Chapter Twelve

Fighter returned to the bedroom and found Mark sitting on the twin bed rocking a sleeping Emma. Elijah was already asleep in his crib.

“Thanks, Mark,” Fighter whispered and took Emma from his arms.

“You need to come stay at my place.” Mark kept his voice low.

Fighter was already shaking his head. Mark had a one-bedroom apartment. Plus, Mark wanted more from him then he was willing to give. He liked and respected Mark as a friend, but that was all the man would ever be.

“Go get some sleep.”

“I’m not leaving you here with a broken door.”

“Bishop is on his way. He’s going to put something up temporarily.”

Hurt slammed into Mark’s eyes. Fighter couldn’t help it. He just felt more comfortable around Bishop. With Bishop here, Fighter could concentrate on his kids until morning without worry. Bishop was the type of man who would and could fuck anyone up who got through the broken door. Mark did okay on the job, but he didn’t have the capability nor the drive to protect like Bishop.

“Go on,” Fighter said gently. “Get some sleep.”

“I’ll sit in the office until Bishop gets here,” Mark said grudgingly.

“Okay, then get one of the weapons from the gun safe. You know where the key is.”

“Wake up whoever the fuck you need to,” Brick told Syn. “And pay them whatever they ask to come out here and replace the door to Suwan’s building right the fuck now.”

Syn stared at him for a split second and then pulled out his cell phone.

Brick clenched his hands around the steering wheel of his truck. While his team had gone back to headquarters, he and his brother, who’d arrived an hour ago, had stayed behind.

That had not been a stalker. Those men were there for a reason and Brick was going to get to the bottom of it.

The stubborn man within that building needed his ass kicked. He had children to think of and that building was no place to stay for the night. Or ever. Ugh.

Even if Fighter now had Mark in there and they probably had weapons, it might not be enough to keep everyone safe. It pissed him off at how hard-headed Fighter was being about his offer to help.

Wasn’t that what Fighter wanted? Hadn’t he said he needed money at the fundraiser?

Why the fuck was the man so stubborn at accepting help now?

The dire situation had hit him like a fucking ton of bricks the moment he’d stepped inside Fighter’s place of business—the guy needed cash badly. The room that housed Fighter and his two kids was no better than a fucking dump.

I’m not a whore you can buy.

Brick inwardly cringed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d fucked up royally that night. He’d let his past affect that moment and while he didn’t regret protecting himself, he could acknowledge he could have handled it better.

He rubbed the aching spot on his chest where Fighter’s hands had slapped him earlier. It hadn’t hurt, but it had left an impact.

“You okay?” Syn said, getting off the phone.

“Yeah, what’d you find?”

“For five thousand they can be here in five minutes.”

“Good.”

Five thousand was chump change. What resided inside the Suwan building was priceless.

Brick shifted uncomfortably. “I want every storefront on this fucking block fixed as soon as possible.”

Syn looked up from his iPad. “Are we buying the property?”

“No. Unless they won’t cooperate with the upgrades.”

“What money?”

Brick swept his eyes down the shabby block. “One of my trust funds.”

“You got it.” Syn made a note on his pad. The upgrades wouldn’t even make a dent in Brick’s four trust funds, but Syn always thought ahead. “We could use it as a write-off.”

“What are you thinking?”

“Community donation.”

“That won’t work. These buildings aren’t city-owned.”

“I’ll make it work.”

“Whatever. I don’t care how you do it, just get it done.”

“Yes, sir.” Syn saluted and Brick rolled his eyes.

“Punk.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Brick gave an annoyed sound. “Go in there and tell Fighter that someone is coming to repair the door tonight. All we need is a contractor getting shot at.”

“Why me?” Syn frowned.

An old, rusty van pulled up across the street and backfired. Brick tensed, but it was only Bishop, who hopped out and hurried inside the building.

“Because if I go in there, Fighter is going to punch me again,” Brick said, pressing a hand lightly to his side.

Syn dragged his gaze from the building. “Yeah yeah, okay. The things I do for you.” Syn grimaced, but didn’t get out of the truck.

“Well?”

Syn pulled out his phone. “I’m texting Wyatt to tell Bishop to tell Fighter.”

Brick made a sound of exasperation, but didn’t argue.

Allen Cook slammed his fist into the jaw of the man standing in front of five other guards. Billy stumbled backward and was caught by the men before he was shoved upright.

“I asked you to do one fucking thing and your men got their asses handed to them.”

“They didn’t have time to ransack the place,” Billy said, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Why weren’t you there?” Cook’s tone was flat and Billy swallowed and shook his head. “I hand-picked that group. I was across town at Flint’s place trying to collect that debt.”

Cook’s nostrils flared and he turned to walk to the pristine window that overlooked the Denver skyline. “I need the money Suwan owes me.”

“I can tell he’s hurting for cash. Bad. I don’t think he can pay.”

Cook rolled his neck and walked back across the wide room and took a seat in his office chair. “Find out who helped him tonight. Also, send Fighter a message.”

Billy, who’d followed him to his desk, took out his phone and opened up a blank message. “What should it say?”

Cook smiled cruelly.