Chapter 27
Cook
I didn’t mind a good time in Las Vegas, but sadly, we weren’t here for a good time.
No booze or drugs.
No girls, not that I wanted any skanky Vegas piece-of-ass now, anyway.
No gambling, except with our lives.
Wilde swung off his motorcycle first, and the rest of us followed. I checked over my shoulder, up and down the street in the middle of the high rises that littered Vegas. So much for backroom card games and speakeasies from the old mob movies. The Mafia had found other holds here.
I glanced up at the name of the place.
Parisi Hotel and Casino.
Of course, he fucking owned one of the tallest places on the strip.
Celt checked his watch and then nodded. Wilde walked forward first. Celt, Angel, and I trailed. As much as I wanted to bring more men, Massimo had given us direct orders. We had the Warden staking out the place electronically, but I wanted more boots on the ground.
The silver automatic doors swept back as we stepped inside the high rise that was too gray and white. It was like we had entered a new hospital. Even down to the soft classical music playing overhead. I kicked orange dust off the heels of my shoes, leaving it on the floor of the reception.
“Good afternoon,” said the woman at reception. She wore a dark dress tight to her body, and her hair was pulled back into a severe bun. “You must be the gentlemen from The Ridge motorcycle club.”
No shit, Sherlock! I checked over my shoulder again. Is Massimo expecting another MC?
“You’ll need to sign in,” said the receptionist, holding out a tablet. “It’s for safety reasons, of course.”
“What kind of safety?” asked Celt.
“In case of fire,” said the receptionist, a practiced response. How many times had she had to say it before? “Also, all weapons must be left at the desk.”
I snapped my gaze to her, and I wasn’t the only one. Everyone in our group was staring at her like she’d just walked off a spaceship and informed us she was here to take over Earth.
She didn’t lean back. This was probably another thing she had to ask on the regular, but this wasn’t because of a fucking fire hazard. I reached for my gun in the back of my waistband, staring around. We were close enough to our motorcycles to make a clean getaway. We didn’t need this damn business with the Mafia.
Then again, my mom was somewhere hidden amid these white-washed walls.
“We’ll lock them up, and you’ll be able to retrieve them once your meeting with Mr. Parisi is over,” said the receptionist.
We all looked to Wilde, who was contemplating it. His lips were pursed, and his eyes were narrowed on the receptionist, like he could smell her lie. She smiled at him kindly and waited expectedly. This was just another day at the office for her.
Wilde withdrew his gun from the back of his pants and then placed it on the counter. Celt and Angel followed. Finally, I did too. I had already lost my gun once and that was how we’d landed in this shitshow. I hated to do it again, this time deliberately. At least Maddie wasn’t here. She was safe with Bou and Melanie. We just needed to worry about Mom.
The receptionist held open bags one-by-one for each of us to drop our guns inside, then she tucked them into a cabinet and locked the door.
Once the guns were checked in and locked away, she led us to the elevator and rode all the way up the high rise with us. The soft classical music playing over the elevator speakers made me want to rip my hair out, but I held my hands in my pockets.
This had to be the longest elevator ride ever. At least the receptionist stood at the front of the group. It gave me a little assurance that there wasn’t an immediate fire coming when the doors opened. She let us out and then said, “Mr. Parisi and the others are through those doors. I’ll see you back downstairs in a bit.” She smiled as the elevator doors closed.
“How pleasant,” I muttered.
Celt snorted a laugh. I knew my best friend would have my back.
Wilde walked ahead, and the rest of us moved like a pack of wolves, stalking down the white halls illuminated in dim light and abstract art. Again, too sterile. We probably left a trail of dust and sand in our wake like fucking Hansel and Gretel. This hallway was far too fake and unlivable.
It needed life breathed into it.
The white doors waited at the end of the hallway, and Wilde pushed them open. They banged against the walls, and the Mafia stared at us with disdain etching lines into their faces. I almost laughed. They’d brought us here, but they were the ones who looked like ghosts.
Massimo stood off to the side as the interim Don, Enzo Gambino, waited at the head of the table. I recognized his ugly mug from the video and the photos the Warden had dug up on the family, and I recalled a video of him ushering Amaranta Gambino into a car. My skin itched. My pointer finger twitched as though it wanted to pull the trigger on the gun that’d end that man. Anyone who supported Signora needed to die.
But I left my hands at my sides, scanning the room for Mom.
Other capos waited around the table, drinking coffee from tiny cups. I expected pinkies to pop up at any moment.
Don Enzo Gambino arched an eyebrow, like he wasn’t expecting us, and I checked Celt and then Wilde. Did they sense how wrong this felt? I eyed Massimo Parisi, who smirked like a shark about to attack. Then I studied each capo around the table.
Half of them were angry and the other half looked like they were waiting for a spa appointment. What the actual fuck had we just walked into?
“What are you doing here?” demanded Enzo. “How did you get in?”
Wilde stood taller, all of us on alert. I reached for my gun, but yeah, it wasn’t there. Fuck, all of these men had to be packing. I wasn’t a man to run away with my tail between my legs, but I also couldn’t leave Maddie out in the world alone. Neither could any of my brothers leave their girls. Bou was fucking pregnant! What the fuck did Massimo Parisi have in his back pocket?
At the same time this shit danced through my brain, I needed to save my mother from whatever the fuck she thought she was doing here. I peeked outside the door, but there wasn’t a kitchen in sight. She must be somewhere else in this building because the décor definitely matched what I’d seen in that video of her.
Enzo leaned back in the chair at the head of the table and swiveled it around to face the man who brought us here. “Clever, Parisi.”
With his words, the capos sitting around the table, who had seemed nervous before, now relaxed.
Parisi smirked at Enzo and gave a half-shrug, as if to say, My pleasure.
Enzo continued, “You call us here to make plans for revenge on the people who murdered Tommy’s queen.” He stood and pressed his fingertips to the table, leaning forward to stare off with Wilde.
Dude had a death wish.
“But at the same time, you get them here and weaponless, if your receptionist did her job.”
I growled.
Enzo slapped a smug smile on his face and looked over at me. “So, they’re ripe for the picking.”
My hand snaked behind my back, wishing for my piece, and Enzo chuckled.
“It seems your girl followed protocol, Parisi. Nice work.”
My eyes drifted over to Massimo Parisi, who seemed to bristle at the condescending tone in Enzo’s voice. I’d be pissed too if someone patronized me that way.
All of our hands were in plain sight and theirs were on the table, so maybe we could get out of here without bloodshed.
“We have a meeting,” Wilde said.
Enzo worked his jaw, dark eyes narrowed. “With who?”
“With me.” Massimo strolled behind Enzo, but the interim Don didn’t take his eyes off Wilde.
The capos moved uncomfortably in their seats, checking left and right. Enzo shouldn’t have been Don, because the man couldn’t see what was happening right in front of his face. Enzo’s stupidity only proved Tommy Gambino was still somehow pulling strings from a jail cell.
Whether their wannabe Don could see it or not, this group was about to splinter. A cavern would open up, and we, along with this ivory tower, would fall in. Fuck.
The receptionist only asked about guns, but we always made it a point to bring more than guns when danger might be involved. However, my knife seemed small when staring at the number of capos in the room.
I cut a glance at Angel, wondering if he had that wicked hunting knife he liked to use on his body. He met my gaze with a slight lift of his chin. I had been in bar fights before with some very burly men, and the twigs sitting around this table should be easy marks.
Most of them anyway. There were a couple I worried about, though, like the one nearest Parisi who almost busted out of the suit he wore. That’d be like shoving Sas or Celt into a three piece.
That made me snigger, and Wilde pressed an elbow into my arm.
Yeah, it wasn’t the time, and I knew that.
“What have you done, Massimo?” spat Enzo, a dim light bulb seemingly flickering to life.
“Don’t be stupid, Enzo,” replied Massimo. “You know exactly what I am doing. I’ve never been one to hide behind niceties or propriety.”
“You’re planning to take la Famiglia from me,” demanded Enzo, seething so hard his jowls shook.
“That is what interim means.” Massimo stood straighter, his thick body hovering over Enzo. Parisi might be older, probably nearing sixty, but even in his suit, he had shape that suggested he spent hours in a gym.
“I’m thinking,” Massimo continued, “la Famiglia needs a bit of fresh blood in the upper ranks.”
Enzo snorted. “You’re proposing tearing the family apart.”
“I propose a transformation. And I’m not alone.” Massimo placed his palms on the table, looking down the length at the capos and then at us on the far end.
“Traitors,” spat Enzo, rounding the table.
The capos swung their attention between the two Dons—the interim old man and the soon-to-be new leader of la Famiglia.
The four of us seemed forgotten by most in the room as we watched what appeared to be the start of a full-blown Mafia war. I stepped up beside Wilde, in front of Celt, and then took a step back, indicating we should GTFO while the getting was good.
“How long have you been planning this?” Enzo asked Massimo. His eyes were wide, like he knew he had been caught. “Leone never mentioned this.”
“We’ve been keeping your son quite busy, Enzo,” said Massimo in a bored tone. “Leone is in LA at the moment for Tommy’s trial.”
And where Maddie and the others would be heading...
I couldn’t focus on her now.
Parisi smirked at the interim Don. “Leone, in fact, has been doing a bang-up job of making sure Tommy doesn’t see his way out of prison anytime soon.”
Enzo’s face contorted and turned beet red, and I wondered if he might start blowing steam out of his ears like one of those ancient cartoons. He reached into his pocket, and so did every man who’d been siting calmly around the table.
“I wouldn’t,” said Parisi.
Enzo held up his hands, surrender-style, and everyone sat back in the leather chairs.
“Distraction made your brother weak. Like you,” said Massimo. “You both made things almost easy to take over la Famiglia. You left the door wide open.”
I urged us back another step toward the door, thinking they hadn’t noticed us yet.
Done with his apparent taunting, Parisi turned to the table of capos. “You have two choices, my men: Enzo or me. I should say that I already have the numbers.” He paused for effect, allowing about two-thirds of the men around the table to nod their agreement. “I made sure I had enough loyalty in my corner before calling this little meeting, even without the MC brothers who’ve agreed to a partnership.”
Parisi held out a hand as though presenting us to the room. “MC. So you’re either in or...” He inclined his head to the floor-to-ceiling windows, his meaning clear. The capos who went against him would go flying.
“Fuck that!” Enzo reached into the back of his waistband, and I braced myself.
The silver gun glinted, and a sharp intake of breath filled the room. I tried not to stumble back a step as a few capos jumped up. More guns were drawn.
“Fucking cease fire!” ordered Wilde, but no one in the Mafia was taking orders from the MC Prez.
The capos pointed at one another, their barrels swinging left and right. The mixture of who was for and against Massimo Parisi mixed into an indiscernible blur, and the four of us were caught in the middle. The guns, all standard issue, reminded me of the load Coyote brought to church, gleamed like fucking stars.
Every capo held his in two hands, leaving their bodies exposed to attacks from behind. We stood in a powder keg about to explode. I looked to Prez for an order. We had all decided to come, but we sure as shit weren’t aware we would be present for the actual overthrowing of one Don for another.
Enzo swung his gun around, crazed, like he couldn’t tell his own guys from Parisi’s. “This is my family. Loyal to the end.” And then he pulled the trigger.
I dodged out of the way, all of us in the MC ducked to the floor. In the long, rectangular boardroom, there were only so many places to hide. Hidden under the table with bullets whizzing over my head, I palmed my knife and checked my brothers. Celt was beside me, but Angel and Wilde had taken cover beside a cabinet on one wall next to a statue missing a head.
BOOM! One of the huge glass windows shattered, and everyone ducked. Shards rained down. The wind whistled through the high-rise boardroom. My jacket flapped open. Gunfire stopped for a heartbeat, but then started again.
What were Wilde’s orders? Both Wilde and Angel were taking cover in the barrage of bullets that seemed to fly haphazardly. The capos were yelling and firing aimlessly, or else they just had shitty aim.
A man fell beside me—one of the capos—holding his side and convulsing as blood gushed from the wound. The poor fuck wouldn’t live for another minute. Before I could do much, he flopped still on the floor. I searched for his gun nearby, but it had skittered a few feet away. If I could get it, I could give my brothers cover while they escaped this Mafia bloodbath.
I rolled up to the balls of my feet, still in a crouch, but Celt grabbed my forearm. He gave a curt shake of his head. Any words we spoke would be lost in the gunfire, but I wanted to argue my case. A vein throbbed on his neck, and he scanned his surroundings. This wasn’t our first wild-west showdown, but this was a first with the Mafia.
We had no code to follow here.
Improvisation, it was.
As a capo stumbled back, his eyes narrowed on us hidden under the table.
Massimo’s or Enzo’s?
Who the fuck could tell?
Then he swung his gun toward us. Enzo’s. Before he could pull the trigger, I lunged at him, my knife leading the charge. I embedded the blade into his stomach and ripped upward, gutting him like a pig. He squealed like a pig too. He pulled the trigger, but the shot went wide when I brought him to the floor.
A bullet swished past my head and my back. Small hairs rose on the back of my neck. I brought the knife down on the man again, now covered in his own blood. He was close to death.
No fight left.
I scrambled to his side and grabbed the gun.
Rolling behind the table, I launched to my feet and shot.
Pop. Pop. Boom!The vibrations ran up my bones, and I dropped again as the gunshots turned my direction. At least they weren’t pointing at Celt or Angel or Wilde.
“Run!” I ordered my brothers.
Celt yelled, “No,” while Wilde nodded. Angel rocked up.
As I popped up and moved toward the exit, I pulled the trigger again and again, leaving any of the standing capos littered with bullets. And then the trigger clicked.
Bullets gone.
“Fuck!” I dropped as someone else’s bullet grazed my arm. How were so many of them still standing? Pain seared my skin, and I blew out a low hiss. Blood bloomed down the sleeve of my black leather jacket, oozing from the parted lips of the graze. I would survive. I’d had worse from beatings from my daddy.
“Cook!” Celt was still half hidden under the table, but Angel and Wilde were closer to the door. We were out of the conference room now, but the shootings didn’t stop.
“I’m good.” I scanned my surroundings.
We still weren’t safe, and I needed another gun.
The body of a random capo, one of Enzo’s men, lay a few feet away. His gun was a few more feet behind him. He’d been trying to run, and someone—probably Parisi himself—had capped him. If I could get the gun, then I could get my brothers out of here. Get back to Maddie. Get by brothers to their ol’ ladies.
But where the fuck was my mom?
I didn’t look at Celt, knowing he would tell me to wait, and waiting for the lull in the crossfire would mean our deaths. I pushed away from the cabinet that shielded me and reached for the gun. I gripped the handle and spun around, pulling the trigger, but then pain burst in me.
More than my arm.
All the air rushed from my lungs, and I fell back with a sucker punch to my stomach. Pain blew through me like my skin was dry wood, lit on fire. I gasped, forcing my eyes open, and then dropped my hand to my side. All I found was red fucking blood.
My blood.
Something wet drizzled into my beard.
“Damn it,” I said through clenched teeth. A scream built in the back of my throat, but I swallowed it.
“Cook!” Celt dodged under the table, saving his own life. Good. Maddie would need the help.
A second heartbeat had started in me, itching in my stomach. It was quick and overtaking my own heartbeat. I tried to slow my breathing. I wouldn’t let this gunshot kill me that fast.
“Cook!” Celt tried to lean toward me, but bullets slashed past him. He doubled back, hiding. Smart fucker. “Morris.”
Was I really that close to death that he was calling me by my first name? Surely, I was fucked. How much blood could I lose before I blacked out? I didn’t know.
The bullets had slowed, mostly because the amount of people to shoot was going down. Except for Enzo. Even though he had been the first to whip out his gun and shoot, he had hidden from the mess he’d created. Now, he stood up, playing the hero as he shot at Massimo and the men who stood with him.
How fucking long would this take?
With my good arm, I aimed the gun at Enzo and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit Enzo in the chest, and the man fell back. As quick as the shooting had started, it came to a screeching halt. The interim Don was dead, and the fighting between their capos ended.
Only one Don could be supreme, and Massimo must’ve still been standing. It would’ve been easier on the MC if both managed to die. Maybe I could still swing my arm wide and shoot.
I started to bring my arm up again, but then Massimo stood in front of me. His suit was like black ink. He kicked the gun out of my hand, and it clattered to the side, out of reach. I bit back a yelp, pain shooting further through me. He looked down at me over his straight nose, pulling his lips back into a sneer.
He really was going to kill a man already down.
But then he stalked off, calling for the living capos to get back on their feet. The shit needed to be cleaned up.
“Cook.” Celt knelt down beside me, thrusting his hands against my body.
I blew out a hiss that sounded too much like a whimper, but I had gotten fucking shot. Pain clawed through me, and my vision blurred. Shadows crept in on the sides, and I blinked them away. More faces appeared beside Celt. Maybe it was just him. They all swam together, doubling and then tripling. I blinked again, focusing on the faces of my brothers.
“We need to pack the wound and get the fuck out,” said Angel.
“Where can we take him?” asked Celt.
“The goddamn hospital,” said Wilde, taking off his belt.
Angel slipped something out of his pocket, flashing his knife in the process. What the fuck did they have planned?
“He won’t be able to ride,” said Celt.
“I’ll do it,” I said through clenched teeth, and Celt gave me a worried look. Now wasn’t the time to be a wuss. We were still in danger, even if Enzo was dead. I didn’t need to be shot again or have one of my brothers shot. Leaving me lying on the ground any longer would kill me.
Getting to my feet was a bad idea though. Darkness inked in from the sides, and the last things I saw was Celt’s terrified eyes as he lunged for me.
Maddie
Excitement poured through me, and I stopped ahead of the group. I tossed my head back and spun in a circle, another layer of the Gambinos’ torment falling from my shoulders. I couldn’t believe I actually held my shit together while being deposed. My pulse raced, and I bounced on the balls of my feet.
Was I thrilled? Yeah, but I also wasn’t running away. I just needed motion. Contentment wanted to wrap around me, but I couldn’t embrace it completely until I was back in Cook’s arms.
Bou and Roni walked side by side as Mel lingered a few feet back, looking down at her cell phone. She had been checking her messages often, and I really didn’t understand. It had to be some former DA stuff. Paranoia, maybe?
If she liked being reunited with her former colleagues, she didn’t show it. I waited for Bou and Roni to catch up with me in the parking garage before walking ahead again.
I couldn’t get into the car without Bou unlocking the door, so I stopped and waited halfway there. When someone gasped behind me, I stopped cold. Spinning around, I found Bou staring at her phone with her hand covering her mouth.
“What is it?” demanded Mel, coming up to her other side.
“It’s not the baby, is it?” asked Roni, running a hand over Bou’s belly. All day, Bou had been petting her belly like it was the most natural thing in the world. I had felt weird watching, but Roni’s touch was that of a nurse. Concerned, measuring.
“No, it’s...” Bou’s mouth dangled open. Her eyes were wide, and I swore I could see myself reflected back.
Roni’s phone pinged next, and she whipped her cell phone from her purse. Less than a second later, Mel’s phone pinged. It was already in her hands. This had to be MC business. I waited for my cell phone to ping, but it didn’t vibrate. Didn’t make a sound.
“Come on, Cook,” I murmured, waiting for whatever their message was.
“Oh my God,” muttered Roni. Her bottom lip trembled, and she could no longer look at me.
My head started shaking. Back and forth, faster and faster. Something had happened to Cook. I could feel it in the center of myself. I didn’t want the message. I wanted him. Needed him.
Tears sprang from my eyes, and I heard someone yelling, “No-no-no!”
Melanie took a step toward me. Pity shone in her eyes, but her voice held absolutely no emotion. “Maddie—”
“Shut up, Lanie.” Bou slipped around Mel and descended on me. She placed her hands on my shoulders, though I was already glued in place. “We’re going to the hospital in Vegas.”
No. I didn’t want to.
No Vegas. No damn hospital.
The guys were in Vegas—my guy.
My Cook.
Daddy.
“Wh-what h-h-happ—?” I asked, forcing the sounds, not quite words, past my lips.
I was overreacting and had to breathe. Cook was okay. He’d be fine. We were just going to get him. Maybe something happened to the bike he was riding. It wasn’t his bike, after all.
If he were here, Cook would slap my ass or put me on a task. He would help me focus. Daddy wouldn’t let my brain spin out of control or spiral into dark thoughts.
He would help me before I could help myself. If I could help myself.
Cook had to be fine. I needed him to be fine.
Everyone else knew their love was safe. They would get to hold their men and kiss them. Feel their muscles and, and everything. Their men were still standing and living.
“Maddie, look at me,” Bou said.
I shook my head and she gripped my shoulders tighter.
“Give me your eyes,” she insisted, and I stretched them wide, taking in her midnight blues.
Not Daddy’s chocolate brown.
I blinked again.
“Focus on me, Maddie. And breathe.” Bou took in a deep breath and blew it out, then repeated the process with me until I nodded. At last, she said, “Stay with me so we can get to Cook. He’s been shot, but he’s going to be okay.”
But she’d betrayed me before. I wrenched out of her grasp, stumbling a few steps as the world spun around me. I was spinning too, too quickly. I thought I was going to vomit. I fell to my knees, gravel digging into the skin.
“Maddie!” Mel knelt beside me, dragging my hair behind my ear. “Just breathe. Everything is going to be okay.”
It wasn’t. Not without Cook.
I would lose myself without Daddy. I needed him to anchor me now. And forever.
Without Cook, I wasn’t safe. The Gambinos and whoever else would take me again, using me like they had done before. I couldn’t live in a place with so much violence.
“We need to go,” said Bou, standing over us with her hands on her hips. “Maddie, get up.”
My legs were like jelly. My body, a noodle. Honestly, they should’ve left me there to wither and die.
“Bou, maybe we shouldn’t...” said Mel in a soft voice. I could barely hear her over the blood rushing past my ears.
“Now!” ordered Bou, and her voice ricocheted off the concrete in the parking garage. “He’s like a brother to me, Maddie, so get the fuck up so we can go. Cook needs you, and I’m not willing to lose him today. So get your ass off the ground and into the car. Now!”
Her order made me move before I thought to. My body just responded. I couldn’t think straight, but I stalked to Mel’s car, reaching it before anyone else had.