Chapter 6
Slay
Even in the middle of summer, San Francisco was cold and foggy. I didn’t care that it was almost noon and the fog would burn off soon. The crisp breeze made it feel like winter.
I shivered on the docks as we waited for Remo and Fabio. The brothers had picked the location, which was fine. They had a badass yacht I’d been on before. But of course, we couldn’t board it until they arrived and they were twenty minutes late.
“Fuck, it’s cold,” I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest. “Where the hell are they?”
“Fabio’s text said they were ten minutes out,” Jefe replied, showing no emotion. He stood like a marble pillar with his hands in his pockets. Silvia and baby Chance were probably occupying his mind. He didn’t show it, but I knew that leaving them hadn’t been easy.
“My nuts are getting numb,” Tequila said. “They’re not used to being out in the cold. A hot kitchen is where they’re most comfortable. Sweating in my shorts.”
I snorted. “That’s gross man. I don’t want to know you have sweaty balls while you’re making my food.”
“Did you bring any burritos? I’m hungry.” Our prospect, Corcoran rubbed his belly. “I’m on a strict eating schedule. Gotta keep these bullets fueled.” He pointed out his biceps and grinned.
“Those tiny golf balls don’t need much fuel, homey.” Tequila laughed and curled his arms to show off his muscles. “Not like mine.”
I shook my head and strolled along the harbor. A pissing match would start with those two if Remo and Fabio didn’t arrive soon.
I admired the blue water in the bay.
Cass would love it out here in South Beach Harbor with all the fancy yachts and sailboats.
When we were going together in high school, I’d brought her to San Francisco once to see the seals sunbathing on Pier 39.
She’d mentioned how she’d like to go boating sometime, and I’d told her I’d make it happen someday.
And I still could if she’d give me the chance.
A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as I remembered how perfect that day had been, with a gentle breeze in the air, clear-blue skies, and my girl in my arms. Made me miss Cass even more than before.
It’d been a week since the awesome kiss we shared. I was still reeling from it and had given myself some of the best hand jobs in the shower while thinking of us frantically kissing in her café.
Totally, the best kiss of my life, which was kind of pathetic.
At my age, I should’ve had a lot of awesome and unforgettable make out sessions. But I’d had a hard time opening myself up to other woman after Cass broke my heart.
If club business hadn’t been my top priority, I would’ve returned to her café the next day. Only important shit in the club could keep me from her.
Quino, GQ, and I had been looking into Alek Kozlov. Quino was our computer guy and GQ needed a project.
For months, all GQ had been doing was sitting around and drinking himself stupid.
I got it. Getting run over by a garbage truck fucked with a person.
But all his physical injuries were mostly healed.
He could get back on his hog and hit the open road if he wanted.
I’d told him a road trip would do him good, but he’d rejected my idea.
Gideon Quick, a.k.a GQ, needed time to mentally heal. He had some permanent scars on his face and shoulder that messed him up most. He’d been a ladies’ man before the accident. If I had to guess, he was probably worried no woman would want him now.
Sure, some shallow chicks might pass him by, but I believed there was someone for everyone. GQ just needed to put himself out there again. Get back on that horse, hog, and ride.
Instead, MC brother drove an old, rusted out Chevy pickup he’d been restoring before his accident. And so, he didn’t join us for this meeting because we all rode our Harleys.
While Quino and GQ researched the Kozlov Bratva, I’d spent dozens of hours tightening the security system, again, and training members on how I wanted the property protected.
But no matter how busy I’d been, Cass hadn’t been far from my mind.
Fortunately, I’d been receiving daily updates from Steve. It seemed the Russian hadn’t been seen, and that concerned the fuck out of me.
Something was coming. I felt it in the marrow of my bones.
“There come the billionaires,” Corcoran said. “Looks like they brought a full crew. Are we going out onto the water? I get seasick.” He put his hand on his stomach.
“Fabio hadn’t said anything about taking the yacht out,” I replied as I rejoined Corcoran and the others.
“I don’t want to hear a peep out of any of you,” Jeje told us in a severe tone. “Speak only when I give you permission.”
“Yes, boss,” Corcoran said.
Tequila and I nodded our acknowledgements.
I peered at Fabio, The Italian mobster sported dark shades, an expensive suit, and a terrifying scowl, while his older Remo walked at a slower pace behind him. That seemed strange. Remo was the head of the San Francisco district. Fabio was number two in charge.
“Jefe.” Fabio extended his hand and shook Prez’s as if he was leading the meeting. “Sorry to keep you waiting. We had a scheduling conflict.”
Well, things were getting stranger and stranger. They were the ones who picked the day and time, but there was a scheduling conflict? This was not how business worked with the Ferraris. Ever.
“No worries,” Jefe said.
“Let’s board and get some drinks.” Fabio fanned his hand out, treating us like guests. He conducted business very differently from his brother. More civilized and less arrogant.
Years ago, when we first started working with the Ferrari family, Jefe had called Remo a power-tripping pussy. Prez did not like the oldest son of Pietro Ferrari. If it hadn’t been for Fabio being Jefe’s point of contact, the club would have nothing to do with the Ferrari Mafia.
Jefe jerked his head for us to follow him onto the boat.
I took up the caboose, letting everyone go before me. For no other reason than I was a nosy bastard and hoped I could hear the brothers. Sure enough…
“Make her get the girls. This meeting is important,” Fabio hissed through gritted teeth at his brother.
“Anna isn’t responding to any of my texts,” Remo replied. “I’m sure she forgot about the girls’ music camp.”
“Then ask Zia to get them and focus on why we’re meeting with the Kings.”
“She’s getting ready to go to Europe. We’ll just make this meeting short.”
“Whatever,” Fabio shot back, and muttered something in Italian. I assume curse words. His footsteps grew louder behind me, which made me pick up my pace. The tension rolling off him was palpable, despite the breezy blowing in from the ocean.
I couldn’t imagine what was going on with the brothers. But it sounded like Remo was having some issues with his wife and he needed to get his daughters from an activity.
This was very weird. Since when did Mafia men have time to deal with their kids?
Maybe my impression of mobsters was dated.
Nah, I doubted it. I knew the Ferraris were old world Italians. Pietro believed in the old patriarchal ways and had a distinct order he lived by. Women were the nurturers and caretakers of the kids. Men dominated and controlled the home. So, what the fuck was going on with Remo’s wife?
Not my worry.
I went over to where Jefe and the others were seated at large banquet table and took the vacant seat. I was the next highest-ranking officer, which naturally put me next to the president.
“My staff has prepared lunch.” Fabio snapped his fingers. “I hope you like seafood and pasta.”
“Sure,” Jefe replied. But I knew better. The only seafood he liked was the kind that didn’t taste fishy. The fish sticks in the blue box were all he ate, with a lot of lemon squeezed on it and ketchup. Yeah, it was disgusting. I hoped there was other stuff he could eat.
Trays of clams and other seafood I couldn’t make out were placed on the table. A couple of bowls of pasta with shrimp were set out next. It wasn’t looking good for Jefe, then more food was put out…
Baskets of bread and butter.
Bottles of wine.
Wood boards with olives and cheese.
Food kept coming until every inch of the center of the large table was filled, and I was relieved Jefe would be able to eat something.
But again, I knew better. My MC brothers and I weren’t fancy and refined like Fabio and Remo.
We had big appetites, and ate red meat multiple times a day, preferably in tacos and burritos. Corn tortilla chips and salsa were the only vegetables we approved of.
What was on the table made me think we’d been transported to a foreign country, and I didn’t speak the language.
After we left the meeting, we’d all be starving, especially Corcoran who appeared to be in shock. No question our first stop would be at In and Out for double cheeseburgers, animal-style fries, and milk shakes, before we made the ride home.
“Dig in.” Fabio lifted a wine glass.
“And let’s get down to business.” Remo sat on the opposite side of the table from Fabio. He served himself a variety of foods and started eating.
Jefe nodded to me to get on with it.
“As I mentioned, Kozlov Bratva is in our territory. But we don’t know why. We just assumed you might.” My throat was dry, probably from the salt air.
Or maybe it was nerves.
Hearing myself, it sounded silly to come all this way when we could’ve just discussed Alek over the phone, but that wasn’t how the Ferraris did business.
“No need to assume anything. I always know what’s going on in my district,” Remo said with a full mouth. The arrogant asshole left us hanging. He wanted us to ask questions rather than him telling us what he apparently knows.
Fabio drank his wine and stared at his brother. Something was definitely off between them. In the past, they were friendly with each other, like business partners. I wasn’t getting any friendly vibes off either of them.
Jefe cleared his throat, a sound I knew well and my cue to ask questions.