10. Lucky
10
LUCKY
B rando's curses roll through the car like thunderclaps, relentless and charged with frustration. I grip the wheel tighter, the city lights flashing past as I turn back toward the office. The usual hum of traffic feels distant, drowned out by the storm brewing in my head.
We took care of the men who started trouble at Ignite , but the fallout lingers. The club’s revenue has nosedived since that night. Patrons might have been reassured with promises, but I know better than to guarantee peace; I did that once and look where that got us. There will always be some idiot willing to test our patience and challenge our control.
The dashboard glows faintly, the sound of Brando’s tapping fingers breaking through my thoughts. I hadn’t even begun planning my retaliation against Jacklyn Vicci when the call came in—one of our guys shot during a botched robbery. Or so they say. The shooters are rumored to be Vicci men. The name alone is enough to send a jolt through my veins.
Jacklyn Vicci. She’s been a ghost since our meeting days ago. No word, no follow-up. If she’s not behind this, why the silence? My jaw tightens as I piece together the whirlwind of the last week. Too much. Too fast. Too clean. I could kick myself for letting her in.
As I step into the conference room, the first thing I notice is Scar's hard gaze—his usual calm is gone, replaced by something colder, sharper. It's not just the news about one of our men being shot that’s got him on edge. It’s the feeling that we're being pulled into a game that none of us really want to play. The Vicci family is never far from trouble, and if they’re involved in this, we could be looking at another war that’ll spill blood on our streets; a war that none of us wants.
"It’s about bloody time," Brando says, his voice low. I know he must be anxious to get home to Mia.
I throw my arms up and shake my head in resigned irritation.
Scarsits at the head of the table, his tall frame and quiet demeanor making him seem almost too calm, but his eyes are sharp, observing everything with that quiet calm he has about him. He doesn't speak unless he has to, but when he does, it's always with the weight of a decision made from years of experience.
Rafi, the baby of the family, runs a hand through his dark hair and leans forward. His eyes are restless, looking for answers as much as anyone else. "What are the chances this was actually a botched robbery?” His voice has a sharp edge, and I can see the concern in his face.
“If they’re Vicci men, you know this isn’t just random,” Brando replies. “No such a thing as too many coincidences. It’s opportunity.”
Brando taps his fingers impatiently on the table. Put a gun in his hand and tell him to go, and he’ll be off in thirty seconds. Brando doesn’t know how to be any other way, but he’s literally just stepped out of a war with his nemesis Frank Falcone; I don’t know that he has the stomach for another battle. "No way this is a coincidence and the Viccis just happened to be a few yards away when this happened. Someone has to pay for this.”
I don’t take my seat immediately, instead choosing to lean against the wall. My mind is already racing through the possibilities. A robbery gone wrong? Maybe. But it feels too clean. Too thorough. "Scar," I finally say, my voice cutting through the tension. "What’s the word on our guy? Is he going to make it?"
Scar lets out a breath and looks at each of us, his eyes flickering with something darker now. "He’ll live.” He scrunches up his face as a thought occurs to him and watches me carefully. “Didn’t you meet with Jacklyn Vicci a few days ago?”
A ripple of curiosity passes through my brothers. Brando sits up straighter. “Who the fuck is Jacklyn Vicci?”
“The sister,” I reply evenly. “Jack’s twin. And she’s running the family now.”
A stunned silence follows. Brando looks as though I’ve just handed him an unsolvable riddle. “What the hell happened to Jack Vicci?”
“Still figuring that out,” I admit. “But trust me, she’s not just a placeholder.”
Scar’s gaze sharpens. “What have you done to get answers?”
I hold back the full truth—the part where I let lust blind me and got closer to Jacklyn than I should have. “Everything I can,” I reply, keeping my voice steady. “My men are digging, but the Vicci family operates like a fortress. It’s slow work.”
“Then tell them to dig deeper,” Brando snaps.
He settles back into his seat and watches me with sullen eyes, his mind possibly recollecting memories of his own twin. His confusion is a sight to behold. It’s rare that anything confounds him, but it would seem my words have confused the fuck out of him.
“I feel like there’s something bigger than we think at play here,” I tell my brothers. “We need more information, and if the Viccis are involved, we need to tread carefully.”
“Why is that, brother?” Rafi asks, his voice stern as he turns toward me. “Since when do we tread carefully when someone shoots one of our own? She came to the club, remember? That was probably a fact finding expedition for her.” The reminder that she did a number on me then had her men attack my club grates on my mind, slicing through my veins like ice.
“She came to the club?” Brando’s head shoots in my direction.
“She did. And she left without incident.”
“Yet only days later, the club was attacked,” Scar reminds me. Like I need the fucking reminder.
Brando speaks up, reminding us that we don’t need another war, especially with everything else that’s going on. I can imagine he has his hands full trying to help Mia work through the trauma she endured at the hands of Frank Falcone.
“You all know the rules,” Scar says, taking command of the room as the leader in him rises to the surface. “That’s why no-one makes a move until we know more. Especially if there’s a woman involved.”
“What are the chances?” Rafi frowns and shakes his head in confusion. He rubs his temple, clearly agitated. “Are we supposed to just sit around on our hands while our guy bleeds out?”
“No,” Scar says, holding up a hand. “We wait for more intel. We can’t afford to make a wrong move, not now.” He turns to me, tells me to throw every resource we have behind the investigation into who’s running the Vicci family.
I watch my brothers—each of them a key piece in a complicated puzzle. Brando’s caution, Rafi’s aggression, and Scar’s iron resolve. Together, we all make the foundation of the family, but in moments like this, it’s hard to keep the balance when everyone is pulling in a different direction.
Just as the weight of silence starts to settle upon us, my phone buzzes, pulling my attention away. An unlisted number flashes on the screen. My gut tightens.
“Who is it?” Scar asks, when I continue to look at the screen, trying to decide whether or not I should answer. I shrug as the ringing stops, then look at it again as the same number calls a second time.
“Answer it.”
I answer without thinking, my voice low as I snap my greeting down the line, “Yes?”
“Luciano Gatti, you’re a hard man to find when you don’t want to be found.”
I lift my eyes to meet Scar’s, and I know the surprise on my face must be apparent, because he raises his eyebrows in question. I already know who it is; there’s no mistaking the richer than syrup cadence that belongs to Jacklyn Vicci. Plus, only she would have the balls to call me Luciano after I told her not to. We’re back to formalities. Up goes the wall again.
“Well, if I’d known you were looking for me, I would have made myself available,” I tell her. My brothers lean forward, all ears, mesmerized by the one-sided conversation now taking place in the room.
“I got your gift,” she says, and I can’t ignore the resentment that flows down the line. “You should know, I prefer my gifts wrapped. Preferably bloodless.”
“No-one challenges a Gatti and lives to tell the story, Jacklyn. You’d be wise to remember that.” Oh yeah, I can give as good as I get. There’s a long pause and I have to wonder if she’s still on the line, before she starts again.
“It’s unfortunate what happened with your soldier,” she says. My breath hitches as I realize she’s calling about what we’re meeting about.
“It is,” I tell her. “We don’t take too lightly to hoodlums trying to off one of ours.”
There’s another short silence on her end of the line, and when she speaks again, her tone is far more controlled than I expect. “I need a little time to get my men in line. But I guarantee you, the matter will be dealt with swiftly. I just need you to give me a little space to handle this myself.”
I feel the blood rush to my head, and my dick, but I keep my composure. That could mean any one of many things. I don’t give her any sign of the tension coiling inside me. I don’t for one second believe that she’s capable of bringing the situation under control, but I’d love to see her try.
“So, you’re telling me you want me to trust you to bring your own men to heel?” I ask her, my voice laced with disbelief. “After one or more of them shot one of mine?”
Her laugh is soft, almost mocking. “Neither of us wants a war,” she says, and I’m impressed that she understands our goals are aligned. And yet, I still don’t know who Jacklyn Vicci is. “You know the kind of mess this could turn into if we don’t handle it the right way, Luciano.”
I don’t answer right away. I let her words hang in the air between us, thick with implications.
“What guarantee do I have that this will be handled?” I ask, my voice cool. The question is to keep her talking, more than anything else.
“Watch this space,” she says, and the line goes dead before I can respond.
I glance back at my brothers, the weight of her words settling into the pit of my stomach. Scar's eyes are locked on me, sensing something has shifted.
I swallow hard, trying to find the right words. "Jacklyn Vicci is requesting to mete out her own justice on the men who shot our guy," I say quietly, my gaze flicking to each of them in turn. “But I don’t necessarily trust her.”
Rafi’s expression doesn’t change. “You don’t trust a woman who goes by a man’s name? I can see how that can be perplexing.”
What the fuck has gotten into this guy?
Brando leans back in his chair, clearly itching for action. “I say we take the Vicci offer. Let them kill each other and save us the trouble.”
The thought that something could happen to Jacklyn gnaws at something deep inside of me. Even though I feel like killing her myself, I don’t want anyone else to entertain the idea of doing so. That option is exclusively mine.
Scar rubs his jaw, eyes narrowed in thought. “I’ll call Seattle. We’ll see what they’ve got, but we stay cautious. No matter what, I want you all on your highest guard.”
As the meeting breaks up, the weight of the decision hangs over all of us. Jack Vicci's words echo in my mind, the promise of a payment in blood sounding far too final, too dangerous. But whatever this is, it’s far from finished.