Chapter Thirty
Sullie
“We need to rein him in, before he does something stupid.”
I regarded my friend slowly, taking him in as he stood against the wall in my office. Hell, it wasn’t much of an office—just a wooden desk covered in papers, bullets and a few handguns. A couple of metal chairs and a mini fridge off to the right side, against the wall.
He was a big man, bigger than me, and thirty years ago, when our paths crossed for the first time, I was surprised by that. His arms were folded over his chest, his dreads hanging down to the middle of his torso. Dom was all muscle, something I used to envy.
Scrubbing a hand down my face and over my beard, I sighed. We were discussing my nephew, Jeremy. He had been going off the rails since the disappearance of his adopted sister, and while I appreciated that deep love, I feared that it would be his downfall.
“I know, Dom.”
A dark brow rose, wrinkling the dark skin on his forehead. “Do you, brother? Because you've been avoiding it as of late.”
I scoffed, sitting back in my chair. “We've been a little busy. Finding Kay is—”
“Was,” he corrected smoothly. “She was a concern, but the girl doesn’t want to come home, Sull. You and I both know Kay is strong and can handle herself. She is safe and where she wants to be. Jer isn’t coping with that.”
Silence filled the room as the bar buzzed full of life outside.
This was the first time that we'd been open in weeks. The shy little redhead of my niece’s group, Haley, was taken about a month or so ago.
She is back now, thanks to Kay, but since then, my bar had been sort of a hub for the FBI.
While I am happy to help, the neighborhood still needed its “watering hole.”
I chuckled at Mr. Jackson’s label for my bar, the old bastard.
“Something funny?” my partner deadpanned.
“Life, brother. Life.” I raised my palm. “I know we need to rein it in on the boy, but this could be good for him.”
He pushed off the wall and braced his hands on the back of one of the chairs before me. His brown eyes landed on a frame on the wall with the first dollar I ever earned from this place. Beside it was a picture of me and Dom from a different life. A darker time.
“What happened to protecting him?” he asked quietly.
Dread settled over the room. “No matter what I did, Dom, you and I both know that there was no protecting him after Ty.”
Jeremy was a good man. Strong, loyal, with a heart full of love, but he only opened it to certain people.
Jeremy was like a son to me.
I never had the time for the white fence life, and I had too many enemies.
If I married and had children, they would have been the target, so I chose a life of solitude.
It was the safest for all the people I loved.
Did I have any regrets? No. I got to see my niece and nephew grow while protecting the city I loved.
My seat would be filled by Jeremy soon. He was already supposed to be in it, but plans changed five years ago when Gwen brought Dean Connors to my doorstep.
“I don’t think he's ready,” Dom said, looking back at me. I understood his doubts about the boy.
“Were we so different, Dom?” No. Dom was a hotheaded young man with a thirst for power and blood. The mafia had killed his mother when he still in his twenties. Cal Matthews had just come into power. Young. Hungry. He shot Dom’s mother in the chest and dumped her body at their door.
I wanted to keep the mafia out of this city, and he wanted revenge. We were the perfect pair. Romano had been trying to control St. Louis for years, and I’ll be damned if I let him have it.
This is my city.
My partner smirked. “He reminds me of myself, Sull. His fury. His passion. His bloodshed. It’s like looking into a mirror.”
I smiled. “It’s a damn good mirror then, my friend. We need to let him show his ruthless side so that the Crew knows the chair will be filled with strength and not weakness. Jer will be able to protect this city.”
“And if he still doesn’t want it?”
Jer never wanted my chair. He never had the craving for power. He got his revenge for Ty in New York and did his time. When he got out of prison, he kept a low profile, working for me at the bar and was the muscle when needed.
I let him have his secrets, for a while, his racing gig, watching from the shadows as he built his own kingdom in the underground of St. Louis. “He doesn’t have a choice.”
Our stare was interrupted by the ringing of my cell. I put it on speaker.
“Sullie.”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Jones.”
Every bone in my body chilled at the sound of that voice.
Dom came around the desk to stand beside me, a low growl rumbling from his throat. I held up my hand, a silent gesture for him to remain calm. Sitting back in my chair, I stroked my beard and pulled up the security camera feed on my computer.
“Mr. Romano. Seems a little early for you to be calling. Thought blood suckers only did business at night,” I drawled as Dom loaded his gun.
A chuckle sounded on the other end, followed by a cough. I smiled. He still hadn’t recovered from Gwen’s dagger—Black Death. I took pride in knowing that one of my weapons hurt the bastard.
“Always the joker, Sullivan Jones.”
My smile faded at the sound of my full name on his lips. “Cut the shit, Romano. I am a very busy man. What—”
“Too busy for your niece?”
My blood ran cold and Dom stiffened beside me. Another chuckle. “Glad to see your kind knows when to keep their mouth shut,” the racist ass sneered.
He hummed, pleased with our silence. Dom was texting the Crew, and I was shooting a text to Jer.
Me: Come to the bar. It’s about Kay.
Jer: Already here.
“She is rather beautiful. Now I understand my son's…fascination,” he said calmly.
The door to my office burst open, and my nephew entered. He was dressed in dark jeans and a white t-shirt, his knuckles cracked open, dried blood covering the edges. I pointed to the phone on the desk and signaled him to be quiet.
I decided to play dumb. “Son? Tony?”
He chuckled again. “You really are stupid, aren’t you?”
“Seems to be that way, Mr. Romano. Now, I am going to keep things simple for both of us. Hurt my niece, and you will die. You hurt Kay, and I will destroy the kingdom you've spent your life building,” I growled.
A shadow drifted down over my nephew’s features; his jaw tightened. His control was slipping right before my eyes.
“I want Gwen Davenport,” he said simply after a few minutes.
Dom met my eyes and then Jer’s. “You want to trade? A woman for a woman?”
“Look at you, catching on. Good job, Sullivan,” he said slowly, sounding almost bored.
I can’t wait to break his jaw.
Sighing, I replied, “Name a drop point.”
“You’ll bring Davenport?” He sounded almost surprised.
“Just name the time and place, old man. Davenport will be yours, but you will bring my niece to me in one piece, or no deal.”
He laughed. “Of course, old friend.”
“I don’t have all day,” I growled.
“Tonight. Busch Stadium, on the field. For old times’ sake.”
Dom cursed under his breath.
In the mid-2000s, when the new version of Busch Stadium was built, there was a battle between the mafia and my crew. We lost thirty brothers. They lost more.
“Done.” I hung up, and that was when Jer lost it. He turned rapidly as a growl left his throat, and then his fist went through my drywall. Dom and I remained silent, studying him. He yanked his fist out of the new hole in my wall and straightened, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck.
“Get Connors on the line.”
The tone in his voice had Dom and I sharing a look. My partner nodded once before dialing Dean. My eyes landed on my nephew’s.
He was ready.
When this was all over, Jeremy Jones would be the new Crew leader.