Chapter 27
Tane
The restaurant sat on a quiet stretch of the waterfront district. The mind of place that was upscale enough for good food and dim lighting, but discreet enough that no one bothered them for selfies.
Tane and Jacob had lingered over dessert longer than usual, talking about nothing and everything: the upcoming finals, Jacob’s latest Switch obsession, the way the city lights looked prettier when the season was still alive.
No Cardini talk.
No shoulder talk.
Just all the easy stuff, the day-to-day rhythm of their lives together. It was nice too. But all good things needed to come to an end and before they knew it, it was time to make an exit.
Tane paid the bill while Jacob stepped outside to wait for the cab.
The night air had turned sharp… Tane could feel it through the glass doors as he collected their coats from the hostess. Black wool for him, neon yellow puffer for Jacob. He draped both over his good arm and pushed through the exit.
“Jacob, I…” Tane began, before realizing that it was just him. “Okay…”
The sidewalk was empty.
No Jacob. No cab idling at the curb. Just the low hum of distant traffic and the slap of water against the pier pilings.
Tane’s stomach dropped.
He scanned left, then right—nothing. The streetlights threw long shadows, but no blond hair, no familiar silhouette leaning against a lamppost or checking his phone.
Tane sensed from the pit of his stomach that something was up. It just didn’t feel right. Without wasting a single second, he pulled out his cell and hit Jacob’s contact.
It rang once, twice, four times.
Then straight to voicemail.
“Fuck,” Tane muttered.
The feeling hit him like a blindside check—cold, instinctive, wrong. This wasn’t Jacob wandering off to look at the river or ducking into a shop for gum. This was absence. Sudden. Silent.
Tane thumbed open his messages, found Antonio’s thread—the one they used only for emergencies—and typed three words:
TANE: SOS. Waterfront. Now.
He hit send and did his best to retain a level of composure.
Tane pocketed the phone and started moving. The alley beside the restaurant was narrow, lit only by a single sodium bulb above the service door.
He rounded the corner fast, boots scraping concrete…
And then he froze.
Two men had Jacob pinned against the brick wall. One held his arms twisted behind his back. The other had a hand clamped over his mouth.
What the fuck.
They’ve got…
They’ve got my boy…
Jacob’s eyes were wide, furious, struggling against the grip. A black SUV idled at the far end of the alley, rear doors open, engine running low.
Tane didn’t think. He charged.
“Fucccccck offffff!” Tane roared, the element of surprise suddenly gone.
He hit the first man—the one on Jacob’s arms—like a freight train, shoulder driving into ribs. The guy grunted, staggered, lost his hold. Jacob twisted free and threw an elbow into the second man’s throat. The thug choked, stumbled back.
Tane followed through with a right hook that caught the first guy square on the jaw. Bone cracked against knuckle. The man dropped. Tane spun, caught the second by the collar, slammed him face-first into the wall. The guy’s nose burst, and blood sprayed the brick.
Jacob was already moving. He grabbed a loose metal trash-can lid like a shield, swinging it at the second man’s knee. The crack echoed. The thug howled.
Tane yanked Jacob behind him, putting his body between the kid and the SUV.
Then, the rear passenger door opened.
A third man stepped out. He was tall, gloved, pistol already raised.
“Enough,” the man said, voice flat. “Both of you. In the car. Now.”
Tane spread his arms, shielding Jacob completely. The shoulder screamed in protest—fresh pain lancing down his arm—but he didn’t move.
“You’re not taking him,” Tane said, low and certain. “You can have me. But not him.”
The gunman smiled thinly. “We’ll see about that.”
He aimed down the pistol.
But suddenly, headlights flooded the alley.
Two black SUVs screeched to a stop at the mouth of the narrow lane, blocking the exit. Doors flew open. Four men in dark coats spilled out. Cardini men, faces hard, weapons already drawn.
The gunman in front of Tane hesitated, only a fraction of a second but it was more than enough.
The alley erupted.
Shots cracked—sharp, deafening in the confined space. Bullets sparked off brick, pinged off metal dumpsters. The gunman in front of Tane jerked, spun, and dropped. The other two thugs scrambled for the SUV, but Cardini fire cut them down before they reached the doors.
It was over in seconds.
One of the Cardini men, broad-shouldered, earpiece, no-nonsense, rushed forward and grabbed Tane’s good arm.
“Move. Right now.”
Tane pulled Jacob with him. They sprinted toward the waiting SUVs as sirens began to wail in the distance, faint at first, then closer.
They piled into the back of the lead vehicle. Doors slammed. Tires squealed. The driver floored it.
Jacob was breathing hard, adrenaline-shaky, eyes bright.
“Who the fuck were those assholes?” Tane demanded, voice cracking on the last word.
The man in the passenger seat—same one who’d hauled them in—didn’t turn around.
“You don’t need to know,” he said. “And Jacob, you did good, kid. Held your ground long enough for Rivers to get there. Most guys would’ve folded.”
Jacob looked at Tane, then back at the man. “Thanks. I guess.”
The Cardini man gave a curt nod. “We’ll handle cleanup. You two disappear for a few days. Antonio’s orders.”
Tane met the man’s eyes in the rearview. “Appreciate it. And tell Antonio I’ll be in touch.”
They rode in tense silence for ten minutes—city lights streaking past, sirens fading behind them. When the driver finally pulled into an underground garage beneath one of the Cardini family’s safe houses, Tane exhaled for what felt like the first time since he’d stepped outside the restaurant.
They were ushered into a private elevator, up to a sparsely furnished penthouse suite. The Cardini man handed Tane a burner phone.
“Use this if you need anything. Stay off the grid until Antonio says otherwise.”
Then he was gone.
The door clicked shut.
Tane turned to Jacob.
Jacob was still wired: pupils blown, cheeks flushed, breathing fast. But the expression on his face wasn’t fear.
It was exhilaration.
“That was insane,” Jacob said, half-laughing, half-breathless. “Like… actual movie shit. They had guns. They had a fucking SUV. And you just—”
Tane grabbed him by the shoulders gently, mindful of the healing ribs, and pulled him in.
“Stop,” Tane demanded.
Jacob blinked. “What?”
Tane cupped Jacob’s face with both hands, thumbs brushing over cheekbones.
“You’re shaking, boy,” Tane said, his voice calm now.
Jacob looked down at his own hands—indeed trembling—then back up. “Adrenaline. I’m fine. It’s nothing.”
“You’re not fine,” Tane said quietly. “You almost got taken tonight. They had a gun on you. On us.”
Jacob’s grin faltered. “But they didn’t. You got there. And then the cavalry showed up. We’re okay.”
Tane pulled him closer, wrapping both arms around him despite the shoulder’s protest. Jacob melted against his chest, face buried in Tane’s neck.
“I’m okay,” Jacob whispered again. “Really.”
Tane held him tighter. “You scared the hell out of me.”
Jacob’s arms came around Tane’s waist. “I know. I’m sorry.”
They stood like that for a long minute—heartbeats slowing, breathing syncing, the adrenaline finally ebbing into bone-deep exhaustion.
Tane kissed the top of Jacob’s head. “No more restaurants without security for a while.”
Jacob huffed a small laugh. “You think?”
Tane pulled back just enough to look at him. “And no more excitement tonight. We’ve had enough.”
Jacob’s eyes sparkled—still bright, still a little wild.
“But it was kind of hot, right? You charging in like a knight, taking down two guys—”
Tane rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. “Bed. Now. The guard might have been talking about us lying low, but Tremaine will need us. Hockey tomorrow. Only hockey. From here until the Cup is in our hands.”
Jacob grinned, unrepentant. “Fine. But you have to admit—”
“Jacob!”
“—that you looked really sexy doing it.”
Tane shook his head, but the corner of his mouth twitched. The boy was incorrigible.
“Bed,” Tane repeated, steering Jacob toward the hallway. “Before I change my mind and make you do push-ups in the living room.”
Jacob laughed—real, bright, alive—and let himself be guided.
They had survived the night.
But there was still business left to sort out on the ice.
And they wouldn’t stop, not until the trophy was theirs.