CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE ASHTON
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
ASHTON
We’d slept through the rest of the morning.
I was sitting on the edge of the bed. Molly was still conked out behind me. She’d fallen asleep after our last time, so I’d moved her, positioning her back under the sheets, but I couldn’t sleep. My body was a mix of satisfaction, exhaustion, and also readiness for whatever was to come.
I liked this next stage. Not in a Mafia war, but in our businesses. I enjoyed where the next move was ours to make, where our adversary was wary, where we were the predators. But the stakes were different here.
They’d hit us last night, and before we’d even retired to our separate bedrooms, Trace and I had already coordinated our attack.
Each of us still handled what our families handled before, with Trace’s family covering transportation and distribution and mine handling the cops and higher-ups, but it was different now that he and I were the heads.
We could coordinate better. There was no more needed time to call for a meeting or to decipher if that was necessary.
Trace and I just did it. Together. We made the decisions where to hit, how to hit, whose men would do the hits.
We no longer had “boards” or “uncles” to get permission from in order to make an order.
Our men were dispatched with their missions, and a part of me was up, waiting for the notice that they were successful.
My phone buzzed, and I was expecting that text.
I got something else instead.
Avery: Keeping you updated. Your cousin and his guest left an hour after you did. I put a tracker on his car. Here’s the link for his coordinates.
I checked it, and Marco was at Katya. What the hell?
I was standing, reaching for my clothes, when my phone buzzed again.
Trace: You awake? We need to talk.
Me: Give me two minutes.
Trace: Dress to leave. I’ll be in the garage waiting.
I hurried to dress. When I was done, Molly was awake, watching me. The sheet was tucked over her chest, under her arms.
“Hi.”
She looked rested. There were shadows under her eyes, but overall, she looked better than the night before. “I have to go.”
She nodded, solemn. “I figured.”
“I think Jess is still here.”
She nodded, again. The bags under her eyes looked more pronounced. “I want to talk to Pialto and Sophie.”
I frowned.
She was reading my expression, and she sat up, keeping the sheet tucked under her arms. “I won’t leave.
I won’t do anything else, but they’re my family.
That’s nonnegotiable. If you don’t let me talk to them, I’ll sneak out myself, and don’t think I won’t be able to.
I have crazy cat burglar skills, except breaking out, not in. ”
My gut tightened. “Wait for me to come back or arrange something. Please.”
“What if Jess takes me?”
“I’d prefer you waited for me. Montell tends to run toward bullets when she hears them. I’d like for you to run away from the gunfire.”
“Okay. I’ll wait for you.”
I gave her a nod, still studying her because ... I didn’t know why.
Because I didn’t want to leave her. Because I thought she would find a way to get in trouble the second I left. Because ... I liked being around her.
Goddamn. My gut was tightening all over again, but I left without a goodbye.
Elijah was at the kitchen door when I came through. He had a fully cleaned gun ready for me. I took it as I walked past, heading into the garage. Our other men were there, and all moved into their places.
Trace’s men were in his car. Elijah would get into a following SUV this time.
I’d ride with Trace. All of this was already worked out.
I grunted in greeting to Pajn and Demetri, Trace’s men, and I slipped into the back seat. Demetri shut my door, then climbed into the front next to Pajn.
“What’s going on?”
Trace let out a long sigh, showing me his phone.
I read the message.
Unknown Number: This is Nicolai Worthing.
We were informed this morning that members of the Walden Family shot and killed three of my men.
Upon inspection, we saw the aggressors were my men.
I’m reaching out for a meet. This is an act of good faith.
I did not send my men to kill Ashton and his guest. I have not broken the ceasefire. Will you accept my invitation?
The next text was the location and details.
“He’s going to make himself vulnerable to us.”
Trace took his phone back, putting it away. “I believe that’s the point.”
“Also a nice incriminating text to any authority reading your messages.”
“Yes, he’s letting whatever authorities watching us know that he was not behind his men coming for you.”
“Marco is fucking your sister.”
“What?” Trace’s head whipped to mine.
“After everything that happened, I forgot to tell you. He brought her to our compound.”
He shifted so he was turned more toward me. “The compound that even I don’t know where it is? The one that you have mixed emotions about. You hate, but you use anyways. That place?”
I shot him a grin, ignoring the latter part. “He reassures me that she doesn’t, either, but we both know your sister. She probably set a building on fire behind her.”
He shifted back, sitting beside me. His tone was resigned. “Destruction does tend to follow her wherever she goes.” I could almost hear him grinding his teeth. “They’re actually sleeping together?”
“I asked if he was fucking her”—I ignored his swift intake of air—“and he said yes.”
“Shit.”
“And they’re at Katya right now.”
“How do you know?”
“Avery put a tracker on Marco.”
Trace growled. “I don’t know which I’m more frustrated about, your cousin or that my sister is at our nightclub after we’ve told her to stay away.”
I grunted. “I think the latter. Remmi’s more likely to destroy Marco, so I’m not too worked up about the two of them. Though, I’m wondering if I should ask the details how that started or if I don’t actually need to know. I know I don’t want to know. I told him to stop sleeping with her.”
“He’s your blood, so I’m not expecting that to happen.”
I smirked. It was true.
Trace rubbed at his forehead. “She’s been a mess since our dad’s death. She was never close to Uncle Steph, but she was clinging to hope that our dad would someday actually be a dad. To her credit, he was somewhat loving to her.”
Neither of us were commenting on the details surrounding his father’s death. Remmi didn’t know any of that, and she wouldn’t if it were up to Trace.
“She’s in mourning, reaching out to who was receptive.”
“That makes me worried that Marco was receptive.”
“Not me. He’s always had a thing for her.”
I ignored Trace as he turned to observe me again. “Since when?”
“Since forever. He took her to prom.”
“That was a pity date.”
I shot him a look. “That wasn’t a pity date.”
“Are you serious? You’ve known all these years he had a thing for her, and you never told me?”
“She’s always had a thing for me, so no. Why would I?”
“What? You and her?”
I scowled. “I never went there. Nor would I. Your sister is, one, your sister, and two, like a sister to me. A bratty, young, ‘somewhat materialistically spoiled because she’s not spoiled in the getting-love-and-attention way’ kind of sister. I’ve cleaned up more of her messes than you.”
He relaxed a little. “That’s true. You have.”
“You’re welcome, by the way.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“She is your sister.”
He groaned. “That’s true.” A pause. “Thank you.”
“What’s the plan going into this meeting?”
He gave me a look this time. “I thought I’d let you handle it while I sit back and observe.”
I smiled, liking that a lot . “Excellent.” It was time to make some people bleed. We were leaning into our strengths. I liked hurting, and Trace enjoyed analyzing.
We were the West and Walden Mafia family. If I were Nicolai Worthing, I’d be scared.
I couldn’t wait.