Chapter Seventeen
Skip
I storm into Abby’s shop so fast that the bell above the door nearly rips off.
The first thing I see?
Riley, Sunny, and Abby collapsed in Spike’s arms, shaking, crying, broken.
The second thing I see is three of the four men who should’ve been watching my fucking man.
Not gone. Not missing. Taken.
And every breath in my body turns to fire.
“Why the hell didn’t you help them?” I snarl, stepping forward so fast Russell flinches. My hand is already on my gun. Safety off. One blink away from blowing his skull out the back window.
Russell’s hands shoot up. “Listen, brother.”
“Choose your next words carefully,” I hiss, “because the only thing keeping you breathing right now is the hope that Eli is still alive.”
“We…we followed protocol,” he says shakily.
“We’ve always been told that if something goes down, we prioritize the most precious members.
We saw Knuckles and the new guy surrounded by three men, and we didn’t want to draw attention to the girls inside.
We did what we were supposed to. We knew Knuckles could take care of him and the man long enough for us to get them back. ”
Protocol.
Tank’s voice rumbles from the doorway. “Trev… remind everyone…who was the new guy that was with Knuckles?”
Trevor exhales like a man already digging his own grave.
“That was Eli,” he says quietly. “Skip’s man.”
“Exactly! Someone fucking precious,” Tank steps forward, each word low, shaking, deadly, “So, what I’m hearing is that four of my most deadly snipers sat in their positions, with clear fucking shots, and watched as Cortéz took not only an officer…
” His voice fractures with fury. “…but also, another officer’s precious boy? ”
“Well, Jared was killed,” Russell says quietly.
Tank takes another step. The men shrink.
“My fucking bad,” Tank says, his voice deadly. “Three of my most deadly snipers sat in their positions and did nothing. Is that what you’re telling me?” he roars.
They all nod.
And something inside me snaps…clean in half.
I shove forward, vision going red.
“Where the fuck were your instincts?” I scream. “That’s my man! He’s not a fighter. He doesn’t stand a fucking chance out there! And Knuckles…Knuckles is fucking dying! He can’t protect himself, let alone both of them!”
Spike steps into my path.
“Skip.”
“No!” I shove at him, shaking, barely holding myself upright. “They fucking knew! They watched Eli get taken! He…he can’t handle stress, he…he fucking passes out. Spike, what if they hurt him when he passes out? What if they take that opportunity to fucking rape…Fuck, I can’t breathe.”
My voice cracks.
“We’re getting them back,” Spike says quietly. “Foster’s working his ass off at this very moment to find us a lead.”
I don’t look away from the men who failed us. My voice drops to something cold enough to frost glass.
“If Eli dies because of your cowardice…” I lift my gun just enough for the metal to catch the light. All three men go still. “There won’t be a place on this earth you can hide from me.”
“And we won’t be making your death quick,” Bones growls as he steps into the shop.
He pulls Sunny into his arms with one brutal motion, shielding her.
“Whatever they do to that man, I’ll do to you tenfold.
They punch him in the face? I’ll take a fucking hammer to yours.
They cut him?” His voice drops to something unholy.
“I’ll set fire to your skin. You got me? ”
The men nod…slow, terrified, not daring to breathe wrong.
They fucking should be terrified.
“I have something,” Foster pants out as he rushes inside. “But it was… way too easy.”
“A trap?” Bones asks, glancing at Abby before sighing and pulling her against his body beside Sunny. She immediately hides her face against his chest and cries. Sunny cuddles up against her and wraps her arm around Abby’s back. Both feeling secure and safe in Bones' arms.
These fucking assholes keep scaring our club princess with their presence. She can’t escape Los Fantasmas, and that thought amps my anger up even more.
My fury snaps back into razor focus. I let it take me. Steady me. Fuel me.
“I think so,” Foster says. “But we can flip it on them. They don’t know we’re allied with the Italians. If we send in a team to ‘fall’ for the trap… they’ll relax. Drop their guard. And that’s when we send Maverick’s men.”
“Solid plan,” Spike nods. “Let’s rework it a bit. We move in four waves. First two waves are decoys. Shadows only. Keep them busy. Confuse them. Make them think we’re desperate.”
The shop is crowded with Shadows and a handful of Moretti soldiers, but you could hear a pin drop as everyone strains to listen to their President.
“The third wave,” Spike continues, “will be Moretti soldiers. They hit hard and fast. No mercy. We take out everyone but Cortéz. Orders will be to shoot to cripple him. I want that fucker alive.”
“And wave four?” I bite out, not bothering to hide the rage in my voice.
Spike turns to me.
“We’re wave four,” he says quietly. “You, me, Bones, Tank, Maverick, Crusher, and Foster. We focus on finding our men and bringing them home.”
My heartbeat is a war drum.
“Then let’s get going,” I snarl. “Every minute we stand here is another minute Cortéz thinks he owns my man.”
“Maverick is on his way with more of his men,” Foster says.
“Good,” Spike replies. “Have them meet us at the compound. We need the girls underground and every Shadow armed up yesterday.”
Foster turns to the cluster of Mafia soldiers…black tactical gear, emotionless faces, discipline rolling off them in waves.
“Your Don has ordered you five to head to the coordinates I’m sending now,” he tells them. “You’re to scope the area, mark every heat signature, and report back directly to him. Do not engage.”
One of the soldiers nods once. “Sí, signore. We move now.”
“Blackout van is parked right in front of the door,” Foster tells us.
“Good job, brother,” Spike says. “Let’s load the girls up and head home.”
“You three,” Tank growls, pointing at the snipers. “You’re coming with us. Get in the fucking van.”
“I’ll meet you there,” I tell Spike, stepping around the van and straddling my bike.
It won’t take long to reach the compound… five minutes tops… but I’m hoping the air will help clear my damn head. Rage and worry keep clawing at each other for first place, and I need to fucking focus.
***
Newsflash: The air didn’t help shit.