Chapter Thirteen
Skip
“This is so fucking fun,” I grin, looking around the room at all the men loaded down with enough weaponry to start a war.
Which, I guess… is the plan.
“This is a nightmare,” Bones mutters. “And you’re a lunatic.”
“Hey,” I shrug. “Don’t yuck my yum, brother.”
Before Bones can fire back, someone near the door straightens.
“The Don’s here.”
I turn and damn near whistle.
Maverick…at least, I think it’s Maverick…walks in like he owns the oxygen in the air, and we’re all just borrowing it. The suit is custom-cut, hugging his massive frame. His chin is lifted in that effortless, terrifying way that says I do not negotiate…I fucking command.
This isn’t the same man who sits in our kitchen inhaling pancakes and bitching about bad coffee.
This is Don Moretti.
Straight-up mafia royalty.
“You’re fucking hot,” I smirk when he stops next to Bones and me. “If I didn’t already have my perfect man in my life… I’d totally fuck you. Hell, I might’ve even let you fuck me, and that’s not even my kink.”
For just a second…blink, and you’d miss it…the stone-cold expression cracks. Maverick’s mouth twitches.
“You’re too fucking much even for a man as powerful as myself,” he says.
“Oh,” I nod. “Cocky, are we?”
“I am a Don, Skip," he says flatly. “Cocky is in the job description.”
The man before me isn’t the Maverick we’ve grown to love…he’s a God amongst his men. I know he has an image to uphold, but I just can’t seem to help myself.
“Yeah, but you’re extra cocky,” I counter. “Like, walk-into-a-room-and-it-gets-pregnant cocky.”
Bones groans and rubs the bridge of his nose. “Please stop talking.”
“Might be too late,” I say cheerfully. “I think I felt myself ovulate.”
Maverick lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head.
“Focus,” he finally says, smoothing the front of his jacket with the ease of a king preparing to walk into war.
“Right,” I nod. “Business first. Flirt later.”
“Skip,” Bones warns.
“Oh, relax,” I say. “I only flirt with two types of men: the ones I want to fuck and the ones who are so powerful they might murder me for fun. Maverick happens to be both.”
Maverick lifts a brow, amused and dangerous all at once.
“I see,” he says. “And which category does Eli fall into?”
My entire mood shifts in a heartbeat.
“Neither,” I say, smirk gone. “He’s my future.”
Maverick studies me for a long moment…Don mask firmly back in place…then nods once.
They all know my flirtatious nature is harmless, but I make a mental note to tone it back some. I don’t want Eli ever thinking he’s not enough for me.
“Then let’s make sure we all live long enough to see it.”
“Poor Cortéz made a mistake when he attacked your estate and harmed your family,” I say, sweeping my gaze across the room full of armed-to-the-teeth killers. Maverick’s and ours. “He might’ve survived if he’d just left you alone.”
“Negative,” Maverick growls, the word sharp enough to cut steel. “The Shadows are my fucking family, too. Cortéz signed his death warrant the moment he targeted you.”
Maverick steps forward and lifts his chin with that terrifying, regal confidence. He doesn’t shout, but his voice is loud enough to be heard by everyone around us.
“And what fucking happens when you mess with Don Moretti’s family?”
The response is instant…explosive!
“WAR!”
The sound is so loud it rattles the walls, shakes dust from the beams, vibrates in my damn bones.
Hell, I’m pretty sure the entire Valley just felt that quake.
Maverick smiles.
A dark, lethal, Don smile.
“The threat against my family was enough to grab my attention,” he says, voice cold enough to frost steel as Spike steps up beside him.
“I’ve had men digging for months to uncover everything they could on this fucker and Los Fantasmas.
But then he attacks my estate. Kills members of my family in the home I promised them would be safe. Innocents. Children. My oldest friend.”
His jaw flexes. His fingers curl. His eyes go dead.
“He wanted my attention,” Maverick continues, a slow, dangerous rumble. “Well, now he has it. Except we’re not just going to dismantle his entire fucking cartel…”
He leans forward just slightly, the entire room holding its breath.
“We’re going to do it very… fucking… painfully.”
A ripple of raw, feral energy rolls through the men…our guys, his guys…it doesn’t matter. In this moment, we’re all predators with the same target.
“This isn’t just war, brother,” Spike says, stepping shoulder-to-shoulder with him, eyes just as deadly. “This is revenge.”
And holy hell… the room feels it.
The shift. The promise.
The beginning of the end for Los Fantasmas.
“Maverick, choose your top three men and meet us in the war room,” Spike says. “We have a battle to plan.”
So…fucking…fun.
***
Spike stands at the head of the table, Bones and Tank flanking him.
Foster’s already tapping through security logs, keeping an eye on the grounds…
and the family down below. Knuckles leans back with his arms crossed, Crusher’s cracking his knuckles like warming up for murder yoga, and I’m…
well, being my charmingly volatile self.
Across from us sits Maverick and his three handpicked men. Luca, and two others who look like they were raised on gunpowder and discipline.
Spike wastes no time.
“We combed the entire compound last night and again this morning,” he says. “Every sensor, every drone angle, every perimeter point. Nothing. No breach. The letter from Cortéz was a lie.”
A low, dangerous ripple goes around the table with the reminder of Cortéz’s threat.
Spike continues, “Once most of Maverick’s people pull back, I’ll allow the family topside. Until then, they stay in the bunker.”
My chest tightens with the thought of Eli…but I shove it aside. Focus, Skip. War now, pretty soft boy later.
Spike turns to Maverick. “Status on Cortéz?”
Maverick nods once, his Don persona slipping fully into place. As attractive as this powerful beast of a man is, I’m actually starting to miss our little Maverick. Our Outlaw.
“My men have eyes on him. He’s still in Mexicali. Hasn’t moved. But he’s purchased several properties and supply units in Palm Springs.”
“So he thinks he’s already moved in,” Bones says.
“He thinks he already owns it,” Maverick corrects, voice a low growl. “He believes the Shadows will run.”
A laugh slips out of me.
“Cute,” I say. “He thinks wrong.”
“Alright,” Spike says. “Let’s get into it.”
“Want to see my new toy, boys?” Foster grins. Seconds later, the normally black table is replaced by digital images of maps.
“How the hell did you do that?” I ask, moving my arms away from the table.
Foster points up, and it’s only then that I notice the projector that was not there yesterday.
“Fancy,” I smile. “What else can you project?”
“Focus,” Spike orders, shaking his head. “We don’t have time for table porn.”
“Hey, I was going to suggest we watch a family-friendly movie,” I smirk, winking at Luca sitting next to Maverick. “He’s right, by the way. I was totally going to ask for table porn.”
“First priority,” Spike says, “is identifying Cortéz’s foothold here. One of Maverick’s tech guys got together with Foster this morning and confirmed a warehouse purchased through a shell company.”
Maverick nods. “We burn it.”
“Not burn,” Spike sighs. “We send a message.”
Maverick smirks. “My messages burn.”
I snort. “Let the man burn something, Spike. He’s had a week.”
Bones glares at me. “Stop encouraging arson. It’s too fucking early.”
“Stop hating joy.”
Tank leans forward. “We can hit the Palm Springs location tonight. Quiet entry. Controlled fire. No civilians.” He glares at Maverick. “And no spreading that shit to the whole block.”
“Relax,” Maverick says. “My men know how to light a controlled blaze.”
“Destruction and a message,” I say, licking my lips. “Delicious.”
“And after that?” Foster asks.
Maverick taps the border map. “Cortéz’s primary warehouse in Mexicali. He’s fortified it, but he’s predictable. Runners, lieutenants, stash points. We take the legs out from under him first.”
Bones smirks. “So we cripple his operations before we kill him?”
“Yes,” Maverick says. “Then we corner him. Then we end him.”
Crusher cracks his knuckles in excitement.
Spike looks around the table at his officers, Maverick’s assassins, and me…his wildcard, his chaos grenade.
Spike’s voice is as cold as steel when he talks. “Cortéz thinks he has us in a bind. He has no idea we’ve teamed up with the Italians. Mistake one. Mistake two…he won’t be expecting us to take this to his door.”
“Los Fantasmas is filled with hundreds of drug-fueled soldiers,” Foster reminds us. “But they’re not disciplined. They’re not trained to think. They move because someone tells them to move. You take away the brain? The body collapses. If we kill Cortéz first, we’ll just be sweeping up stragglers.”
Knuckles nods. “Hit him at his weakest spots, and the entire body falls.”
“Less clean-up,” Maverick adds calmly, like he’s discussing wine pairings and not mass homicide.
Luca agrees with a single sharp nod, but the rest of Maverick’s men stay silent and serpent-still.
“True,” I say, kicking my boots up onto the edge of the table until Tank swats them off…fucker. “But if we kill him first, then we don’t get to watch his face as his entire empire crumbles around him. And honestly? That’s half the fun.”
Tank huffs, “Then we don’t kill him. Not right away. We capture him.” His eyes darken, voice dropping. “Let him be Bones and Skip’s plaything. Keep him alive long enough to feed him updates as we dismantle every piece of his life. And we carve whatever answers we need out of him in the meantime.”
Bones grins. It’s unsettling for most. But for me? I can already see his brain working as it decides which of his toys he wants to use first.
Maverick nods. “If you capture him, scan his entire body for a tracking device before you even bring him near the compound. Not just his clothes. His skin.”
Knuckles blinks. “In his skin?”
“He’s the head of a cartel,” Maverick says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “When you run an empire, and a multi-million-dollar corporation on top of it, giving your most trusted men a way to track you can be vital.”
Crusher whistles. “A multi-million-dollar corporation, huh?”
I raise my brows. “Brother… you own a multi-million-dollar company?”
“Several,” he smirks, adjusting his suit sleeve like the dramatic bastard he is.
“Damn,” Crusher laughs. “No wonder you’re always disappearing for weeks at a time.”
Spike ignores all of us and turns to Foster.
“Bring up the blueprints to Cortéz’s home. We need a clean path in, a silent extraction, and a way to transport him out without detection. We’re not walking in blind.”
“Already ahead of you,” Foster says, shaking his head.
“Only an idiot lets a legitimate construction company build their narco-palace. Blueprints always end up in a system somewhere. Don’t worry, brother.
There are no blueprints of our compound.
I made sure of it. Well… that’s not entirely true.
There are blueprints. They’re just not real. ”
I chuckle. Smart bastard.
With a few quick clicks, the table lights up.
Blueprints flicker across the display…walls, blind spots, heat-scan overlays, ventilation shafts, escape routes, load-bearing columns, weak points.
Every secret of Cortéz’s fortress spread open.
And the more we see…
…the more determined everyone becomes.
My heart kicks hard against my ribs.
War is coming. And we’re bringing a fucking army.
A slow, hungry smile curls across my lips as I lean back in my chair.
“Oh, boys…” I drawl, unable to help myself. “This is going to be fun.”