right now. Brannigan stared at the back of Kyou’s head, not sure what to make of this man. There was so much he didn’t know about him. The one-sidedness of their relationship irked him.
The back door opened and before it could get very far, a cheerful voice called out, “Don’t shoot, it’s just us chickens!”
“Thank fuck,” Kyou said under his breath. Turning in his chair, he left Brannigan’s hands, a tired smile dragging the corners of his mouth up. “Get in here. I’m going through withdrawals without my tech.”
The first one through the door was a darkly handsome man. He was slender and graceful, the beat-up leather jacket hugging his body, almost hiding the gun strapped underneath. He appraised Brannigan with sharp, dark-brown eyes, but there was a hint of satisfaction in his expression, too. Behind him was another man. This one had salt-and-pepper hair with tanned skin, and he was ruggedly attractive.
And then there was Widow.
She couldn’t be anyone else, and Brannigan was fascinated by her. She came through with a spring in her step, a large laptop bag clutched in her arms, hair the color of good butterscotch floating about her in soft curls. She was beautiful and innocent looking, her pale skin a perfect contrast to the red sweater dress she wore. Then her chocolate brown eyes landed on him, and mischief lit her expression up in a gamine expression of pure glee.
“Bran,” Kyou did the introductions with a wave, “this is Malvagio, Smiley, and Widow.”
“Ari,” Malvagio corrected, offering a hand. “We met sooner than expected.”
Brannigan took the hand, not surprised by the calluses and strength in it. “We did. Thanks for coming so promptly.”
“Our pleasure.” Ari shot a wink at him before turning. “This is Carter, my fiancé, and our daughter, Remi.”
Brannigan was mid-shake with Carter when Kyou spluttered out, “Wait, when did you two get engaged?”
“Last night,” Carter answered ruefully. “We were having a very romantic candlelit dinner when Ivan called us and said there were things to shoot. Kind of ruined the moment. We meant to tell everyone today.”
“I get to walk Daddy down the aisle,” Remi informed Kyou, excitement making her bounce on her toes. “He promised. And wear a poofy dress.”
Kyou smoothed a hand over her head, his smile gentle. “Sounds like you’re already into pre-wedding planning. Here, give me that, then say a proper hi to Brannigan.”
She promptly did so, then stuck a hand out like her fathers had done. “Hi, Brannigan.”
Brannigan didn’t feel odd taking that small hand into his, not considering the work she’d already done on his behalf. Young, yes, but she was clearly capable. “Hello, Widow. Thanks for your help.”
Remi beamed up at him. “No problem!”
It was Smiley—Carter—who voiced the concern. “What do you guys have here? Anything?”
“I didn’t even have time to snag my evac bag,” Kyou said with a groan, pulling the laptop free. “I grabbed him from an open park. What we have is what we’re wearing.”
“Hmm, that’s a problem. Two options: I can go buy some clothes to tide you over, grab some more equipment to help boost you, or we can slip back into your individual apartments and grab some things.”
Kyou threw in, “Remi did an eval before we got here. Genovese property is being watched.”
“I vote we send Ivan in,” Ari stated, tapping a finger to his chin as he thought. “He can slip past everyone and get what we need. Easier than try to buy it all. Brannigan, if you’d sit and make a quick list for him and where it’s located, that will make things easier on him.”
“I certainly will. Ah…K? Can I have him bring my laptop or anything?”
Kyou turned a black look upon him, his outrage almost a living thing. “Of course you can. I don’t do insecure connections in my safe houses.”
Brannigan spread his hands in surrender. “Stupid question. Don’t shoot. Anyone got pen and paper?”
He sat at the table and made a list of things, or started to, but he really had no idea what to plan for. His start in life was a little…interesting…sure, but that didn’t mean he’d had a hit on him before. Well, he’d apparently had, but not one he’d been aware of. Mostly because, by the time he was twenty-six, he’d been under Kyou’s rather obsessive protection. Not much got past his guard. This situation was unprecedented.
Uncertainly, he asked, “Gentlemen? How long do you think this will take to resolve?”
They all stopped and looked at each other, a query on