Chapter 1
ONE
DECLAN
PRESENT DAY
The incessant ticking of the clock within the quiet MC room chips away at my well-placed persona the longer I’m forced to remain at this table. Each passing second forces me to play nice with the shadowy figure seated across from me. He lounges casually in the chair my MC President, Owen, retrieved for him long moments ago. The smoke from his cigarette fills the space around him, making him look like an illusion.
If only this were a mere trick of the mind. I would do anything to make this meeting exist solely in my imagination.
He sits with an arrogance only men in power possess. The nonchalance oozes from him, even as his violet eyes size up each person in this room like he has been trained to do. Like we had been trained to do. From the moment we were both evacuated from our mother's womb, him first, then me seconds later, we’d been forced to live a life where the wrong assessment of a person could spell certain death. Fuck that saying of innocent until proven guilty; the phrase “enemies until proven otherwise” had been beaten into our heads over and over again, until it eventually stuck. Never once was I allowed to believe the other men in the room were here for anything other than what we had. The list of associates trying to take everything the Morellis had worked so hard for all these years was ever-growing.
I nearly snort to myself. The Morellis hadn't worked hard for anything, ever. We simply took what we deemed as ours, leaving a string of pointless deaths and bad blood in our wake.
For what feels like the thousandth time within the last two weeks, I want to kick myself for calling him in the first place. When Owen had asked me, I thought it would help. Little did I know, one missed call from me would drive my estranged brother out of the shadows to come play with us.
When he first showed up at the clubhouse, I tried my best to ignore the intense flashing neon sign that was Romeo Morelli. That night, he walked in just past closing, and I surprised even myself as I kept my cool. I simply told him we were closed for the evening and turned my back on the only brother I shared the same blood with. I didn’t even worry about locking up as I ran away like a little bitch. I kept my head down and practically sprinted up the stairs, then locked myself in my apartment like a pouty teenager.
I’ll admit, not my proudest moment.
After I shut myself away, it seemed as though Owen had then seen to our unexpected guest. I still wasn’t sure what Rome had said to him to deem it necessary to invite him back for this meeting. In the back of my mind, I know that if he’s here, it must be important. My brother is not a man who travels much further than the slums of Brooklyn. But even if this meeting were for dire circumstances, I have a feeling he’s here for something more and he's withholding the information for some reason.
Even as I try to keep my gaze lowered to the scuffed and burnt table below me, it seems as if nothing can keep my curiosity from getting the better of me. I only look up when I know he isn’t looking at me, catching fleeting glimpses of the man I could have become. In another life, I was this man.
He sits regally as he listens to whatever Owen is saying to him. Maybe it’s pure stupidity that causes me to block out the leader of The Insidious as he speaks. But even though I know I should be paying attention to the words being exchanged, I can’t stop myself from staring at my twin.
His inky black hair looks tousled, as if he just rolled out of bed for this moment, but I know otherwise. Rome always did like to look his best, even if his best used to be an old faded band t-shirt. Like the one he bought after we snuck out of the estate to see one of our favorite bands when we were fourteen. The shirt may have looked less than dapper on him, but that didn’t mean he looked any less put together. Whereas my hair was actually tousled from rolling out of bed to be at this fucking meeting, I knew he had intentionally styled his hair. Just another piece of armor to don for the battle we were always trained to anticipate.
Much like the designer jacket he has slung over the back of his chair and the loafers he selected specifically for this meeting, or the gold Rolex that shimmers against his ink-covered wrist. Everything this man puts on his body is intentional and necessary for the way he wants to be perceived.
The necklace he wears around his neck shimmers under the mid-morning light streaming through the windows of the clubhouse. My attention remains snagged on the Morelli family crest swinging like a pendulum from his neck as he leans forward. Memories of chucking my matching necklace into the East River the night I left New York forever flash in my mind.
Another cloud of smoke gathers around him as he exhales, snuffing the cigarette in the ashtray on the table. I watch the remaining smoke pass his lips before they curl into a grin. His eyes dance around the room, briefly pausing on a picture by the door before returning to Owen.
“If I haven’t said it yet, these are pretty nice digs you have here, McGregor,” Rome says as he looks at my boss.
“We like to think so,” Owen replies. Without looking, I know he holds a sneer on his lips as he speaks the words. Like the rest of us, he’s wondering why Rome called this meeting in the first place.
He smirks as his eyes flick my way briefly before straying back to Owen. “This isn’t normally the type of place one thinks of when the words ‘Motorcycle Club’ are said.” He leans forward until he’s bracing his arms against the table in front of him. “I have to say,” he says, the chuckle under his breath barely restrained. “After the rumors I’ve heard of The Insidious Seven, I didn’t expect this,” he gestures to the room around us. “It’s much… cleaner than I pictured,” he says with an arrogance that grates on my nerves.
“That’s because you’re not looking in the right places to find dirt,” Liam says from beside me. I don’t even need to look at him to tell he’s scowling at our visitor.
Li is not only the club’s VP, but also my best friend. Out of all my brothers, he’s the one who knows the most about my past. We’ve spent too many years together in The Insidious to not know every detail about each other. In fact, all of my other MC brothers are aware of my upbringing in a prominent mobster family, including Tanner, who has only been with the MC for almost two years now. This is the family I chose for myself years ago. And unlike the one I was raised in, there are no secrets in this family.
Li just happens to be the only one who knows about… her. Alana .
My chest hurts at the thought of her name. I want to rub my sternum to ease the ache, but I stop myself and force my eyes on Romeo again. I will not show weakness right now. Not ever.
“Morelli’s never show weakness!”
My late father's words bounce around my skull, imprinting them anew. I try to banish the memories before they resurface. The deceit disguised as love, tears blending with blood until a thick river of it drowned us all. That dark day in my past fights to be remembered as I stare at the same face I see in the mirror daily.
“Yes, I suppose neither of our houses are very clean, are they, Mr. Santos?” Romeo’s deep voice rumbles from his chest as he eyes Li, one dark eyebrow raised as if baiting my friend to act out.
“I caught wind of a little job gone sideways a few months back. Messy business, working with the feds, that is. Even the most novice of us all know better than to get involved with the government, the cartel, and the mafia. And at the same time?” He laughs to himself, the noise causing me to gnash my teeth together. “But you not only got involved, you painted a big, red target on your backs for all interested parties,” he smiles darkly at my friend. “One might be forced to believe a bunch of amateurs run this outfit. It’s no wonder my brother reached out for help.”
Liam remains stock-still, but I can feel the tension radiating off of him in suffocating waves. What my brother is referring to is the job we ran a few months back. Li happened to be the head of that particular mission. He may have gotten his girl and saved the rest of the MC from incarceration, but that didn’t mean we all walked away completely unscathed.
My arm burns, as if reminding me of the scar left behind from that day. The day when everything went according to plan, only to be shattered in one fiery instant. But as painful as the burn was, nothing felt worse than the thought that Liam’s sister could have been condemned to a fiery death.
Images of pouty lips and soft eyes come to the forefront of my mind when I think of Sofee. And just as fast, I shove them back down where they belong. I don’t need to have my mind consumed by thoughts of the curvy brat while I'm confronting my past. Not to mention the emotions she provokes.
Hate, resentment, irritation... insatiable lust.
I mentally slap myself before I’m assaulted by the need to rub my palm against my now throbbing length to relieve some of the pressure building there. I’m immediately pissed off and turned on by the five-foot-nothing smartass Latina.
Yes, I know. I’m the worst kind of friend to have these feelings toward my best friend's little sister. That's precisely why I force my thoughts away from her and back to the issue at hand.
Even though I’m the only one with a physical reminder of that day, the echoes of the past still haunt us all. They still follow us around and whisper to each of us that this isn’t over. Something big is brewing; we can all feel it.
And that’s the whole reason I’m even entertaining the fact that I’m in the same room as my brother. The same brother I left all those years ago, after he and the rest of the fucking Morellis crushed my soul so thoroughly.
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” I fling my gaze toward the new voice to see Hayden staring at my brother so darkly even I feel threatened. “But didn’t that call end before it even started?” My blond friend flashes his pearly white, straight teeth in a smile, but I hear the edge to his words. Hayden is one of my craziest MC brothers. We may call him Ken, because of his overall pretty boy persona, but one shouldn't be fooled by the tame nickname. He’s always the first one to launch himself into the middle of a brawl, and will just as easily come out the other side bloody and smiling like a psycho.
Tanner snorts beside him, drawing my attention to the grinning ginger. “Isn’t that the greatest joke of all?” He tilts his head, his hazel eyes studying Romeo. “Dec would choose prison or death at the hands of some drug lord, rather than dealing with his asshole brother.” He grins widely at Rome, effortlessly exuding his charismatic charm.
I can practically feel Romeo’s hatred for the dynamic duo as he bristles with irritation. We may be identical in almost every way, but Rome has never been good at schooling his anger when tested. Hiding my emotions is something I’ve always succeeded at where he has failed.
“And since we’re all still sitting around this table listening to you ramble on and on,” Coop’s baritone voice resonates across the table, drawing every eye toward him. He crosses his big arms over his broad chest, looking every inch of intimidating. “We didn’t require your ‘help’, as you refer to it.” He nudges Ace beside him. “He probably would have been late to the party anyway. After all, how much time do you spend playing with your hair?”
A unified chuckle fills the room at my brother’s expense. Then, we all fall into a hush, waiting for Ace to get his licks in. His deep-set, dark eyes sparkle with humor as a slight smile forms on his lips, but he does nothing more. He simply remains seated, stares at Rome, and leisurely twirls his menacing black hunting blade between his hands.
I’ve seen lesser men literally piss their pants under the quiet scrutiny of Ace Donovan. Seen them tremble just from the silent threat he poses. Shit, even I feel the urge to look away from his penetrating, murderous eyes that aren’t even focused on me.
I turn my attention back to Romeo at the end of the table. To his credit, he doesn't shrink under Ace’s scrutiny. If anything, he sits a little taller. His upper lip curls into a snarl that never rumbles from his chest. He sees the threat Ace bears over him and matches it with an equally silent one.
This. This right here. These are the moments I’m reminded that my twin is the leader of his own empire. The leader of the powerful Morelli family, their superior, their Boss... their Don.
A cold killer occupies the seat where my brother sits. The same cold killer I see reflected within myself so often. As much as I’ve tried to distance myself from my past, moments like this remind me that I can never truly escape it. The Morelli blood flows strongly through my veins, making every heartbeat a constant reminder of who I truly am.
Liar, killer, criminal, villain.
The words beat in time with my heart, solidifying what I’ve always known in my soul. That I’ve never been, and never will be, more than what I am right fucking now.
All of my brothers stare down the only one I actually share blood with, the one I shared a womb with. A hush descends on us all, the tension building until I’m sure one movement will have bodies launching across the table toward the threat.
It’s reasons like this that make me sit a little taller, knowing that I chose the right men to call my brothers. Brothers who would throw themselves into the line of fire for me, even if the gunfight has nothing to do with them. My “real” family could never hold a goddamn candle to these men.
“Enough.” Owen’s sharp command booms in the silent room, breaking the tension that seems to have expanded between all of us and the outsider in our midst. “Mr. Morelli has come here to extend a helping hand, and you will all sit and listen to what he has to say,” he says, furrowing his dark gray brows.
Romeo smiles smugly at Ace before glancing around the table, with a look of superiority written across his features. “Thank you, Mr. McGregor. It’s nice to see one of you has his testosterone in check.”
“Even if he acts like a feckin' uppity little shite,” Owen growls, his Irish accent lilting his voice slightly. Nobody looks away from Rome as they all chuckle quietly. “He came here with some information about our friend. And as much as I hate to say it, we might need his help in this matter,” he finishes.
Our friend , as Owen put it, is the one and only Antonio Pelosi. He’s the reason all of us have been on edge for the last few months. We dismantled his entire operation a few months ago, and it seems he’s taken to holding a grudge.
The operation to take Pelosi down may have gone as planned, but that didn’t mean there weren't loose strings in need of cutting. We were unaware that he had contingencies in place in case he was nabbed by an interested party. It wasn’t until we witnessed Sofee’s house being engulfed in flames that we realized his influence extended much further than we had anticipated. It turned out that he didn’t even need to utter a word for everything to go up in flames around us.
It didn’t take us long to come up with a plan until the issue could be resolved. It was made plainly obvious that Antonio didn’t fight fair and would go after anyone to get to the MC, even if that someone was innocent in all of this. So, as such, we’re all still taking turns shadowing the weaker among us, the females in our lives. Liam’s woman, Tatum, her expert hacker friend, Maxine, and especially Sofee, have a permanent bodyguard until we catch up with Pelosi and figure out what he’s planning for us.
Although, Tatum doesn’t really need a bodyguard, I would choose her on my side of a fight over most men. She simply chooses to indulge Liam's need to keep her safe, unlike Max, who despises being followed and ditches her guard at every turn. I’m just waiting for that one to come back and bite us in the ass.
And Sofee? Well, she doesn’t actually know that she’s being guarded. If she figured out we were following her, she would get her big brother, Detective Damon Santos, involved, and that’s something we just can’t allow.
If he got involved, he would take over completely, causing the MC to lose all control and freedom to handle the situation in the only way that would truly work. Damon would pursue all legal avenues, but we all know that the only way this ends is by taking the bloody backroads.
Though nothing has happened since the fire, that lingering feeling of impending doom just doesn't seem to go away. So we keep up with our security measures and wait. And wait, and wait. If I’m being honest, I just wish something would happen already so I have an excuse to shoot someone.
Having Sofee so close for these last few months has been scraping away at the thin rope corralling the exploding anger I keep buried inside. I need to hurt someone, and I fear that if this urge is not directed towards someone deserving, it will manifest in other ways. Other dark and stimulating ways.
Rome is the first to sit back in his seat, seemingly done with his posturing. One by one, everyone else around the table follows suit, setting aside their rising tempers for another time in order to get the info we’re all here for.
“As I was saying, you painted a huge target on your backs by pulling that job with Antonio,” Rome says as he reaches into his shirt pocket. We all watch silently as he pulls a new cigarette from the pack he keeps there, places it between his lips, and lights it on fire. He inhales deeply from the foul-smelling coffin nail before releasing the toxic smoke into the air. “Really big,” he breathes.
“We’ve established that part. We know we have to watch our backs now more than ever,” Liam growls. His temper is coming to the end of its chain the longer he watches Romeo.
“You’re gonna have to do more than that,” Rome snarks as he reaches into his jacket behind him and pulls out a handful of pictures. He flings them across the table toward the rest of us. They scatter around us like a black-and-white collage. The first one my eyes land on is of an empty kitchen. Another looks like a stripped bare bedroom. Every picture depicts the inside of a large, empty house.
“So, what? You moonlighting as a real estate agent?” Hayden asks, and Tanner finishes the thought. “Being a big bad mob boss isn't everything it’s cracked up to be?” he pouts.
Rome eyes them darkly while a slight grin tugs at his lips. “Those are pictures of the inside of the Pelosi household,” he says.
I barely contain my surprise as I look over the pictures once again. I’ve never personally been inside the Pelosi estate, but I’d always heard rumors about how immaculately lavish it was. Although studying these photos, one could argue otherwise.
When nobody speaks, Rome continues. “These pictures were taken about a month ago. My boys have some kind of run-in with one of the fucking Pelosis at least once a month. Only, when your boy was snagged by the suits, we haven’t seen or heard from a single one since,” he pauses to take another drag from his smoke. “So I got curious.”
“So they moved?” Owen asks. “That sounds like a good thing for you.”
Rome chuckles under his breath. “Quite the opposite.” He reaches into his other jacket pocket and produces a few more photos. These he places neatly in the center of the table for all of us to see. “These are the photos of the existing Pelosis, at least the ones we actually have pictures of, as they’re entering one of their other homes in New Jersey. They use this house as a vacation home. It seems they have taken up residence there for the time being.”
I eye the photos in front of me. When I lived in New York, I had only met one of the three brothers. His name was Demetry, but he’s dead now. A job Antonio was running had gone sideways from what I've heard. He was the middle brother, with Matteo being the eldest and Antonio the youngest. And then there was the baby of them all, a girl who has been so sheltered all her life that I had only ever heard rumors about her. I never understood their need to keep her a secret, but now, as I look at the photos in front of me, it's easy to see why.
She’s a walking bombshell. Though the photo is grainy, I can easily make out her sharp features and dark eyes. Her hair cascades like a sleek curtain around her shoulders, framing her perky tits in the low-cut dress she wears. She’s slim and tall, with a subtle hourglass figure that would leave most men speechless in her mere presence. Her hips curve gracefully, highlighting a taut ass that looks like you could bounce a quarter off of. She’s fucking gorgeous.
And she does absolutely nothing for me.
I flinch as the thought catches me off guard for a moment. But as I look at the photo, I find it to be true. Even though she is one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen, she doesn’t seem to hold a candle to the smart-mouthed, short, fiery pain in the ass that roams these halls.
I snap myself out of my thoughts before I become lost again. As I look over the remaining photos, I realize that the only other person I recognize is Papa Pelosi himself. And judging by the looks of him, he’s not long for this world. The image in my hand depicts a frail and gravely ill elderly man, confined to a small wheelchair with an oxygen tank attached to the back.
“That is the entirety of the Pelosi family apart from one person. The only person who really matters,” Rome says quietly as he takes one last drag from his cancer stick and then extinguishes it. “Matteo,” he says the name like a death sentence. “The oldest of the Pelosi brothers, the last one not dead or incarcerated, is not in any of those pictures. And he’s the only one that we all need to worry about.”
A hush descends on the room as if the universe is telling us all to listen.
He continues. “My sources say Matteo has gone on vacation to the south. They say he’s come to New Orleans to settle a debt.”
I swallow thickly as Rome finally locks eyes with me. He holds me within his violet gaze and refuses to release me as he finishes speaking.
“Matteo Pelosi has come here to destroy everything you hold dear, and he will stop at nothing until you all burn.”