by A. J. Macey
“Like what?” Brooks asked with a confused expression. Stone rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly as he took a drink.
“Weapons, Boss. Knowing her, it’ll be a lot of weapons,” Stone told Brooks. I couldn’t stop the small chuckle that bubbled out of me at the playfulness in his words.
“And long-range listening devices, night vision cameras, infrared, desert camo…” I trailed off with a single shrug when I figured they’d gotten the idea. “Figured we’d take the SUV and the truck, staggered leaving, and taking different routes. Since we aren’t sure when the meeting is supposed to be, we need to be out there and prepped as soon as possible.”
“Actually,” Chase spoke up, licking the whip cream off the end of the rubber spatula before flashing the guys another heated stare. I rolled my eyes, but on the inside I felt my core flare at the display. My greedy pussy surged in a wave of desire as I saw Brooks staring with an equally heated gaze, followed by Garrett. Stone didn’t react, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything since he was usually as stoic as his namesake. “I may or may not have overheard…” Chase stopped talking, his eyes glazing over for a split section before refocusing on us. “I’m sorry, we overheard some chatter between some of Frankie’s underlings that something big was going down tonight right after sun down.”
“We?” Garrett’s brow scrunched as he glared, his coffee clearly not having kicked in.
“Yes, we. Me and Ciar.” Chase waved a hand toward the side of his head. “He’s being abnormally bossy because he’s extra bloodthirsty.”
“So, a little after eight then,” I surmised. “Good, we should still head out to grab the shit we need and get out there. Do a bit of recon on the space to find the best location to watch from.”
“Breakfast first,” Chase pointed out, dishing up the food onto a plate before setting it in front of me. “I’ll also pack some shit for while we’re out. Kittycat, you still have some MREs?” I nodded, shoveling food into my mouth quickly, my stomach growling at the scent of the bacon, eggs, and pancakes that surrounded me.
“Mhm,” I mumbled around a full bite. “We’ll grab a few,” I agreed hastily when I finally swallowed my food. Stone groaned which made me quirk an eyebrow at him.
“I’ve eaten enough MREs in my lifetime during my time in the military that I think I’d rather starve,” he answered my unspoken question.
Ah, right, former Ranger.
Stone went back to eating, his eyes focused on his food as I took him in. I could see the former military in him, the way he held himself, the way his eyes darted from one thing to the next, constantly taking in his surroundings.
Now, the question is how did a Ranger end up the enforcer of a motorcycle gang?
“You going to eat that, Baby?” Brooks asked, reaching toward my last piece of bacon. Balking, I slapped his hand away and shoved it into my mouth. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Damn right it’s mine, it’s fucking bacon.
Brooks and I pulled up ten minutes after Garrett, Stone, and Chase arrived at The Bank. We pulled into the front while they had parked around back to help keep eyes off of us as well as load one vehicle and then the other. Hopping out, I immediately squinted against the glaringly bright overhead sun bouncing off the front windows of the building. Dark tinting of the windows with the building facing the sun most of the day had been a safety precaution I had installed along with bullet proof glass and heavy duty security. Can’t see into the building if you’re being blinded.
I mean, I was The Cat. Couldn’t have people stealing the metaphorical mouse from underneath my paws.
But damn was that shit bright as fuck.
The air conditioning cooled my flushed skin as soon as I pulled open the door, Dwight’s bright smile greeting me as soon as my eyes adjusted to the interior lighting. My three men waited in the lobby as I walked past and down the hall before descending into the basement.
“All vaults this time, Ms. Kitty?” Dwight questioned, readying his keys. I chuckled but shook my head, following suit with my keys.
“No, Dwight, only the usual vault and the equipment vault this time. I have no need for such heavy-duty machinery for this job,” I responded professionally, flashing him a small smile. Silas Rodgers, a.k.a. Dwight Abrams, was an ex-fighter and hitter for a gang down in Las Vegas I recruited a couple of years ago. The reason I talked in such a bullshit manner with him? I didn’t really know but we had since I first met him. He was a lot like Chase in the sense that he didn’t look or seem like someone who had that bloodthirsty urge, but it was definitely there, and he played the role of ‘bank manager’ well even though he was technically the watchdog for my vaults, not a businessman.
“Of course,” Dwight dipped his head in a polite nod, “it is lovely to see your last transaction went well and that you’re able to continue with your career. If you need anything further, you know where to find me.” He turned toward my men, his grin sharpening ever so slightly as he addressed them. “Gentlemen.” Without further banter, he ascended the stairs leaving us alone. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing at the guys’ narrowed eyes as they watched my employee leave.
“I don’t like him,” Garrett bit out turning his attention to me. “He seems... I don’t know…”
“Like not a branch manager?” Brooks finished, scratching his beard, his gaze still trained on the stairs where Dwight had just been. I couldn’t hold back the laughter any longer at Brooks’ statement.
“Because he’s not a branch manager; you really think I’d hire a businessman to watch over my shit? Ha, good joke. He was a fighter down in the rings in Las Vegas. Met him after he had fallen in with the wrong gang.” I shrugged. “Offered him a way out after I determined he was good.”
“Do you just collect people under your wing?” Brooks asked with a tiny grin. I flashed a bright smile in return.
“You’re always stronger when you have solid business relations. Besides, where the hell am I supposed to keep all of this shit if I don’t have a trusted person watching over it for me?”
“You’re crazy, Baby,” Brooks countered with a soft smile and a gaze that made my cheeks heat. “Let’s get these weapons and stuff, so we can get to work. I don’t want to see you crazy and stressed if we take too long.” I rolled my eyes but didn’t bother responding.
Because you know what? He’s totally right, that would be terrifying.
“Fucking hell.” Garrett’s voice was muffled through the ear bud as he adjusted for the tenth fucking time in the last five minutes. I sighed and glared over at him from my prone position against the rocks. “What?” he hissed, his emerald eyes burning as he matched my angry stare.
“Stop fucking moving. It’s annoying, and I don’t want to miss anything with you shifting every two seconds,” I argued quietly. I purposely ignored the sound of Brooks and Chase chuckling in the earpiece.
“Three cars en route.” Stone’s gruff voice filtered through the earpiece in a sobering statement. “Black SUVs. I don’t know what kind…”
“Alfa Romeo Stelvio? Triangle shaped grill with a logo that has a red plus sign and green snake?” I asked, pulling my infrared binoculars to my face. I had a set of night vision ones next to me… But looking at headlights with them? No, thank you, I like my eyeballs functional.
“Uh, yeah. How did you know that?”
“It’s the newest model, and Frankie loves his high-priced toys,” I bit out. Shaking my head slightly, I pushed away the memories that threatened to drown me. Focus on the job. “Any eyes on who they’re meeting?”
“Not yet, but I see something moving in the distance,” Brooks answered from his and Chase’s position west of the meeting site. After a few more moments, Brooks confirmed another three vehicles approaching. I closed my eyes and took a steadying breath, readying myself to see the one person I hated more than anything. A hand lightly curled around my forearm, the thumb rubbing soothingly on my camo sleeve. Garrett’s eyes locked onto mine when I loo
ked over, his head dipping ever so slightly in silent communication.
I was not alone.
“All right, meeting should commence in less than a minute,” I murmured through the ear bud and adjusted my infrared binoculars on the two approaching convoys. “Cameras and mics recording?” After they all sent back an affirmative, I responded, “All right, comm silence unless necessary. All eyes and ears open, this could be our only shot to figure out what the hell Frankie is up to.”
A round of ‘roger’ calls went up before the comm went silent, all of us watching the cars come to a stop in a cluster in the small open area they had picked to meet. Stone was watching from the Northeast on a smaller alcove tucked into some rocks, while Chase and Brooks sat opposite to the West. Garrett and I were up on a higher, flat topped rock formation looking down over the edge at the meeting. All three points had night and infrared cameras and long-range recording devices set up, infrared binoculars, and night vision goggles. Hey, you don’t skimp when it’s a matter of life and death.
In this case, it’s Frankie’s death, but still, you get the point.
I bit back the urge to vomit despite the burn of acid searing my chest and throat as I saw my father step out of one of the Italian SUVs, but no Jace Corden hot on his heels like I expected. Maybe he’s in one of the other two, I thought as I watched from my perch. Cory Harbold exited next from the second SUV, and another face I couldn’t wait to get ahold of stepped from the third. Fucking Lorenzo Bianchi. Bloody bastard.
“No Corden,” I whispered softly, “anyone have eyes on him?”
“No,” echoed through the comm from all sides meaning Jace hadn’t come to the meeting.
Guess we’ll have to dig up where that little fucking bottomfeeder is hiding and what he’s up to.
“Mr. Casterelli,” a blond-haired man with a soft tan held his hand out for my father to shake. The difference between them was night and day; while Frankie was dressed to perfection, the man he was meeting had wavy, unkempt hair and was dressed in jeans and long sleeve t-shirt. “It’s wonderful to finally meet with you face to face.”
“For me as well,” Frankie greeted formally shaking Blondie’s hand. “I trust our previous arrangements are still good?” I felt my hands go clammy, and I had to fight to keep myself calm. I had never wanted to hear his voice again unless it was in an agonizing scream that was ripped from his throat as I tortured him slowly.
“Definitely, the Shadowed Skulls will be pushing merchandise while the Solace’s Paradise is being built in exchange for a cut of the profits. Have you come up with terms for once the new casino and resort are completed?” My vision tunneled. Shadowed Skulls were one of the major gangs on the West coast, particularly in California, and they had slowly been conquering their smaller rivals in a wave of bloody fights.
If Frankie gets his fucking hands on the chunk of land the Shadowed Skulls held... holy fucking hell. I retched slightly, my hand flying to cover my mouth before I could lose my lunch all over the rock.
“I believe my lawyer and I have come to an arrangement that would be most agreeable for you and your men.” Frankie waved a hand toward Harbold who waddled his way forward, reaching into the briefcase that always seemed glued to those meat mitts that he called hands. It was silent for several minutes while Blondie and his lanky lawyer read through the contract Harbold had pulled out. It was too far and too small of a font to be able to read what the paper said, so I strained my ears and prayed they’d be dumb enough to cliff-note it for us.
They didn’t, of course, because fuck us.
“These are more than agreeable,” the spokesman for the Shadowed Skulls replied, flashing Frankie a wide, slightly cocky smile as he brushed his wavy hair from his eyes. “The Shadowed Skulls look forward to working with the Casterelli Mob.” My father nodded but didn’t respond as he shook Blondie’s hand once more before they both went their separate ways. Frankie and Harbold were the first back in their caravan while the men of the California gang did the same, and the few guards stood glaring at each other in the meantime. I could feel the tension from way the hell up here.
Go on, shoot, start a war, I mentally egged on, but to my disappointment Lorenzo turned and disappeared into one of the other cars. I sighed, dropping my hands to let my eyes adjust to the darkness of the desert.
“All right pack it up. Meet down on the ground,” I commanded tiredly. At least we had been successful; we learned exactly what we needed to know about what Frankie was up to. Unfortunately, the weight of the upcoming war weighed down my shoulders, the tension radiating through my torso and head, the start of a headache forming as a dull thud pounded in my skull. It only took about ten minutes to get all of the equipment packed and rappelled down the side of the rock formation we had climbed, the other three men approaching in the two vehicles they had driven out from their hiding spots so we could load all the gear.
“We got news, Baby,” Brooks started as soon as we neared them. I ground my teeth and waited until he told me exactly what the bad news was. Based on his hard-set jaw and burning eyes, it was bad. “Just got a call from one of the guys. There’s been a fight between some of the hang arounds and…” He trailed off, grimacing. I cocked an eyebrow.
“And?” I rolled my hand in the air, too tired and cranky for them to be coddling me.
“Bambi, apparently,” Brooks finally finished.
I took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of my nose, the thudding in my head growing in intensity. Fucking blonde bimbo bitch.
“All right, I’ll take the equipment back to the house. You three go handle your shit. Chase”―I looked over at him―“go with them and see if you can track her down.”
“You got it, Kittycat,” Chase assured me with a brief kiss on my unbruised cheek. “I’ll let you know if I find her.” I nodded slightly, the motion aggravating the pain in my head.
“We’ll be back at the house soon, Kitten.” Garrett followed Chase’s lead, pressing a soft kiss to my lips before climbing into the SUV. Stone briefly brushed a hand over my back as he trailed behind Garrett, his lips curling ever so slightly as he looked down at me.
Holy hell, did Stone just smile at me or did I just imagine that? Do I have a brain tumor?
“I’ll send one of the officers back as soon as I can. I don’t want you alone for very long until we figure out what the fuck is going on. Be good, Baby,” Brooks murmured as he wrapped me in his arms, his lips brushing against my hair as he kissed the top of my head. I hummed an acknowledgment before pulling back. Ready to be home and in bed, I hopped into the empty vehicle and started making my way out of the barren Reno desert.
Fucking finally, I moaned in relief. The stress headache had grown too painful to drive with, so I pulled over, changed out of my camo, and stopped at an empty convenience store to pick up a cheap bottle of ibuprofen. After twenty minutes of me sitting with my head resting against the steering wheel in the abandoned parking lot, the throbbing eased. Throwing the truck in drive, I made it back to the house in less than fifteen minutes. Ah, home sweet home. I pulled the truck into the garage and looked back at the huge chunk of shit I was going to have to haul in. Scrunching my face, I came to the decision I’d have a beer first and then bring everything in. I mean, I totally earned a cold drink after having to spy on my father.
I left my boots on as I headed inside, not even bothering with putting the keys in the right spot, instead choosing to throw them on the counter on my way to the fridge. As soon as I had the door open, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and my senses sharpened. Spinning around, I yanked my Glock from my holster only to come face to face with the one person I never wanted to see in my house.
Jace Corden. How the fuck does he know where I live?
“Hello, Kiera,” he murmured with a wicked glint in his eye and a cruel slash of a smile on his marred face. “Put the gun down,” he commanded, the barrel of his weapon trained on my chest while mine was clutched tightly in my grasp. He had always been
faster than me.
Glaring, I dropped my arm to my side, holding back the urge to throw up or shoot him anyway and take the risk of being shot. Maybe I can stall until a better opportunity presents itself. Jace always did love to hear himself talk.
“Here to kill me?” I questioned with an eyebrow raise. His deep, cold chuckle bounced around the stone of the kitchen, bone deep fear settling into my stomach when I realized my men wouldn’t be home for god knew how long. Fucking shit, I growled, you’ve gotten out of shittier situations before, and you can do it now. With that thought, I crossed my arms defiantly and raised my chin.
“Of course, I’m not going to kill you,” Jace bit out, half in irritation and half in exasperation, as if he actually couldn’t believe I’d ask such a question. “I’ve come to take you home.”
“Speaking of home, how the fuck did you find mine?”
A smug smile crossed his lips and his good eye sparkled with mischief, unable to resist his pleasure at getting one over on me.
“I have contacts too, Kiera. People who will do anything for me. Or did you think you were the only one who could use their body to get what they wanted from people?”
Oh, this motherfucker!
“No, it wasn’t by sheer happenstance that I found this place. I had to go through a lot of contacts to find the right person.” By the way he said go through I had no doubt he meant he killed them.
“It’s a lovely house you have here. I’d ask for a tour, but I’ve seen it all before.”
My eyes widened with cold realization that I hadn’t been losing my shit. Someone had been in my house! I couldn’t let him know that he had rattled me, that would just give him the upper hand, and who knew what lengths he’d go to once he really started feeling proud of himself. Fuck that shit.
“Well, I’m glad you found it all to your liking, you sick fuck.”