Chapter 22 #2
“Weird of you to make that connection.” Ares smirks. “But if you must know—”
“Think wisely before you utter the rest of that sentence,” Angelo interjects.
“Fine, have it your way.” Ares shrugs. “I have no interest in reigniting the feud between our families. You know I’m all about peace and love.”
“What’s your game here?” Cristian asks. “If you think this is your chance at worming your way back into Mariella’s life, you’re delusional.”
“You make a valid point,” he answers mildly. “I doubt murdering all her brothers would endear her to me. Fortunately for me, I don’t really care if she likes me or not.”
“Could have fooled me.” Michele snorts. “You spend an awful lot of time meddling in our lives for someone who has no interest.”
“Oh, I didn’t say I had no interest.” Ares’s eyes glint with satisfaction. “I said I didn’t care whether she likes me or not. They do say hate sex is some of the best sex—”
Cristian steps forward, presumably to murder Ares, but Angelo holds him back.
“For fuck’s sake,” Richard snarls. “I didn’t come here for a goddamn soap opera.”
“I suppose we did get a bit off track there,” Ares says. “That seems to happen every time we get together.”
“Let’s do what we came here to do,” Richard orders.
Our men fall in beside us as a show of loyalty.
“Right.” Ares whistles. “Come on out, then.”
Ares’s brothers and a small army of his men filter out of a shipping container, heading our way with their weapons aimed and ready.
We all draw our guns, and Angelo adjusts his tie, a silent signal. A second later, red laser sights cut through the darkness, settling on the targets opposite us.
“Well played.” Ares chuckles, glancing up at the stacks of shipping containers.
Angelo called in reinforcements, and they came in over the fence and took their positions while we were having this standoff.
“You’re surrounded,” Angelo tells him. “So think carefully about your next move.”
“True.” Ares gestures at one of his men, and he hands him an AK-47. “But this changes nothing for me.”
Ares strolls into the epicenter of the powder keg, and his men join him, lining up like a firing squad. We’re all a hair’s breadth from a bloody massacre when Ares turns around and takes aim at Richard Holloway instead.
“What the fuck?” Richard roars. “We had a deal.”
“See, that’s the thing, little dick. I don’t make deals with double-crossers…or men who force themselves on women.”
“What are you waiting for?” Richard barks at his hired muscle. “Shoot him!”
Several of them squeeze their triggers, but nothing fires.
“I told you I’d supply the weapons,” Ares drawls. “Never said they’d be operational.”
“Come on now.” Cal backs himself against the van, holding his hands up as he pleads. “We can work something out.”
Ares makes a show of considering it, clearly fucking with them, but they don’t know him well enough to realize it.
“Perhaps if you get on your knees and beg, we could come to some kind of agreement.”
The men size each other up, waiting for the weakest link to cave first. Naturally, Cal takes on that task, sacrificing his pride as he falls to his knees. The other men follow his lead—all but Richard. His gaze drifts to the exit, as if he stands a chance of getting there.
Beside me, my brothers screw suppressors onto their barrels as I grab my quick-detach can and click it into place.
Ares and Angelo exchange a look, a silent understanding passing between them as we approach. It’s unclear what Ares’s motive is, but he’s giving the men to Angelo, since he was the one who was slighted.
We all know well enough that any gesture from a Stavros doesn’t come without strings attached, but that’s a problem for later.
“Zip them up, and put a lid on them,” Ares tells his men.
“Now, hold on just a minute,” Cal says. “I thought—”
One of Ares’s men stuffs a rag into Cal’s mouth and secures it with duct tape before he shoves him down and zip ties his wrists and ankles. The other men follow suit, and one of the traitors—an attorney—tries to run. Angelo pistol-whips him and drags him back to the others, securing him personally.
Thirty minutes later, Cristian sends word that he successfully commandeered Cal Van Croft’s yacht and killed the beacon. He’ll meet us at the agreed-upon location.
At the private marina, we load the men onto one of our vessels while Ares waits to see us off.
“I suppose you think I owe you for this,” Angelo remarks.
“You know me so well.” Ares’s lips twitch.
“What do you want?”
“You’re starting from a clean slate.” Ares points out. “I want a say in who you choose as replacements for these idiots, and a seat at the table for your council meetings every month.”
Angelo stares at him like he’s lost his mind. “You think we’re going to do business together?”
“Why not?” Ares shrugs. “I thought we put that whole family feud ugliness behind us. After all, look how well that turned out. You have a beautiful wife, and a baby—”
“Don’t talk about my wife or daughter,” Angelo growls.
“Touchy subject?” Ares lifts a brow.
“You put my wife and I through hell,” Angelo reminds him. “If you had an honorable bone in your body, you wouldn’t have sat on those secrets for years.”
“Well, I can’t say anyone has ever described me as honorable,” Ares admits. “But we were rivals then. You can’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same in my position.”
Angelo clenches his jaw and refrains from answering.
Our feud with the Stavros family began with our grandfathers. We were born into it, and it was a given that we’d hate each other, too. But Ares and his brothers stoked that contention at every opportunity when we were growing up on the island together.
I can’t imagine Angelo will like this concession, and I already know I’ll never hear the end of it.
“I’ll think about it,” Angelo tells him, putting it off for now.
“What are you going to do with all of them?” Ares asks. “I don’t suppose Romeo feels like barbecuing for a whole week.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Angelo mutters.
I already have a plan in place using the supplies from our private lockers, but Ares doesn’t need to know about it. Disappearing this many people at once isn’t a turn-and-burn situation.
My phone vibrates with a notification, alerting me that our guests have arrived. I tell them to wait until I give the all clear because Ares needs to fuck off first.
“How are you planning to spin this?” Ares questions. “Financial crimes? Dark sexual underworld connection? Ties to the Bratva?”
Angelo glances at me, subtly letting me know this is my problem. I grunt in response.
“As always, a pleasure to work with.” Ares tosses me a lazy grin. “You have such a way with words.”
Angelo checks his watch, urging us along. “We need to go. We’re losing time.”
“I’ll have my men move the vehicles,” Ares says. “Let’s reconvene in a week, and we’ll start damage control. My place or yours?”
“I’ll call you,” Angelo grits out.
“Looking forward to it.” Ares saunters off with his men in tow.
I send out a message, and one of our guards brings in the escorts I’ve been paying to keep tabs on Riccardo. I asked Jasmine and Honey to enlist a third trusted companion, and I expected it to be one of Riccardo’s other regulars. Instead, when they walk in, there’s a familiar face beside them.
Gabi’s friend, Chantel.
She’s a burlesque dancer at the IVI Cat House, so she probably met the other women when they were contracted with The Society.
That’s where Riccardo found Jasmine and Honey, before they went private.
Regardless, all the women know how this works, and they’ll be paid for their silence.
But judging by the immediate tension in my brothers, this development is a problem.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Angelo scrapes a hand over his face.
“Is there an issue?” Chantel quirks a brow at him. “You said you needed three of us. Here we are.”
“Oh, this is going to be good.” Rafe chuckles. “Cristian’s going to lose his shit.”
“Why?” Chantel fires back. “It’s none of his business how I earn some extra cash. Besides, you already know me. I’m trustworthy.”
“And how does Marco feel about this?” Rafe asks.
“Well, first of all, Marco doesn’t own me,” she says. “And since I’m sworn to secrecy, he doesn’t know. Besides, it’s just pictures, right? No identifying features. That’s what the brief was.”
“If this goes sideways, it’s on you.” Angelo shoots me a look.
“She’s good. Don’t worry about it.”
“Thank you, Romeo.” Chantel tips her chin at me. “I always knew I liked you.”
I nod, and Angelo fixes his attention on Rafe. “Take the women, and meet us out there.”