Page 121 of The Wrong Man

Carlo raises an eyebrow. “Since when do you care about non-lethal?”

Since Dylan. Since everything.

“Just do what you can,” I say instead of answering. “The goal is to get Dylan out safely. Everything else is secondary.”

Moira clears her throat. “I have a contact who can help get you close. An old friend who runs a delivery service. He owes me several favors, and he won’t ask questions.”

“A delivery service?” Sean frowns. “How does that help?”

“His van is a regular sight in that neighborhood. Makes deliveries at all hours. No one will think twice about it pulling up near the house.” She looks at me. “He can get you to the street at the back of the property without raising any alarms.”

It’s a good plan. Much better than the ‘running for it and hoping for the best’ tactic I was going to use. I nod my thanks.

“What about Declan?” Ginni asks, and there’s an eager gleam in his eyes that’s slightly alarming. “What do we do with him?”

I think about Dylan. About everything Declan has put him through, not just in the past few days but over a lifetime. The childhood torment. The abandonment. The cruelty that never seemed to end.

“We take him alive,” I say. “Dylan gets to decide what happens to him.”

Ginni’s smile is sharp and eager. “And if Dylan decides he wants him hurt?”

“Then he’s all yours.”

Ginni’s dark eyes light up and he gives an excited wriggle.

Carlo looks a little alarmed, but he puts a hand on Ginni’s shoulder, equal parts affectionate and restraining. Beneath the concern, I can see the approval in his eyes. Carlo is coming to terms with the fact that his pretty little wife is good at hurting people.

And if anyone deserves to be hurt, it’s Declan O’Shea. He is going to pay for what he’s done. One way or another.

“When do we move?” Moira asks.

I check my watch. It’s nearly midnight. Dylan has been in Declan’s hands for almost three days now. Every hour that passes is an hour too long.

“Tonight,” I say. “We go tonight. Five AM, when the guards are tired and Declan is likely asleep.”

“That’s only a few hours away,” Sean says, and I can hear the nervousness creeping into his voice.

“Can you be ready?”

He looks at Teagan. She reaches over and squeezes his hand.

“We’ll be ready,” she says firmly. “For Dylan.”

For Dylan. The words echo around the room. Everyone here, from the mafia enforcers to the bakery workers to the aunt with a shotgun, all of them united by one thing.

Dylan.

The man who was exiled by his family, and didn’t turn bitter. The man who managed to make everyone in his new life love him. The man who made his way into my heart and refused to leave. The man I’m going to save, no matter what it costs me.

“Everyone knows their role?” I ask, looking around the room.

Nods all around.

“Then get some rest if you can. We meet back here at two. And when we leave...” I meet each person’s eyes in turn. “We don’t come back without Dylan.”

The room begins to clear. Sean and Teagan slip out first, holding hands, looking young and scared and impossibly brave. I catch Sean’s arm before he reaches the door.

“Thank you,” I say quietly. “For doing this. You don’t have to.”