The Nomad Series-Collectors Edition

by Janine Infante Bosco

  “And we had a twenty percent off coupon at Bed, Bath and Beyond,” Stryker adds.

  “It’s nice to see everyone in such great spirits,” Jack mutters, swiping a hand down his worn face.

  “I fucking love it,” Riggs chimes in. “If you can’t beat them join ‘em,” he says, stretching his arms behind his head. “Makes me want to take a picture and send it to Yankovich.”

  “Except we still don’t know where the fuck he is,” Blackie reminds us.

  Wolf turns his eyes to Riggs.

  “You can hack into the fucking DMV but you can’t find anything in cyberspace on this dickhead?”

  “Actually,” Bas interjects, bracing his elbows on top of the table. His long blond hair is tied back in a ponytail and his blue eyes land on Jack. “Me and Needles have a few leads we want to check out with your permission,” he adds.

  “Way to make a guy look bad,” Riggs grunts, dropping his arms to his sides.

  “What do you mean you have a few leads? Why is this the first time I’m hearing about it?” Jack hisses.

  “Well, with all due respect,” Needles starts, stroking a finger down the length of his neatly trimmed beard. “You’ve been otherwise occupied with the situation regarding Blackie’s late wife and this information sort of just dropped into our lap.”

  “Rush’s old lady called me two days ago,” Bas supplies. “Clearing out the house she shared with Rush, she came across some papers.”

  As the story unfolds, I find myself torn in which direction I should look. At the mention of Blackie’s late wife, our vice president withdraws. He threads his fingers through his overgrown hair and his eyes fade. Then my eyes dart to Deuce as he slams his fist against the table at the mention of Rush.

  “Go on,” Jack demands.

  Reaching into his cut, Bas produces an envelope. Dropping it onto the table he pushes it into the middle. Wolf grabs it first and starts pulling out the contents as Bas and Needles take turns revealing what he’s looking at.

  “There were several discarded pieces of paper. Some have phone numbers scribbled on them, others have addresses. But, if you look at the letterhead on one of them it’s written in Russian,” Needles says.

  “We looked into it briefly and the letterhead belongs to an abandoned warehouse in Purchase, New York,” Bas informs.

  “How do you know it’s abandoned?” Riggs questions.

  “Well, judging by the photos on Google Earth, a rodent couldn’t survive in there,” Needles answers.

  “What about these phone numbers?” Wolf asks, pushing the papers across the table to Riggs.

  “They’re old and out of service. There are also three other addresses on there we didn’t get a chance to look into,” Bas says.

  Flipping through the papers, Riggs studies them before lifting his eyes to Jack.

  “All these addresses have the same zip code as the letterhead.”

  “The deed to the warehouse is in Yankovich’s brother’s name,” Needles adds.

  “It might be worth checking out,” Bas suggests. “While we wait on Rocco.”

  “I don’t think we’re going to be waiting much longer,” Jack says, pointing toward the lot. All eyes follow his gaze and watch as the black Maserati stops in front of the garage.

  “Did you know he was coming?” Blackie questions.

  “He called this morning,” Jack replies. “That’s why we’re all here,” he informs, turning his attention back to Bas. He points a finger between him and Needles before continuing. “Let’s see what Spinelli has to say but, it might be beneficial to dig further,” he says, before casting his dark eyes on Riggs. “Is there anything you can do with these numbers?”

  “I can find out who they were registered to,” he says confidently.

  The sound of the doors closing causes me to turn my head and I watch Rocco start toward us. Surrounding him are his two usual minions and behind him Anthony Bianci trails. Beside him walks a man dressed as sharply as Victor Pastore once dressed.

  “Gentleman,” Rocco greets, undoing the top button of his collared shirt. The man looks uncomfortable dressed in a suit whereas his uncle looked as if he was born to wear them. It makes me wonder how truly comfortable he is standing in Vic’s shoes.

  “Spinelli, you better have something for me,” Jack growls.

  “Such an impatient man,” Rocco chastises.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite brother-in-law,” Riggs says, drawing our attention to Anthony and the man standing next to him.

  “What’re you doing here?” Jack questions, pinning his dark eyes to Bianci’s blues.

  “Isn’t it you who taught me not to shy away from a brother in need?” Anthony answers, crossing his broad arms against his chest.

  “You crossing over to the other side, Bianci?” Blackie asks.

  “Just helping the boys in leather get their due revenge,” he supplies, draping an arm around the man beside him. “I come bearing a present,” he says. “Jack Parrish, meet Artie D’Onofrio.”

  Artie walks across the room and stands in front of Jack. Offering his hand, he unbuttons his suit jacket.

  “Victor Pastore was an associate of mine,” he reveals.

  “What he means, is Uncle Vic saved his ass back in the eighties and Artie here, never repaid that debt,” Rocco interjects. “Isn’t that right, Artie?”

  Jack narrows his eyes as he slips his hand into Artie’s.

  “That so?”

  Ignoring the question, Artie shakes Jack’s hand.

  “Anthony and Rocco have brought it to my attention that I never properly repaid my debt to Victor and I’ve agreed to offer my assistance to you as a show of good faith between the organizations,” he shares, dropping Jack’s hand. Shoving a hand into his pocket, he glances around the table. “They’ve brought me up to speed on your situation and I am willing to be your mule.”

  “Do you know of Vladimir Yankovich?” Blackie questions.

  “I know what he’s done to your club,” Artie answers.

  “Then, you understand how crucial it is that we take this bastard down.”

  “I have three daughters, so yes, I understand.”

  The president and the Chicago based gangster share a silent exchange before Jack nods and offers him his seat at the head of the table.

  “Have a seat, Artie,” Jack demands.

  Once Artie is seated, Blackie and Riggs pull a few more crates from the back of the garage and past meets present. Though Victor Pastore is missing from our table, silk manages to meet leather and the club forges an alliance with the mob one more time. We share our concerns and iron out the details of our plan and when my name is mentioned, I don’t let Wolf speak for me.

  “I think we’re being naïve in believing we can fool him,” I admit. “Being in the hospital for months may have left me off Yankovich’s radar but there is no guarantee he doesn’t know I am part of the club. You guys kept a strong presence at the hospital. If he was tailing you guys, which I think it’s fair to say he was, he knows who I am.”

  “Are you backing out?” Deuce questions.

  “No, I’m saying we’re fools to think he don’t know me. Originally the plan was for me to go into the card game and earn his trust. That’s not going to happen.”

  “It was your suggestion,” Blackie reminds me.

  “Well, I’ve had a little more time to digest what’s been going on,” I counter. “I’m not saying the card game isn’t our in with the devil. I’m saying we need to rework our strategy.”

  “He’s right,” Jack agrees.

  “May I?” Artie questions and Jack nods. “What is the goal here? Do any of you really give a damn what his motives are or what his next step is? I mean, if I were in your shoes all I’d care about is cutting him at the knees. I’d want him to pay for all his crimes.”

  Silence engulfs the garage as we all take turns looking at one another. Finally, everyone looks at Jack for guidance and the final decision.


  “What about the two girls that went missing around the same time as Ally? They’re still unaccounted for and who knows how many more there are that we don’t even know about,” Cobra says.

  “I know this is personal for you,” Jack starts. “That you lost your sister and out of all of us, I imagine this is hardest on you but, you got her back now. As much as we want to save everyone, I think it’s time we accept the fact we can barely save our own.”

  If you know Jack Parrish, you know it’s killing him to admit he isn’t some vigilante god. The man doesn’t want to accept defeat but, he’s sworn to keep the people in our circle safe. He’s put a lot on his plate, made a lot of people property of Parrish and to know he’s scared of losing them doesn’t make him any less of a leader. It makes him human.

  “It’s time to pray those girls find peace wherever they are and end this nightmare,” Jack says hoarsely, looking back at Artie. “What are you suggesting?”

  “From what Rocco and Anthony have both told me, this is a power play. Your club and Rocco’s organization are both threats to his operation. It seems he wants you off the map so he can control the harbor. You say he moves girls and drugs through shipping containers and whatnot, with Rocco holding the contract to the shipping yards and you the ruler of the streets, you’re making his work more difficult. That’s where I come in. I play the man who wants to be his business partner. I show up at his card game with your guy but instead of conning him the way we originally planned, we make him think I’ve abducted Linc. We’ll make it look like I roughed him up,” he says, turning his gaze to me. His eyes dart to the wheelchair. “What’s the deal with the chair?”

  “I’m a lazy bum,” I bite back sarcastically. “What do you think the deal is? The motherfucker blew up our clubhouse. My legs were fucked up and I’ve been trying to teach myself to walk again.”

  “Perfect,” Artie says. “Then it would be believable to him when I make it look like I broke into your house, tore shit up and took you to further my agenda.”

  “Ain’t nobody tearing shit up in a house I’m paying double for,” Wolf grunts.

  “As I was saying,” he starts, ignoring Wolf’s outburst. “…we make it look like I attacked the club by taking one of your men. Rocco gets me into the card game and I show up with you,” he points a finger toward me. “He’ll either go ballistic or he’ll remain calm but, we’ll be prepared for either.” He turns to Jack. “You and your men will be on call for the game. You’ll know where it is and be ready for action. If he remains calm, I’ll explain my agenda to him. That I took your guy as a show of good faith to partner with him and take both you and Rocco down. You’re good with cards, yes?” Artie questions, ignoring Wolf. “If Yankovich has really done his homework that is something he’ll know and there is a chance he will bring me into the fold. With any luck, he’ll reveal his motive, maybe even disclose where he’s keeping those girls you mentioned but, it’ll get you in the door and then it’s up to you to decide how he pays for everything he’s done.”

  “When is the card game?” Jack asks, turning to Rocco.

  “It’s weekly but, Artie is going to have to reach out and attempt a buy-in.”

  “I’ll have one of my associates reach out,” Artie offers. “He’ll likely deny me seeing as he has no idea who I am but we’ll be persistent until he caves.”

  “And if he doesn’t?” Blackie counters.

  “Then I show up with your guy anyway,” he answers simply. “Make a big show of it, crash his party and demand his attention. Either way, we’re going to get in.”

  “Not if you don’t know where he’s hosting the game.”

  “I’m a very resourceful man, Mr. Parrish,” Artie assures. “If he doesn’t accept me as a player, I will find where the game is being held.” He turns his eyes back to me. “I’ll bring you to Yankovich,” he promises. “You just be ready to deliver him his sentence.”

  After months of uncertainty, we finally have a solid plan in place. One would think it would feel as if a weight was lifted but, the tension thickens around us as we realize we’re closer to Hell than we’ve ever been before.

  It’s not a lonely ride.

  It’s a doomed one.

  -Twenty-nine-

  KELLY

  For starters, you can acknowledge the truth I gave you.

  For the first week, I ignored it. I put my best effort into keeping myself busy, allowing no time to pine over his broken promises. I played back the day I woke up alone in Linc’s room, the day Sin told me he had left. The day I started believing Linc’s love had been a lie, something I imagined and forced myself to trust. I wouldn’t say it was easy to understand or accept. I fought Sin for weeks, spent days trying to break the man who couldn’t be broken. Eventually, I had no choice but to accept the man I gave my heart and soul to didn’t want me. If I wanted to move on, I had to chalk up the greatest years of my life to nothing more than a mistake. One epic mistake.

  Now, it’s two weeks since he’s told me that the only mistake between us is the one he made walking away. A week since he cornered me at my job and challenged me to accept a new truth.

  He loved me.

  It’s almost as if he thought those three words would fix everything broken between us. Like his confession would suddenly mend my broken heart and restore my trust in him. In case you can’t tell, I’m pissed. Actually, pissed isn’t the right word I’m fucking furious.

  Not just at him but mainly at myself because I want to believe him. I want to forget everything that happened to us over the last two years and move forward with him. I don’t want to guess where I’m headed, I want to stay home with him. Always him.

  So, yeah, I’m angry. Angry at myself because for the last week I’ve been thinking of our five-year plan. By now, I should’ve had my pink poodle. We should have our own apartment somewhere and he should be spending every night trying to get me pregnant not playing poker at my uncle’s kitchen table.

  Agitated, I toss my empty plate in the sink before turning the faucet on and rolling up my sleeves.

  “You okay over there?” he questions.

  “Peachy,” I mutter, attacking the plate with a sponge.

  “Rough day at the office?” Nico teases. “There isn’t anything more annoying than an unruly muffler.”

  “Sure, there is,” I growl over my shoulder. “A cousin with a smart mouth.”

  “Don’t you dare try to front and pretend like I’m not the reason you’ve decided to park your ass in the city that never sleeps,” Nico replies.

  “Actually,” Linc interjects.

  The plate falls from my hands and lands with a clatter in the sink. Turning my head, I widen my eyes and reach for a dishtowel.

  “You got something to say?” I challenge.

  Ignoring me, he keeps his eyes on the cards in his hand and pushes a stack of chips into the center of the table.

  “I don’t think Nico has much to do with your decision to stay,” he retorts smugly. Nico’s phone rings, and he mutters a curse. Reaching for his phone, he studies the screen before turning to me.

  “I gotta take this,” he mutters, rising to his feet. “Can you play my hand?”

  Slicing my gaze back to Linc, his lips quirk as he tries to suppress a grin. Deciding it would serve me much pleasure to beat the bastard at his own game, I take Nico’s hand and plant my ass in the chair across from Linc.

  Nico disappears onto the back deck and I shuffle my cards around. Knowing I have a decent hand, I match Linc’s bet and raise him two chips. He cocks an eyebrow.

  “I’m not sticking around for you,” I declare, raising my cards.

  “You never did quite master a poker face,” he accuses. My eyes shoot to my eyebrows as I lower my hand and glare at him.

  “Your balls are the size of fucking planets,” I admonish.

  “Not really. I think they’re pretty average. Now, my dick, that’s—”

  “I don’t need to be reminded,” I interrupt.
r />   He smiles.

  “Glad to see it left an impression,” he says, nudging his chin toward the cards in my hand. “Time to show your hand, Pinky.”

  “You first,” I challenge.

  “That’s not how this works,” he teases.

  “I know how it works,” I mumble.

  “Laid my cards down for you two weeks ago and I’m still waiting for you to show me your hand,” he says, fanning his cards and displaying them on the table.

  Royal fucking flush.

  “You win,” I mutter, showing him my hand.

  “Not really,” he says, not bothering to glance at the cards. Instead, he keeps his eyes firmly planted on me. “Winning would be if you stopped ignoring me.”

  “I’m not ignoring you.”

  “Right, so how is it we live under the same roof and I barely see you for two weeks. You forget we’ve done this dance before—”

  “No, Linc I didn’t forget but, I’m not the girl I was back then. If you’re waiting for me to crawl into your bed and ask you to love me again, it’s not going to happen. I’m not looking for trouble anymore.”

  “So, what are you looking for?”

  That seems like a loaded question, one I’m not prepared to answer.

  “I’m trying to figure that out.”

  “I could help you,” he says with a shrug.

  “You don’t quit, huh?” I question with a sigh.

  “I quit once before and I regret it,” he says.

  I’m about to roll my eyes when he surprises me by pushing back his chair. Gripping the ends of the table, he lifts himself onto his feet. My eyes scan the room for his wheelchair but, it’s nowhere in sight.

  “What’re you doing? Where’s the chair?”

  He turns around, and that’s when I notice the walker behind him.

  “I decided it needed a rest,” he says, pushing the walker in front of him. I watch as he shuffles his feet around the table and when he’s standing in front of me, I lift my eyes to his.