14. Locked and Loaded
14
Locked and Loaded
R aph calls an emergency meeting at the club. The sound of bikes revving pollutes the night for miles. It takes less than an hour for everyone to show up. I don’t suspect any less from my crew. They have always been ride or die, and I know with the shit I went through, most of them are probably having thoughts they want to keep to themselves. Hell, I can’t say that I blame them. If my headman were doing some underground shit and kept me out of the loop, I’d wonder what else he was hiding.
I’m in no shape to take charge of anything, let alone a conversation. What the hell am I thinking? I just got out of the damn hospital, barely able to stand on my own without this damn cane. And now, here I am, contemplating walking straight into a battle I know I can’t win—not like this. Not when every step feels like fire and every breath reminds me of how broken I really am.
“Here. Take this and drink,” Raph says, his tone firm but calm, the kind of voice that expects no argument.
He presses a small white pill into my hand, followed by a glass filled with a clear liquid that catches the dim light. It’s not water, though—I’d recognize that familiar burn anywhere. Don Julio. The drink we’ve been sharing since we were stupid kids sneaking into trouble.
I look up at him, suspicion in my eyes. “What the hell is this?”
“It’ll take the edge off,” he replies, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “Trust me, you’re gonna need it. I can get you something stronger if you want, but I know how you are about drugs… thanks to your upbringing.”
“The edge? Or the pain?” I mutter, staring down at the pill like it might bite. “Because those are two very different things, and I’m fighting both right now, amigo.”
“The pain,” Raph says, his voice softening just a fraction. “Mostly the pain. The Doc recommended it to Sasha while you were raising hell in the hospital. She asked our club Doc to hook you up, and, well… here we are.”
These bastards. Always looking out for me, even when I make it nearly impossible. Even when my words are sharper than knives, cutting into them every chance I get. And yet, they keep standing there, shields up, unflinching. Their loyalty isn’t something I deserve, not after the hell I’ve put them through, but here they are, just like always.
“Settle in!” Raph shouts as I take a seat in the corner of the room.
Everyone files in, their boots scuffing against the worn floorboards, their voices hushed. I lean back in the chair, resting my cane against the wall beside me, and watch Raph as he steps to the head of the table.
It’s his show now, and damn if I’m not proud of the way he’s handling it. For years, Raph has been my right hand—the one I could count on when the weight of leadership or my world felt like it might crush me. But tonight, he’s not just my second. He’s the glue holding this whole operation together.
Raph waits until everyone is seated, his sharp gaze moving across the room. The tension is thick, the stakes too high for anyone to screw this up. He doesn’t need to raise his voice; his presence alone commands their attention. They give respect where respect is earned, and he sure as hell makes it easier for them to trust.
“Alright, listen up,” Raph begins, his voice steady and measured. “You all know why we’re here. Esmé’s out there, and we’re bringing her home. No exceptions, no mistakes.”
I catch the subtle shift in the room as everyone sits up straighter, their eyes locked on him. Raph’s got a way of making people listen, of cutting through the chaos and giving them something to hold on to. It’s a skill I’ve relied on more times than I can count.
“We have suspicion that she is being held possibly for trafficking,” Raph continues, pointing to the map spread out on the table. “Eight guys minimum, maybe more. They’ve got eyes on the front, the roof, and the back exits. Armed, but not professionals. We can handle this.”
He pauses, letting the information sink in before breaking down the plan. His voice is calm but authoritative, the kind that leaves no room for doubt. He goes through every detail—entry points, escape routes, contingencies for when things go south.
It’s flawless.
Raph has always been good under pressure, but tonight, he’s operating on another level. I can see it in the way that everyone responds to him, their nods of understanding, the trust in their eyes.
“Team One, you’ll create a diversion at the front. Keep them focused on you, but don’t engage unless necessary. Team Two covers the perimeter. Nobody gets in or out without you knowing. Team Three…” Raph glances at me, his expression unreadable for a moment before he continues. “We’re going inside to get Esmé. Fast and clean. No heroics.”
I nod slightly, the weight of his trust settling over me. Raph knows I’m not at full strength, but he also knows there’s no way I’d sit this one out.
“What about backup?” one of the men asks, his voice laced with uncertainty.
“Backup is us,” Raph says firmly. “If you’re waiting for someone else to save the day, you’re in the wrong room. We’ve been through worse, and we’ve come out stronger. Tonight will be no different.”
The room goes quiet, and for a moment, all you can hear is the faint creak of the floorboards. Everyone around the table exchanges a glance, their resolve solidifying under Raph’s steady leadership.
“Gear up,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “We move in twenty. You know your roles. Don’t make me repeat myself.”
The crew springs into action, chairs scraping as they head out to prepare. I watch Raph as he studies the map one last time, his jaw tight, his focus absolute. Pride swells in my chest despite the ache in my body. He’s not just running point—he’s carrying the weight of this mission like it’s his own. After all, it was his and Sasha’s job to keep Esmé safe.
I push myself to my feet, leaning heavily on the cane as I approach him. “You’ve got this under control,” I say, keeping my voice low so it doesn’t carry. “You’re handling it better than I could’ve.”
Raph looks up, his brow furrowing slightly. “Don’t start with that shit. This is your call—I’m just doing my job.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “You’re doing more than that. You’re keeping everyone steady. Hell, you’re keeping me steady despite my mixed emotions.”
For a moment, his expression softens, a flicker of something close to gratitude in his eyes. “Someone’s got to. You’ve got enough on your plate.”
I smirk, and my hand claps him on the shoulder. “Remind me to give you a raise after this.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Let’s just get Esmé back first. Then you can worry about my damn raise. Wait a minute…since when do I get paid?” we laugh.
We stand there for a beat, the weight of the mission hanging heavy between us. Raph might be my second, but tonight, he’s the one keeping this whole thing from falling apart. And for that, I couldn’t be prouder.
Everyone takes off in a formation we’ve learned together as we worked over time. Whatever the hell Raph gave me, I need more of it because this shit is magic. The pain in my leg subsides, and my muscle memory takes over while I am driving.
We arrive near the location. Rallying up, everyone waits for the final orders to be given. It’s time.
I let out a long breath, the cold night air biting at my skin as I stand in front of the crew. They’re lined up by their bikes, their engines silent, the chrome gleaming under the faint glow of the light posts aligned up the road. The smell of oil and leather mixes with the crisp chill of the late night, grounding me in the moment. These people—my brothers and sisters—are waiting for me to speak, their faces hard, their resolve set.
I take a step forward, the crunch of gravel beneath my boots breaking the silence. “I owe you all an apology,” I say, my voice carrying over the quiet. I meet their eyes one by one, letting the words settle. “For dragging you into this. For putting your lives on the line because I didn’t see this coming.”
The tension in the air is thick, but none of them speak. They’re giving me the space to say what I need to, even if it’s not what they want to hear.
“This is on me,” I continue, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “Esmé’s in this position because of my decisions. Because I underestimated Marklov, I let my heart guide me instead of my brain. I thought I could handle him, thought I could keep him in check. But I was wrong. And now she’s paying the price for it. But she is not the only one.” I mean this part in more ways than one, but Esmé always comes first.
“You all obviously chose to be here for a reason. Most of you watched Esmé grow up to be the beautiful soul she is today.”
I pause, glancing over at Raph, who’s standing a few steps away. He nods once, his expression unreadable but steady. I will say it a thousand times over. He’s been my second for years, my right hand, my voice of reason when everything feels like it’s going to hell. And tonight, I see the pride in his eyes. Not judgment. Not blame. Just pride.
I turn back to the group, my voice hardening. “Marklov is dangerous. He’s not just some punk looking to make a name for himself. He’s part of the Russians, also a cartel leader, and knows how to play people. He thrives on chaos, on fear. And he’s got connections—ones that make him think he’s untouchable.”
I gesture toward the location in the distance, its silhouette barely visible under the dim lights. “But he’s not. Tonight, we remind him who the hell we are. We’re not just going in to get Esmé. We’re going in to send a message. He crossed a line, and he’s going to learn what happens when you mess with us.”
The crew nods, their jaws set, their bodies tense with readiness. But I’m not done. I step closer, my voice dropping slightly. “One more thing. Marklov stays alive. I don’t care how much you hate the bastard or how tempting it might be to put a bullet in his head. He’s got the information we need—names, deals, leverage. Killing him is the easy way out, and we’re not taking it. We will make him wish he was dead.”
There’s a murmur of acknowledgment, though I can see the flicker of frustration in a few of their eyes. I don’t blame them. Keeping someone like Marklov alive goes against every instinct we have. But it’s what has to be done.
“You all know your roles,” I say, stepping back and scanning the group. “We go in fast, clean, and quiet. No mistakes, no loose ends. Esmé comes home tonight. Alive. Safe. And Marklov gets to breathe—for now.”
I glance at Raph again, and he gives me a sharp nod. The crew mounts their bikes, the rumble of engines filling the night as they come to life. I swing my leg over my own, its familiar weight grounding me.
As the first bike rolls out, I take one last look at the darkness in the distance. Tonight, everything changes. I won’t stop until I have both of them in my arms.