Chapter 21
Chubs
Les and I lay low for a few days and give it time for his headaches to disappear. My hands still shake slightly when I think back to how close I came to losing my only blood brother. I never wanted to risk any of my family, but when I bring that up to Les, he refuses to listen. My only option is to minimize the risk to him the best I can and to maybe settle for less than I was hoping for in results.
Returning to our room, I drop into a chair in exhaustion. Les looks up from his laptop and studies me carefully. After a moment, he sets it aside and speaks.
“We can only do so much, Drew. There’re only two of us, and we’re up against a literal army of killers. Do you really think any of the Vero family is going to be concerned about Mom, Aria, and my whereabouts after all of this has happened? I think we could move away from here, and they’d not even care. They’re going to be busy rebuilding for a long time.”
“They’ll care because the Feds might eventually let it out that I’m still alive. They found me, so can Vero. They’ll come after any and all of us at that point. Keep in mind, it was me that was with Dad when he killed Dario Bianchi, and I was there when he was ordered to do it. He was the boss of the Bianchi family, and the Vero family wanted him dead. They knew I could put them away for life, and that’s why they came after me. Thinking I was dead is the only thing that kept them from using you, Mom, and Aria for leverage. We either have to kill them all, get the Bianchis to do it, or set them up for very long prison sentences,” I wearily answer.
“Which are we going to do? Killing them would be a permanent solution, but neither of us are straight-up killers. Depending on the situation, that is. The Bianchis have been doing a good job from their end so far, but it’s taking longer than I’d like. We have the information needed to set them up, so is that our game plan?”
“I think so. The biggest worry is that we get the information to law enforcement that’s not on the Vero payroll,” I reply.
“Let’s do it then.”
The next evening, we place all the items we’ve taken off our prisoners into a tote, and Les writes a letter explaining the contents. I leave the room long enough to procure us a vehicle, as in borrow one illegally. Stowing the tote in the trunk, we drive to the warehouse where our prisoners are living.
Entering, I set the tote near the door in plain sight. Moving rapidly, we toss wrapped sandwiches and bottles of water to our cuffed captives and ignore their comments. Keeping the lights low and our faces covered, their taunting knows no bounds. The most common insult thrown our way is being called cowardly Bianchis.
As I’m sliding a sandwich across the floor to a captive, I hear Leonardo running his mouth at Les. He’s taken his comments from threats of killing us to now threatening rape and death to our females.
“I get out of here, and your mom is going to be with a real man for the first time in her life! I’ll do her every way a… what the fuck is wrong with you?”
Turning, my mouth drops open at my brother’s response to Leonardo’s taunt. My calm, respected banker brother is beyond pissed, and his angry eyes tell me that. That isn’t what shocked me, though. It’s his actions that leave me speechless.
Les is staring hard at Leonardo while pissing into a water bottle. Finished, he caps it and tosses it within reach of our mouthy prisoner. Next, he drops his pants, opens the sandwich wrapper, and proceeds to rub his ass cheeks and then cock with the sandwich. Neatly rewrapping it, he slides it across the floor to a shocked Leonardo. Calmly wiping his hands off on his pants, he pulls them up, fastens them, and moves to the next prisoner. The next prisoner keeps his mouth shut.
I choke out a cough but restrain my laughter for the time being. Finished, we shut off the lights and relock the door on our way out. We get into the borrowed car and drive away. I make it about three blocks before pulling over and putting it in park. Turning, I look at my brother’s profile while he stares straight ahead.
“He pissed me off,” Les says with a shrug.
“I pissed you off plenty when we were kids! Please tell me you didn’t perfect your technique back then!” I nearly shout before I start laughing.
Still not looking at me, Les replies, “You’ll never know.”
I continue laughing, sometimes hysterically, on the way back to our room. Once there, I finally get control of it, and then Les speaks again.
“I’m taking a shower. I have a tomato stuck in my ass cheeks. Thank fucking God we didn’t ask for jalapenos to be added to those sandwiches.”
I lose it and roll on the bed, laughing as my brother shuts the bathroom door behind him. After I get it together, I return the car to where I found it and stop at a late-night deli on the walk back. I don’t order jalapenos on our sandwiches, but I do ask for extra tomatoes.
We wait a few hours, then Les makes the call as an anonymous tipster. With patience, he refuses to tell the person who answered anything until they put on a supervisor. When a captain comes on the line, Les explains what’s on the electronics, where to find them, and what prisoners are there. When he disconnects the call, he grins.
“The captain got a little excited when I explained they’re from the Vero crime family, and if he uses the information correctly, his department will get credit for the arrests and not the FBI. The city departments get tired of state and federal ones letting them do the dirty work, and then they step in for the credit and photo ops. I did warn him that I have duplicates of everything, so if nothing’s done, I’ll then contact the Feds instead. He couldn’t get off the phone fast enough. Turn on the TV.”
I flip it on, but instead of waiting for a news report, I walk outside the room for some fresh air. I’m sick of living out of hotel rooms, and the walls are starting to close in on me. Pulling a bag of licorice out of my back pocket, I chew slowly on a stick while thinking about Lucy.
I physically hurt when I think of never having her in my life again. There has to be a way to end this shit in Chicago and still have a life that’s worth living, even if she never speaks to me again. Maybe I could have a little luck, and she’d be willing to give me another chance. I can’t see it, though. I hurt, lied to, and abandoned her, and I don’t deserve her forgiveness, but that won’t stop me from begging. Sighing in frustration, I return to the room and wait to find out if our plan worked.
The next morning the news reports are filled with images of our former captives being led from the warehouse and placed in police vans. Les whoops, but I know we’re not done yet. There’s still the matter of the remaining federal agent from when I was a kid and the ones from Denver. I need more intel on them and to make a solid plan.
We spend the day scouring the internet for anything we can find on the original federal agent, Leo Fey. We find several things of interest and work together, piecing together what we can. Years earlier, Fey was fired but not charged with any crimes. That’s not surprising in the least. State and federal agencies hate letting the public know they have a problem employee, so they will often transfer or fire them but not charge them. It’s bad publicity, and they avoid it at all costs.
Digging deeper, we find an obituary for Leo Fey, stating he died of an apparent suicide. Whether it was or not, I don’t care. He’s no longer a worry for us. My main concern now is the two agents that harassed me in Denver. Are they legitimate about building a case, or are they dirty? If so, who do they work for?
What we find is that Jim Ruzzo and Dan Vetter are currently FBI agents assigned to the Chicago office. At least they didn’t lie about that. Eventually, we determine that Dan Vetter is the agent I shot at the safe house. There’s precious little information to be found about either. We’re going to have to go old school.
“We have to tail them,” I inform Les.
“And then what? If they’re legit, we’re looking at prison time if we snatch them up. If they’re not, what do we do with them?”
“I have no idea, but the only way to finish this up is to question one of them and find out what’s going on. We have a phone number. What are we out by calling them?” I question.
“Nothing, I guess. If they really are building a case against the Vero family, they don’t need you anymore. We just handed over all the evidence needed. If they still want you for some reason, I’d say they have other intentions, and those might determine how we proceed.”
“We need a car. I’m not a fan of riding bitch on that bike with you. How about renting one?” Les asks.
“Easily tracked. They ask for too much information nowadays.”
“Steal one, or borrow it like you prefer to call it?” Les queries with a grin.
“It’s risky but could be done again. I just hate taking something from someone that needs it, you know?”
“I have a friend that I can borrow one from. She’s not one to ask a lot of questions, but I’d have to tell her something.”
“Girlfriend?” I ask, surprised because Les hasn’t mentioned anyone like that.
“Not really. We hook up, but neither of us is looking for anything permanent. She works at a land title business, and we met through our companies working together. I can call her and ask,” Les suggests.
“I don’t like it, but we don’t have a lot of options, I guess. Even with the Vero family in chaos, I’d like to keep my identity hidden. You call her, and I’ll call the Feds,” I state and walk out of the room.
Leaning against the building, I dial the number and wait.
“Ruzzo.”
“Agent Ruzzo, how the fuck are you doing this fine Chicago day?” I ask in a sarcastic tone.
“Who’s this?” he barks.
“A man of many names, but you usually called me Brock.”
There’s silence for a few beats, then a sigh.
“What the fuck were you thinking? You came back here to where everyone you know wants to put your head on a stake, then shoot my partner, and I’m going to guess you’re behind the big bust for Chicago P.D. Do you have a fucking death wish, you dumbass? Fucking bikers. Not a brain amongst you all.”
“Wow. You’re a regular little Miss Mary Poppins, aren’t you? How did I not notice your sunny disposition before?” I say in a snarky voice.
“You shot a fucking FBI agent, you fucking psycho!” he shouts into the phone.
“You kidnapped my brother. Then your partner shot him in the head, and you think I’m going to just stand by and be okay with that?” I bark.
Another long silence before he breaks it, this time in a quieter tone.
“He shot your brother in the head? Holy fuck. Is he dead?”
“Would it matter to either of you if he were?” I fire back.
“Yeah, Brock, it would. He never said a word about shooting anyone. I just left his fucking house, and he never said a thing about that. Just said you snuck in, attacked, and shot him, then ran with your brother. Jesus Christ. Is your brother alive?”
“Yes, he is, and it’s the only reason you two are still breathing. Tell me now why you two wanted me so bad,” I demand.
“It’s a long story, but it’s all legit. Let’s meet up somewhere, and we can talk. No tricks, I promise. Vetter’s going to be laid up for a while, so it would only be me. I’m now working with C.P.D. on the Vero investigation that you got rolling. Helping fill in some gaps for them. Where and when can we meet? At this point, I’m not even sure we need your testimony,” Ruzzo states in a tired tone.
“Then why meet?” I ask suspiciously.
“So I can fill in the gaps for you too. You’ve earned it if what I’ve heard so far is true. You turned in a shit ton of evidence against the family.”
“I’ll call you back if I decide to take you up on your offer,” I say as I disconnect the call.
Explaining to Les what Ruzzo had to say, he thinks it over for a moment before shrugging his shoulders.
“I’d like to have the rest of the puzzle pieces.”
“Me too, but not if it’s another set-up,” I say.
“We have a car to use. Melanie said I can borrow it whenever I want.”
Uneasy about it but wanting to finish this up, I nod.
“I’ll drop you a block away and meet you back here.”
Les in his friend’s car and me on the bike locate and surveil Ruzzo. We located him leaving work and followed him to his home. With us rotating, I don’t think he realized he was being followed, but I’m not positive. That makes me nervous, but Les was sure he didn’t.
Sitting on him for over a day, I find nothing suspicious about his routine. While Les keeps an eye on Ruzzo’s movements, I find Vetter’s home and watch it for hours. A woman comes and goes, but the only sighting of Vetter was through a window. He was reclined in a chair and didn’t leave it. I was too far away to tell how injured he was, but I did watch the woman bring him food and drinks. If he’s home and not in a hospital still, I must not have done too much damage.
Meeting back up with Les, we come to the agreement to meet with Ruzzo. Making the call, he gives me an address and a time to meet him. I immediately race to the location, thinking it would be a restaurant or bar, but it’s not. It’s an abandoned lot in the middle of an old industrial district. The buildings surrounding the area have all gone to hell, and none are in use for anything other than shady business. The homes in the nearby neighborhood appear to be vacant or crack houses. I instantly know that Ruzzo has no intentions of Les or me leaving here alive. Riding back to the hotel, I know what I have to do.
“I’m going, but you’re not,” I inform my angry brother.
“That’s just suicide, Drew! With two of us, we have a chance to finish this thing and lead normal lives! This isn’t just about you. We have Aria and Mom’s futures to think about too,” Les argues.
“Exactly! One of us needs to be breathing for their sake, and that falls on you.”
I hadn’t told my brother about the layout of the meeting place or my suspicions, but he must have read between the lines. As soon as I told him I was going it alone, he lost his shit. Finally, I gave up pretending it was just a meeting and tried the truth instead. Since then, we’ve been battling it out, and I’m not sure I’ll win against his stubbornness.
“I’m not letting you do this alone,” Les states firmly, hands landing on his hips.
“Ruzzo isn’t going to show up alone, Les! He’s going to bring whoever he’s working with or for, and I’m not going to be the cause of your death!” I shout in frustration.
I didn’t realize how loud we’d gotten until someone in the room next to ours bangs on the wall. Taking a deep breath, I fight to rein in my temper. Les glances at the wall and then rubs his hands over his face in an angry motion.
“I got this. You need to head to Denver and take care of the women. They need you, Les, and there’s a good chance I’ll walk away from this. Maybe it is just a meeting, and I’m jumping to the wrong conclusion.”
“Fuck you, and stop patronizing me!” Les barks loudly.
“I’m not! I’m trying to be positive, you twit!” I holler back.
The knock on the door startles both of us, and we each reach for our handguns. Taking up opposite sides of the door, Les says, “Yeah?”
“Quit your fucking shouting before the LEOs are called, you simple fucks. Open the damn door, or I’m kicking it in,” a familiar voice growls.
In shock, I lean back, move the curtain, and look outside the window. There stands several members of The Devil’s Angels, and not one looks happy. Well, fuck, this has taken an ugly turn. I may not even live long enough to meet with Ruzzo.
I indicate for Les to step back and to lower his weapon. Turning, I take a deep breath and unlock the door. The second I do, it’s shoved open, and Gunner, followed by the others, storms into the room. Last inside is Vex, and he shuts the door then leans his back against it, crossing his arms over his chest.
The punch lands on the left side of my jaw, and I stumble back into Les, who keeps me standing. When he moves to shove me to the side, I put my arm out in front of him and shake my head no.
“Nice punch, old man,” I say to a fuming Trigger while rubbing my jaw with one hand.
“It’s going to be the first of many, Chubs,” he warns while shaking out his hand.
“Chubs? Who the fuck are you to bust in—” Les bellows but is cut off when Gunner places a hand in front of Trigger and speaks in a quiet, deadly voice.
“Stop. Time for that later, Trigger. We’ll make sure there’s plenty of time for that later, in fact. Right now, we have somewhere to be. You two will be riding in the van. The rest of us will follow and get set up. We need to hurry so we’re there before they are. Let’s go.”
We’re herded outside to a waiting van with Horse as the driver. My brother and I are assisted, that being a polite term for shoved, inside with the door slamming shut instantly. I take a seat and lean against the side wall, watching Les do the same.
“Address?” Horse asks, and I give it to him.
“Please tell me these assholes aren’t your club brothers. I saw their vests, but they’re not acting like you’re one of them,” Les says angrily. “You sent our women to them! What the fuck, Drew!”
“Cuts, not vests, and yes, they are,” I answer, then shrug. “I broke club rules. Their behavior is expected. Don’t antagonize them, Les, because even though I’m out bad, they’ve protected the women, and they’re here now to help.”
“When you say ‘our women’ you best mean your brother’s wife and mother-in-law or something close to that. If you’ve been leading Lucy on, things are going to get painful for you,” Rex states calmly from the passenger seat.
“Hey, Rex. No need to ask if you’re the one who found me. But how the fuck did you do it? I’ve been so careful,” I ask, curious about the answer and where I fucked up.
“I tracked the buffet lines and food shortages across the U.S.,” Rex says.
“Fuck you!” Les barks in outrage, but I chuckle.
“Where did I mess up?” I question again.
“I taught you only a tiny portion of what I know about computers, tracking, finding people, and all that other good stuff. I am the master, and you are but a student. The women? Let’s talk about them now.”
“Our sister and mother. Thank you for keeping them safe,” I answer softly.
“They are safe, aren’t they? That big fucker didn’t beat our whereabouts out of them, did he?” Les asks with concern.
I kick him in the leg and return his glare.
“The big guy, I’m assuming you mean Gunner, or it could be Cash. Either way, the answer is yes. Of course, they’re safe. We may wear cuts and ride bikes, but we’re not into abusing women. Are you sure he’s your brother, Chubs? He seems a little angry,” Rex says with a small laugh.
“Second time I’ve been kidnapped, and it grates on my nerves, okay?” Les says sarcastically. I kick him a second time and a little harder than before.
“We haven’t kidnapped you. We’re here as your backup to hopefully increase your survival chances. We hauled ass from Denver to do that, closing businesses, and leaving our families behind just so we could help you out of a tough spot. You’re welcome,” Rex replies, still in a calm, unruffled voice.
“Shit. Sorry,” Les mumbles.
“Park here, Horse. We’ll go the rest of the way on foot,” Rex orders, then closes his laptop and bails out the door.
I climb out of the van, followed by my brother, and wait for the others to join us. As soon as they do, Gunner starts barking orders. Everyone jumps to comply, with Les and I trailing behind Gunner and Cash.
“You both armed?” Cash questions quietly.
“Yeah, we’re good,” I reply.
Rex catches up and hands Les and me each a bulletproof vest. We put them on and cover them with our hoodies. I take a moment to double-check my handgun, waiting for Les to do the same. Once we’re set, Gunner lays out the plan that we’re to follow. When Cash receives a text, he tells us it’s time to get into place.
Horse passes us with the empty van, pulls it into the vacant lot, removes the license plate, and climbs inside. Les and I walk to it and climb into the front seats. Since we got here so early to prepare, we have a long wait, and that’s the hard part.
A few hours pass before I hear a ding from the phone Horse set near me. Picking it up, I read the message and reply.
“Cars are coming. Three of them in a line. Remember our job, Les. Stay calm and duck for cover if shit goes sideways.”
“I’m ready. Be careful, brother. Don’t want to attend another of your funerals.”
Horse chokes out a laugh but quiets when headlights flash across the windshield. Only one car pulls into the vacant lot, and it parks a few spaces over from the van, slightly forward of us. I open my door partway and wait to see who exits the car. When the driver’s door opens, I watch Ruzzo step out. I do the same, with Les following suit.
Ruzzo approaches and holds his hand out. I grasp it and shake hands with the man who turned my world upside down when he appeared in Denver. When he turns to shake hands with Les, I see movement in the passenger side of his car.
“Who’s your friend?” I ask casually.
“Vetter. He wanted to come tonight and explain his side of things. I hope that’s alright?” Ruzzo questions in the same casual tone I used.
I watch as Vetter slowly, carefully climbs from the car. He briefly leans against the side of it before skirting the hood and walking in our direction. I can’t help the grin I flash him at his obvious discomfort. He instantly scowls and gives a small grunt.
“Everyone’s here. Explain,” Les orders in a gruff voice.
“Right to the point. I like that,” Ruzzo says with a smile. “We are FBI agents, and we were building a case against the Vero family. During our research, we came across your case file. How the U.S. Marshalls took possession of you and how you were killed in a car accident that resulted in an explosion. The report was sketchy, so we decided to dig a little deeper. Your father had been no help whatsoever, but the report indicated that you had been a willing witness. It was too coincidental that you died when you did. Nothing was adding up, especially after looking into the two Marshalls and what became of them.”
When Ruzzo stops speaking and glances around, I tense. Then Vetter speaks up for the first time.
“The Marshalls were working on the side of the Vero family. Making a shit load of money doing it too. They had to do very little for that money except to make you disappear, and they fucked that up. Of course, no one knew they did for several years. They reaped their rewards from the Veros and started living a good life. Then the agency decided to try for another case against the mafia controlling Chicago. We were assigned to it and got busy. Nothing came of it for quite some time, and then by accident, we knew the Veros had been played.”
“How?” Les asks impatiently.
Vetter ignores Les and types into his phone instead. Ruzzo speaks, and his words finally explain how they found me.
“I came across a picture of a charity event that had nothing to do with our investigation. Some political charity event that included several governors, including the Illinois governor. Hence, why the article was in the Chicago papers. I don’t even know why I was reading the article in the first place, but I saw a guy in the picture that looked very familiar. It took me a few days to figure out why. It was you, and I had just been reading your case file. Pictures of you at various ages growing up were included.”
Thinking back, I know the event he’s talking about. Usually at those things, I kept a low profile and away from the spotlight easily enough. But the photographer at that one was after candid shots instead of the usual staged ones and was popping up with her camera everywhere. I even left the event early because of her. I should have left even earlier.
“On a hunch, we flew to Denver and located the man that was dating the governor’s daughter,” Ruzzo explains with a smirk.
I see the headlights of two cars turn into the lot, and I know our conversation is at its end. Stepping closer to Les, I look at Vetter as an evil smile crosses his face. I’m surprised when Vetter continues to explain.
“We weren’t dirty in the beginning, but when we realized what you’d be worth to the Veros, we decided we needed to cash in on that. Our goal was to get you back to Chicago and let them know we had you, but you wouldn’t work with us on that. You made things very difficult for us. Luckily, we hadn’t told Emilio Vero about you because they’d have taken care of it themselves, and our lives would have been worth nothing. But, as you can now see, we did contact him today, and he insisted on seeing you himself.”
As Vetter was talking, I watch six men, all in suits, step out of the cars. Scanning their faces, I recognize most. Emilio Vero, his only living son, Rocky, two of his capos, and the two drivers whose names I don’t know.
“You are looking well for a dead man, Adriano Zanetti,” Emilio says with a flash of white teeth. “Is it you I should thank for all the troubles the families have been having lately?”
“Emilio. Rocky. It’s been a while,” I reply with my own grin. “Your troubles are your own doing, not mine.”
“Your father would not be happy with your choices,” Emilio states, and the warning in his voice is clear to all.
“My father made his choices, is still making them, and that’s loyalty to you above all others. He took the oath and has held it all these years.”
“Yes, he has, but he always had a blind spot for his two sons. He never saw what the rest of us did. Neither of you were going to be a part of the family as he was hoping,” Emilio replies.
“No, we weren’t. I need to ask this out of morbid curiosity. What is my life worth these days? More than it was before when you hired the first two to end me? Has inflation hit the mob too? Or do you feel you paid once and shouldn’t have to a second time? Because I gotta say, I’d be pissed at having to pay these two jackasses after already shelling out the first time. And why pay them when you’re here and can do it yourself?” I ask brazenly.
“Seems like a waste to pay them, and then always wonder if they’ll double-cross you somewhere down the road. Another thing to consider is that they’ve known about Adriano for a long time and only now told you. They were building a case to take you down, trying to use my brother, but he refused to help them,” Les adds.
“Shut the fuck up!” growls Ruzzo, making a quick move toward us to most likely try to force our silence.
Emilio chuckles carelessly, but his drivers take a step forward, hands hovering under their suit coats, stopping Ruzzo’s advance.
“We think alike, young Zanettis. Maybe you would have made good capos. You certainly had us chasing our tails for a while there. Unfortunately, by doing that, we’ve made even bigger enemies of the Bianchis, and our numbers are now reduced. You’ve made a mess of things for us, and that can’t be forgiven,” Emilio says in a chilling voice.
“You ordered Dario Bianchi’s death, so I’m thinking that’s why they’re your enemy and not something you think I may have done,” I respond.
“Then you understand how I deal with people who cross me. They aren’t left alive to do it twice,” Emilio says.
“We took out several of their men lately, and now I’m pissed that it was you we should have eliminated. We need to cut our losses and get busy rebuilding. You won’t be the only ones to pay for your crimes, though. You’ve made a deadly mistake in thinking you could take us on and win. Everyone you love will pay,” Rocky states while staring at me with dead eyes.
With a slight flick of his hand, Emilio signals his men. The first shot rings out, and Ruzzo hits the ground, round hole in the middle of his forehead. Second shot takes down Vetter, but he’s alive long enough to scream before the third shot stops the noise.
When I see the handguns being raised, I shove Les toward the side of the van. He scrambles behind it as I follow on his heels. At this point, all hell breaks loose. Bullets are tinging off the van and ground around my brother and me. Forcing Les behind the engine block the best I can, I lean out enough to see all six Vero men advancing.
A barrage of bullets comes from all directions around us, and yet none hit the men. It stops their approach, though, and has them spinning in every direction, looking for where the shots came from. Several more shots ring out, striking the ground near their feet, and the men start to retreat toward their cars.
I’m stunned because several of my club brothers are great shots, especially Pooh, but my surprise ends quickly enough. Blue and red flashing lights descend on the vacant lot from three directions. My brother and I, along with the Veros, are quickly surrounded by SWAT vehicles. I instantly drop my handgun and order Les to do so too, then we raise our hands high, still keeping the van between us and the Vero men.
Emilio and Rocky race toward their car, firing at the police vehicles as they go. They make it inside, start the car, and spin in a half-circle before speeding toward the exit. The other four men try to make the same move but get cut off by a SWAT vehicle. Police, rifles lifted, bail out of the vehicle, and quickly have the four men subdued.
A rifle barks, making each of the cops dive for cover, but it’s Emilio’s car tire that’s the intended target. A second round is immediately fired, and the car swerves then crashes into an electric pole, bringing it to a harsh halt. When no more gunshots ring out, several cops converge on the wrecked car. Within moments, Emilio and Rocky are cuffed and being led away. The other cops scan the area while fanning out, searching for the shooter.
During this, Horse climbed from the van and is standing in the same position as I am, hands raised. Two SWAT members approach cautiously, bright lights in our eyes, rendering it hard to see. None of us resist when they push us up against the van and cuff us.
While the numerous cops secure the scene, I hear Harleys fired up and riding away in the distance. I stay leaning against the van, silent, until an officer pulls me around to face him.
“I’m Lt. Peters. I’m in charge of the Chicago Police Department SWAT Team. Your name?”
“Adriano Zanetti.”
“What happened here tonight?” he asks.
“I can show you everything. It’s all on the dash camera,” Horse informs the SWAT leader.
The Lieutenant nods at another officer who listens to Horse for a moment, enters the van, and returns with the small camera.
“You’ll be transported to the station until we can view this and sort through the crime scene,” Lieutenant Peters informs us before calling over another officer to help.
Hours later, Horse, Les, and myself are released after answering some questions and handing over our phone numbers. The van has been released back to us, so we load up and head back to our hotel. Exhausted, I enter my room and find Cash and Rex sitting at the small table.
“Where’s everyone else?” I ask as Les brushes past on his way to the bathroom.
“Next room over, catching up on sleep,” Rex answers, looking up from his laptop for a moment.
“You look like shit, Chubs,” Cash states without looking up from his meal.
“Yeah, I feel it too. Not sure I understand what happened earlier. Lots of flying bullets, and yet none hit their targets.”
“Our shots were to keep them guessing about a larger attack and to keep them looking for us, not killing you and your brother. Keeps us out of the police investigation and off everyone’s radar. Cops ask you about that?” Cash asks.
“Yeah. They’re fucking confused as hell about that. They’re assuming the Bianchis caught wind of the meeting and decided to join the party,” I answer.
“You need to dye that fucking ginger out of your hair. It’s kind of freaking me the fuck out,” Rex mutters.
“What happens now?” I ask, tired of making small talk.
“We return to Denver with you, and the club votes on your punishment,” Cash says with a touch of anger.
“What about my family?” I ask curiously.
“What about them? They’re not our problem. They’re yours. Are they going to be in danger here now, or has that been taken care of?” Cash questions, finally looking up and making eye contact.
“The police are rounding up what’s left of the Vero crime family members, and my family shouldn’t be in danger from the other mafia families. They should be safe here now,” I reply while taking a seat on the end of my bed.
“Then that answers your question. They’re not our prisoners, Chu… Adriano. They can leave anytime they want. Call them and let them know,” Cash suggests.
“Maybe they should stay there until we get back and can talk with them,” Les says as he walks out of the bathroom, wiping his face with a towel.
“You’re going to Denver too?” I ask, surprised.
“Of course I am. I want to meet Lucy and help explain why you did what you did,” Les says in a quiet voice. “Maybe if she meets your family, she’ll understand better.”
I feel a little hope flutter in my chest region, but I don’t let it grow.
“Has she met my mom and sister yet?” I ask Cash.
“No. Didn’t know who they were to you, and we didn’t want to cause Lucy more pain if one of them was your wife or fiancé or what the fuck ever,” Cash barks in irritation.
I cringe then laugh at the thought of one of them being my wife but sober quickly enough when Cash goes into full-on Viking glower mode.
“Don’t piss off the big blond guy, brother. I don’t like you enough to risk it all to go up against him,” Les advises as he flops on his back on his bed.
The door opens and in file my club brothers. I brace when Trigger walks past, expecting another punch, but he ignores me, taking a place against the wall. Looking at each, I note that some meet my eyes, some don’t. Pooh gives me a small grin while Pigeon shoots a wink in my direction. Petey stops in front of me and waits until my eyes find his before speaking.
“Happy as fuck to see you’re whole. Was worried about you but pissed as fuck too. Love you as my club brother, always will, but you don’t deserve Lucy.”
With that, he moves past and leans against the wall near Trigger.
“Where’s Axel?” I ask, suddenly realizing he’s not here.
“He stayed home to keep an eye on things since we didn’t know if trouble was coming that direction or not. He also just got out of the hospital—appendicitis—and not healed enough for the ride. Lots has happened since you deserted your club and woman. All of which we’ll discuss when we get home. Grab your shit, and let’s hit the road,” Gunner orders.
I do as I’m told, as does Les, and we’re in the van, Horse driving, within half an hour. I salute the sign indicating that we’re leaving the Chicago city limits and, soon after, fall asleep.