their families," I say, wanting to give him something to do while I keep our discussion private.

"Yes, Boss. I've already started making a list, and Mickey went in the ambulance with Mr. MacNamara."

"Is there anyone else at the hospital?"

"No, just the cops," Johnny says.

"Send one of my father's men to look over him, or better yet, after you get a list together, I'd like you to watch over him. I can't trust anyone at the moment. Especially anyone that might work for him."

"Yes, Boss." He nods and disappears from the kitchen, leaving Connor and me alone again.

I continued our previous conversation and answered his question. "No, the attack was happening while I was working on the deal. I hadn't even signed the contracts, but I'm not putting it past those assholes."

"I'm glad Johnny is going over to monitor Dad. We need to have someone watching his ass." I roll my fucking eyes and scoff as he tapes up my hand after applying some butterfly stitches.

"Personally, I don't give a fuck, but if he has information, I don't want anyone finishing the job they started."

"I don't think they wanted to kill him. If they did, he would have been shot in the head."

"True, like they did Sammy. Either way, I want answers, and I want these fucks dead and my little brother back," I snarl, slamming my good hand on the cold countertop.

"‘Our' little brother, and we will, Jack. We will," he says, pressing his hand to my shoulder. "Now let's get back to your office so we can see anything else we missed before you lost your shit."

"I was just the one to do it first. Don't tell me my other glass isn't fucking cracked."

"Well, I sure as fuck wouldn't trust pouring that high-quality liquor in it right now." He chuckles, shaking his head and walking back to my office. I follow, feeling heavy hearted. My little brother must be frightened as fuck right now. John isn't your typical five-year-old, and it scares me even more because they could kill him because of it.

John was born with brain damage, according to my father. My mother had a traumatic delivery, and she never recovered. He never mentally developed properly and was prone to fits of hysterics. The risk of his kidnappers killing him because of it was more than likely. Every minute he is in their hands is a minute too long. I'm grateful he has his nanny with him. She is one of the few who can at least calm him down. The only one who can get through sometimes.

Connor and I watch the video again, focusing on the vans, and each one is unmarked and indistinguishable. It's the movement toward the van that catches my interest and then my brother's. "Is she helping them?"

"No, she wouldn't," I mutter. She cares for my little brother and wouldn't harm him.

"Maybe she's only cooperating enough to stay alive," Connor adds. It makes sense because there are bodies strewn about, and if Joanne wants to protect John, she'll need to stay alive.

"We need to find them, and soon," I respond, focusing on the now paused screen, staring at the final images of my little brother before he's tossed into a van. "We'll find you, buddy, and we'll destroy all those who took you."

The door to my office swings open, and my gun is trained on the bastard. "Fucking hell, Ian," Connor roars at our younger brother, who looks like shit.

"I got here as fast as a plane can go." He's saying so much with so little, which scares me when it comes to Ian. The motherfucker is a different level of crazy. Connor and I kill people with pleasure and straightforward necessity. Ian will look for creative methods before finding something fun to do right after. One time, he offed eight people before going to a carnival, winning John eight stuffed animals—one for each of the people he killed.

"Did you fly one yourself?" Connor asks, staring at my wild-eyed brother.

"Yes."

I cock my brow, wondering if he stole the motherfucker or if he borrowed it because our private jet has a pilot and as far as I'm aware is still in the hangar at O'Hare.

"Don't tell me you stole one," I challenge.

"No, I borrowed a friend's. Now what the fuck is going on?" We give my brother the details as he polishes off three glasses of my whiskey like it's water.

"Could you at least savor it?" Connor complains, glaring at our younger brother.

"Fuck off. We need to find him. This is all my fault. There's no way I should have left this morning. I felt like something was wrong."

"And you might be dead or in the hospital. It was a straight-up ambush, bodies lying everywhere. We lost a total of ten men, Dad is in the hospital, and John and Joanne have been nabbed."

"I would have killed anyone who dared come for him."

"I know, but we don't know who they are or what they're capable of, Bro. We need to figure out how they knew where to look and how they knew we wouldn't be home. This was strategic. They came for John, and John alone. As soon as they had him, they were gone as if nothing else mattered."

He swallows hard, running his hand through his long black hair. "What's your plan, Boss?"

"I already put in for our contacts to pull all the traffic cameras leading away from our property. Until that happens, we need to do everything we can to look for a lead."

"Where the fuck do we begin?" Connor growls, rubbing his hand over his face.

"I want every call made to the gates and to Dad, and Joanne's phone checked too. Someone knew they would be here. We need to comb over the area, and I need someone to back-hack into our system and see how they were able to cut the feed to the cameras in front." Each runs on a different line intentionally to prevent a massive system failure and hacking, which means they knew how to get into it and knock out the right cameras.

"Damn, which means they are sophisticated enough to hit us hard. They have to be a big operation, or just crazy as fuck."

"They're dead either way. I want answers, our brother John back, and then a bunch of dead bodies littering our path on the way home." We part ways, working on answers, getting the men to do their job.

The first thing I need Connor to do is contact a contractor to rebuild the gate and have it reinforced. An impenetrable steel frame will be a must so that an explosion won't work. Fucking pricks got lucky that we were woefully unprepared for the level of brass balls on the bastards to play that dirty, but we've learned our lesson and that won't happen again. This place isn't just a compound of wealth and opulence. It was now going to become a fortress—Fort Motherfucking MacNamara—and I was now General Jack, holding this bitch down.

It is two in the morning when my eyes finally get the better of me and begin to grow heavy. My sleep doesn't last long because my phone blares, waking me up at four with Johnny on the line, informing me that the contractors are on their way here. Damn—I guess when you threaten a motherfucker, shit gets done fast. "I'll be ready to meet with them in thirty minutes."

I'm quickly showered, dressed, and shaved, running on almost no sleep, but now isn't the time to slow down. My family is suffering, and everything we built is hanging in the balance. More importantly, my little brother is missing.

"Mr. MacNamara, I was informed that you need this project done yesterday, so my team can work on it, but it will still take two weeks. What your man said you're asking for requires measurements, modifications, and intricate coding." He looks nervous, as if what he said is going to get him shot where he stands, but as a businessman, I understand there are only so many things you can do with labor, and curing metal with other hardening agents to a stone wall takes time. It can't just be done in a day. Not to mention all the wiring that goes into opening the sliding gates. The project won't be small.

"I understand. Make it happen in that time, and you'll be paid double." What I want is insane on such short notice and should take months of planning, but that's why I have the best come all the way out here for it.

"Yes, sir." He nods vigorously with a smile. "We'll get to work right now." He turns and goes straight to his work truck where I can see a younger version of himself sitting in the passenger seat. A son—someone to follow in his footsteps. I'm thirty-six, and I haven't considered that in my life.

"Boss, do you need some coffee or something?" Johnny asks. The growing concern in his voice would normally set me off because there isn't room for weakness in my position, but this is John we're talking about. Everyone knows that he is important to me.

"Thanks, Johnny. Let's go inside and make a game plan before I head to the hospital to pick up my father."

Connor comes into my office an hour after I sent Johnny on a mission. It's only eight in the morning. "Damn, did you even sleep?"

"Two damn hours," I grumble, tossing back the rest of my coffee in a large gulp because I have no time to waste and I need a serious pickup.

My phone goes off. "It's the hospital." I put the phone on speaker and hold it out so we can both hear the person on the other end.

"May I speak with Jack MacNamara, Jr.?" a woman asks with a tense formality that reeks of professionalism and annoyance.

"Jack MacNamara speaking."

"Hello, I'm Nurse Flanagan. I'm calling about your father."

"Is he dead?"

"No, no. He's improving quite rapidly. Although I must inform you that he has become belligerent and wishes to be released now."

"I apologize for his behavior and will try to get him under control."

"We understand the circumstances, given his son's disappearance. However, if he doesn't behave, we will have to sedate him." It would be hilarious if I wasn't already wanting to shoot someone in the head.

"We understand. Please don't do that. Inform him that I will be there shortly to pick him up," I say. I fucking need answers, and he's the best person to give them right now. I want John back like yesterday.

"Thank you, sir." He clicks the button, and we both run out of my office toward the front door.

****

When we enter my father's room, the asshole has the nerve to cop an attitude like the ungrateful bastard he is. "Took you long enough to get here. We need to get out of this place and find him now. Where have you been?" my father asks me, his face all fucked up. He's holding his side, and I'm glad about it. Giddy, in fact. He deserves the pain he gets for letting this happen to my brother. It's his job to protect my brother at all costs, and he fucking failed.

"Where the fuck was I?" I question, snarling and leaning in as Connor presses a hand to my chest to hold me back. "Why didn't you shoot the bastards before they got a hold of him? Why didn't you toss John in one of the safe rooms before it was too late?"

"I was on the bloody fucking ground, bleeding and broken."

My nose flared as I challenge him. He still fucking thinks he's in charge, but he lost that battle a long time ago when we were nearly killed because of him. "You should be dead, apparently, like our other men are. They let you off lightly, it would seem."

"Ha! How else do you think they're going to get the money out of me?" he asks.

"I suppose he has a point there," Connor says. Barely, because there's me they have to bargain with.

"Do you have any idea who they are?" I question, demanding answers as we stand in front of the nurses' station.

"So, do you think we can have this conversation somewhere else?" my brother asks, raising his brows while turning his head left and right, pointing out all the attention we're drawing.

I look at all the nosy-ass women, and they turn their heads when they catch my expression that says mind your fucking business . "Let's get out of here," I snarl, grabbing the old man's arm.

"Excuse me. I need you to sign these before he can leave," a nurse skittishly says, holding a clipboard out toward me. I take the papers from her shaky hands and look them over quickly, their standard release forms informing me that if something should happen to him after he leaves the hospital, they're not liable for it. I don't give a fuck, anyway. This man has pushed me to my limits over the past few years since my mother's death and even before, so I quickly sign off and tell them to bill me.

We walked out of the hospital and straight to my vehicle. My brother helps my father inside, and I go straight to the driver's side because hell if I'm going to give him a hand.

Tension between us has grown over the years, especially when it comes to John and his welfare. He may be his father, but he's been anything but a good one and has always pushed me away from my little brother. Since I wanted him to see other specialists outside of my father's private doctors. If I wasn't running the family business, I would have snatched him up and forced my father's hand. Once we get him back, that's exactly what I'll do, whether he likes it or not.

"I need to know everything that happened before I go another inch farther," I say, pulling over onto the side of the road just a few minutes into the drive.

"I know you don't believe me, Son, but I love him. Maybe not as much as I should as a father, and not as much as your mother would have loved him, but I do. I want him back, and I'm going to hurt everybody who took him from us."

I slam my fist into the steering wheel. "Just tell me what the fuck happened so we can find him and find those sons of bitches."

"We'll find him. I won't rest until I do."

I put my vehicle back in gear, hit the road, and drove toward the house. "Did you get a good look at the bastards?"

He shakes his head. "No. They were masked, and I was shot quickly." Of course, proving to be useless. If he was anyone else, he'd have a bullet in his head already.

"So, they grabbed Joanne?"

He shakes his head. "I don't know. At first, it sounded like they did because she was screaming, but then I heard her running and asking for help, and then gunfire started going off."

"This is going to be harder than we thought. We can't involve the police any more than they already have been. The fucking governor is on our ass already."

"You're damn right about that, but do you think that asshole could be involved?" my father asks.

"That son of a bitch could be."

Connor's phone goes off and he answers it, snarling, "Tell me you have something and not wasting my time." He nods and then mutters, "Get it to me, and if you find anything else, don't hesitate to give me a call. We want everything you got on the van, including reflections. Follow the cameras as far as you can." He ends the call and then says, "They got the video of a white van leaving the area in a hurry. They're trying to follow it, but it's rush hour and there are dozens of white vans passing until they reach the expressway."

Shit. This is exactly why they did it. Of course they wanted to blend in, and hell, there could be several white vans involved for all we know. They might have transferred John to another vehicle before we realized it.