Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty Four
Kolter
Since I was forced to bring Naomi to the club for dinner, my father has done everything in his power to keep me as busy as possible.
Part of it could be because I’ve all but shrugged off every responsibility he’s tasked me with until now, but I know the truth.
He wants to keep me busy, away from her, drown me in duties until I can’t see anything but the club.
The salty stench of the port fills my nose, and I wrap my jacket tighter around me as the crisp night air bites through my clothes.
For the last two weeks, I’ve been making drops, collecting debts and doing every grunt job possible.
Tonight, though, Snakes had something else in mind.
He said I’d been doing good work and sent me with a small group of guys to pick up a shipment.
Apparently, the Delfino family, the local mafia, have been sniffing around our territory and are planning to cause some shit tonight.
I’m surprised he and Bones didn’t want to be here.
They don’t usually turn down a good fight, and they definitely never turn down an opportunity to take out a few mafia brats.
As usual, though, I’m not allowed to question plans or motives; instead, I do as I’m told, I get out, and I hope I live long enough to see one more smile from my Peaches.
Leaning against the wall, I absentmindedly mess with my knife, flicking it out and in, over and over again, as I study the shoreline. Ace watches me with amusement before bumping his shoulder into mine.
“You good?”
“I’m fine,” I respond, standing up a little straighter.
He laughs. “Bullshit. You’re a million miles away. Or thirteen to be exact,” he says with a wink.
I blow out a breath and look up at the sky. Thirteen miles—is that it? That’s the distance between me and my girl? Feels like a lot more.
“How much are we picking up? Are two vans gonna cut it?” Ace asks, looking at the two cargo vans idling to one side.
I pull out a cigarette, light it and take a drag before shaking my head. “You think he tells me shit? He said go pick up the shipment at this place, this time and if any mafia fucks come by, gun ’em down.”
“Aye aye, captain,” Ace mocks.
I scoff in agreement and take another drag then spot a boat beginning to pull into port. It’s unmarked, too small to be commercial and looks to be our supplier.
I smack Ace’s chest then gesture to the boat before looking round at the dozen guys I brought with me. Several stay with the vans; the rest follow me to the dock.
Once the boat is anchored, we’re led wordlessly on board, then to a cargo area filled with dozens of wooden crates.
I signal to Bunky, who hands over his crowbar, then crack open one of the crates to reveal a fuck ton of AK-47s and AR-15s, and several thousand rounds of ammo for each.
I nod in approval, then start organizing the offloading, which is going to take a few journeys each.
We’re almost done when Ace—who I’ve been carrying crates with—stops walking and turns his head slowly to the side.
“Those headlights, Blade?”
I follow his gaze and spot several vehicles approaching our position.
“Son of a bitch,” I mutter, then turn to the rest of my guys and shout, “Fucking hurry! We got company!”
Some of the guys rush back to the boat to finish offloading the cargo; the rest of us grab our guns and tuck ourselves behind the vans and the building. The cars come to a slow halt, and for a moment, I think they haven’t seen us—until the shots ring out.
The last crate is being carried across the parking lot, and it makes for a perfect fucking target.
It’s quickly riddled with bullet holes, and then one of my guys gets hit.
He drops to the ground, the crate falling along with him, but his buddy grabs him by the vest and pulls him out of the way. From there, it’s a full-on war.
Men rush from our left and right, shooting from a distance before getting close enough that it becomes a hand-to-hand fight.
I smack a gun out of one mafia prick’s hand, headbutting him for good measure before jamming the butt of my own gun into the back of his head.
The next man that comes at me, I sink my knife into his gut, ripping upwards with a sharp yank that drops him to the ground.
The shipyard is littered with bodies. Some are my men; some are theirs. It’s a goddamn ambush, a bloodbath, and all any of us can do in the moment is fight like hell to make it out the other side.
I rip one guy off Bunky, driving my knife into his forehead before ripping it back out, then look around to see who to take on next
A bullet whizzes by my head, and I whip round, diving out of the way before the next shot comes.
It’s Luis Delfino, a prince of sorts within their family and the most arrogant piece of shit you’ve ever met.
When his clip runs empty, I charge towards him. The mafia love their guns, and don’t get me wrong, so do we, but they’re prissy and don’t enjoy a good street fight. Not like I do, at least.
I tackle him to the ground—both of us landing heavily on the concrete—then drive my fist into his face. His head whips back, and he spits blood at me before kneeing me in the balls.
Bitch fucking move.
I roll onto my side, attempting to catch my breath, but he delivers a swift kick to my stomach that causes something inside me to pop.
“You inbred Neanderthals really thought you could steal my shipment?” he sneers, delivering another brutal kick to my stomach. “Thought I wouldn’t stop you? I believed you to be smarter than you looked, but I suppose that was foolish of me.”
He goes to kick me again, but I slice the back of his ankle with my knife, severing his Achilles tendon. He cries out and drops like a stone.
I pin him to the ground and press my gun to his temple. “The fuck are you talking about? This is our shipment. You’re trying to rob us,” I sneer into his face.
He looks at me like I’m stupid, still wincing in pain. “Of course you don’t even know who owns the product you’re taking. All you do is take orders like a good little bitch.”
Anger surges through me, but when I pull the trigger, the clip ticks. I try again and again, but I’m out of bullets.
That hesitation is all the opening he needs to deliver a punch to my face and wiggle out from under me. He starts crawling towards a gun lying beside one of his fallen men, and I decide we need to get the fuck out of here.
I jump to my feet then run to the van, limping slightly. Several of my guys, Ace included, are already there.
“Let’s go!” I shout, and we all pile into the vans as soon as we have an opening.
I try to work out who made it as both vans peel out of the parking lot. Several shots fire after us, shattering the windows before we turn the corner.
“What the fuck!” I shout, kicking one of the crates in the back.
“Easy, Blade. We got the supply. That’s what matters,” Ace wheezes, drawing my attention.
His face is bloodied all to hell and he’s holding his side.
“You good?” I ask him.
He winces and nods. “Shallow entry wound. Still, probably gonna need the doc.”
“That makes all of us,” Bunky scoffs as he whips the wheel round.
“How many are in the other van?” I ask, since it’s only me, Ace and Bunky in here.
“Three,” Bunky answers gruffly.
“Jesus,” Ace mutters.
We came with ten. That means four of our guys are either dead or about to be. Over what? Some fucking stolen product?
When we pull into the drop spot, I’m fucking livid. I fly out of the van and storm towards my father and Bones; they both look bored, impatient, like they’ve been waiting on us all goddamn night.
I don’t think—I just act, driving my fist into my father’s face. His head snaps to one side in a way that’s deeply satisfying.
Bones is quick to pull me off him, and to my surprise, my father doesn’t react. At least not the way I expected. Instead, he smiles at me, like he’s impressed.
“What the hell was that?” I snarl.
“Did you get the shipment?” he asks.
I let out a bitter laugh, struggling against Bones. “You mean the stolen weapons? The ones that belong to the Delfino family? Yeah, we fucking got ’em. And four of our guys are six feet under for it!”
My father frowns. “Four? Jesus, were you guys fucking around? I told you that you’d have company. You weren’t better prepared?”
My eyes practically bug out of my head. “You told us they might try to poach our shit. Not that they’d be coming to collect theirs! Every one of those men’s lives is on your head!”
He gives me a doubtful look. “Be pissed all you want, but you were the man in charge out there. So every life lost is on you,” he says, pointing his cigarette at me.
“Now get the fuck outta my face,” he continues. “Take your bitch ass home.”
I look to Bones, surprised to see a pinched expression on his face.
He always knows what my father is up to, yet he looks just as blindsided as I feel.
Of course, he doesn’t speak, but his concern is heavy in his eyes, which unnerves me.
We’ve never provoked the mafia like this, just as they’ve never provoked us.
We have our fights, our territorial disputes, but we know an intentional war is a death sentence for all.
I guess Snakes doesn’t give a shit, though.