31. Dante
I can’t remembera time when I wasn’t able to stay detached about death and violence. Dad started teaching me the art when I was so fucking young that some of my earliest memories are of helping dismember and dispose of some of his hits. It never bothered me, and this isn’t any different.
It’s fucking necessary.
So I snuff out the fact that it damn well is different and refuse to let myself feel what I’m feeling about my brother, the man I’d fucking die for, or the way Riley looks so fucking shell-shocked right now.
I want to remember her the other way. Blissed out and stuffed full of cock, down by that stripper pole she loves so much.
I want a lot of fucking things, but if I’m going to pull this off—and I am—then right the fuck now is when I need to start keeping those things on lockdown so I can do everything I need to do.
“Wait, you guys are going to do this right now?” Riley asks, her eyes going wide when Logan leaves the room to get the pipe cutter.
She’s still too fucking pale, looking like she’s about to be sick, and her voice rises with the kind of panic I’m not used to seeing on her. At least, not since we finally got Chloe back.
“Yeah, it’s gotta be now, princess,” I tell her, wanting to take back the last word the moment it slips out.
I’m so damn in love with her I’d burn down the world for her, but from this moment on, I need to cut myself off from my heart and trust my brothers to take care of her so that I can take care of business.
I turn to Maddoc, a little part of me dying inside over not taking Riley in my arms when she so clearly needs it. Hell, I need it too. There will be time for that shit later, though. I’ll make sure of it by getting the intel we need to take this motherfucker down.
“Who are we going to bring in on this?” Maddoc asks, his eyes flicking back and forth like he’s mentally reviewing our entire organization to figure out who we can trust.
I’d like to say all of them, and to some extent that’s true, but there’s trust and then there’s what it’s gonna take to pull this off, and that definitely means keeping the truth limited to just a few key players.
I name my top picks, and when Maddoc nods, I add, “We gotta keep the lower-level members out of the loop completely. All of them. We can’t slip up or it will get back to McKenna.”
He narrows his eyes, but I can tell he’s thinking through all the ramifications of that, not doubting my call. Part of the reason he’s the kind of leader and man I burned all my bridges to follow is because he knows when to rely on the strengths of others, and one of mine has always been the planning and execution of what my old man used to call “strategic deceit.”
“Agreed,” he finally says with a decisive nod. “We’ll let the organization think I really died.”
“What? No!” Riley bursts out, glaring at us both before focusing her outraged panic on Maddoc. “If they think you died, they’re going to think Dante betrayed you!”
“That’s right,” Maddoc says calmly, holding her gaze. “We need to be careful about who knows the truth. That’s how this works. It’s the only way it works.”
She’s always been strong, and I’m so fucking proud of her for not breaking down.
I also don’t blame her one damn bit when she finally says, “I… hate that. God, that fucker. I hate this!”
“I know, baby,” Maddoc says, palming the back of her head and staring down at her. “But it’s necessary, and we’ll make McKenna pay for it. That’s what this is all about.”
She swallows hard, then nods. “Who will… um, who will step up if you can’t act as the leader anymore? Logan, right? What if there’s, like, a power struggle? Will the rest of the Reapers follow him?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure? What if they don’t?”
“They will.”
“But—”
“Butterfly.” Madd doesn’t get loud, but he gets his point across. This is happening, and it’s happening now. Life doesn’t wait for any of us to be ready before fucking us over. The bitch never has. “They’ll follow Logan. He’s my second. No one will challenge him. We’ll put the word out there that he’s taken over. No one’s gonna question that.”
“Okay.” She takes a shuddering breath before straightening her spine and repeating it. “Okay. I get it.”
She looks so fucking gorgeous that my resolve to keep my distance, necessary for getting into character, almost cracks. Logan returns before that happens, handing me the pipe cutter without a word.
And handing Maddoc a bottle of whiskey.
Maddoc’s face turns to stone, but he takes a healthy swig, then turns to Riley and kisses her hard, fortifying himself.
He’s got a lot of good ink on his body, all of it in stark black with none of the color that I’m so fucking addicted to. It suits him, though, and it’s also really fucking distinctive, especially the twisting, bold lines that cover the backs of his hands and curl down over his fingers.
One of those bold lines ends in a set of stylized numbers that wrap around his left pinky. The date of his father’s death. No one who matters in our world isn’t gonna recognize that particular tattoo.
He holds out his left hand to me, pinky extended, and I fit the pipe cutter over it, holding his gaze.
Then I cut it off.
Madd doesn’t make a fucking sound, but his lips press together tight, turning white as the pain flashes over his face. It’s only there for a split second before he masks it, and none of us comment on it.
I take the finger to the sink to ice and wrap it while Logan quickly cauterizes the wound, then bandages up Maddoc’s hand.
Madd is already on the phone while Logan takes care of that shit, getting in touch with the key people we agreed to bring in on it to help us deal with the assassin’s body, get word of Maddoc’s “death” out, and make sure this whole fucking thing works.
Once he finishes that up, Logan hands him the whiskey again.
Maddoc doesn’t say no.
He also doesn’t let it slow him down as we coordinate our plans, though. “You’ll need to keep us informed, Dante. If shit goes south, we’re gonna pull you out.”
“It won’t.”
He levels me with a hard stare. “It can’t. But if it does, we need to be able to move fast. We also need to be able to move as soon as you’ve got something we can bring to The Six.”
I nod. “We can use some of the drop protocol.”
It’s an old-school communication system we use for some of our less-than-legal business ventures.
“That will be a last resort,” Logan says, tucking away the last of his medical equipment and setting the case aside. He pulls out something else, holding it out to me. “This tech is small enough to be hidden on your person. It will let us keep in touch, and West Point won’t be able to detect it.”
Riley looks on while he gets it set up, then we do a quick test after he explains the instructions.
“It works,” Logan confirms, stepping back. “And the battery is good for a lot longer than you’ll need it, so you’re good to go.”
“How long?” Riley blurts, speaking up for the first time since before I took Madd’s finger off. “How long will this take?” she asks, her voice strained. “What if the battery does fail?”
“It won’t,” Logan says flatly.
No one answers her other question, because we can’t and our girl knows it.
After a moment, she gives a sharp nod and looks away.
Logan hesitates for a moment, then grasps my hand in both of his. “Be smart.”
I grin at him, my detachment cracking for a second. “Love you too, brother.” I tug him against my chest, thumping his back once and then letting him go fast, before I accidentally exceed his touch threshold. “And don’t worry. If Madd couldn’t see through me when I was here for the Crows, you know there’s no way in hell a waste of space like McKenna is going to figure this shit out.”
“Damn fucking straight,” Maddoc says, pulling me in for a slightly longer hug than Logan put up with. “Do what needs doing.”
“I always do. Take care of our girl.”
He smirks. “I always will.”
I turn to Riley.
“I can’t,” she whispers, reaching up to cup my face. “How the fuck am I supposed to just let you go?”
“The same way Madd let me take his finger,” I tell her, harsh but true. I can’t quite manage to keep my heart out of it with her touching me like this, though. “I’m sorry tonight’s ending like this.” I turn my face to kiss the palm she’s got pressed against my cheek. “I had a lot more plans for you tonight, and most of them involved you coming on my face, not me heading out to infiltrate the fucking weasels.”
Her chin lifts, showing that defiant spirit I fell so fucking hard for. “I don’t care about plans being changed, I care about you being careful. I love you, Dante. Don’t fucking… don’t let anything happen. Promise me you’ll be all right.”
“Fuck, princess,” I breathe out, resting my forehead on hers.
I want a taste of her more than I want just about anything, but I know I can’t. The way to sell my defection to McKenna is to turn off anything that stops me from believing it myself, at least on the surface.
I can at least give her this, though, even though I know it’s a promise I can’t guarantee to keep.
“I’ll be all right.”
She holds my gaze, searching for the truth. “And you’ll come back,” she finally says.
“And I’ll come back,” I promise, pressing my hand to the ink she put over her heart before stepping away.
Logan tosses me the keys to the Escalade we finally got back from the body shop. It’s Maddoc’s ride, as distinctive as the tattoo on the finger I’ve got in my pocket, and driving out in it is one more way we’ll signal to the world that Madd is gone.
I take one last look at the three of them, then head out, choosing the most direct route to West Point’s territory.
I use the drive time to get my game face on, letting the last of my emotions drain away so I can focus on what I need to do. All I care about is moving up in Halston’s underground. The Reapers were on the rise when the Crows sent me in, and befriending Madd was just a means to an end. I felt nothing when I took him out; nothing except the rush of finally having a chance to get ahead after being stuck as his second for all these years.
I sink into the story, making it my own as I navigate to a strip club where McKenna’s men are known to be seen on the regular.
I’ve got no doubt that the minute the Escalade crossed into West Point territory, about three miles back, I was on their radar, and it’s no surprise at all that the minute I walk into the strip club, all eyes are immediately on me.
“Reaper,” one of the bouncers grunts as he moves in front of me, blocking my way and spitting on the floor at my feet. “You got a death wish?”
“I’ve got something.” I smirk. “Not for you, though. Where’s McKenna?”
“Funny you should ask,” he says with an ugly smile as two other bouncers grab me from behind and rough me up a little, not even pretending it’s about me resisting—which I’m not—before they take me prisoner.
And then, just like I asked very fucking politely in the first place, they finally take me to see McKenna.
“What the fuck were you doing in West Point’s territory?” he asks when his goons finally throw me down in front of him about ten minutes later, after offering me a luxury ride in the trunk of one of their cars.
They’ve zip-tied my hands behind me and weren’t gentle getting me in and out of that trunk, and the way McKenna smirks down at me as I get back to my feet tells me he’s actually stupid enough to think the low-budget intimidation tactics can hide what an incompetent piece of shit he is.
Case in point, he doesn’t wait for me to actually answer and provide any useful intel before trying to swing his dick around a little more.
“I should kill you right here,” he threatens, getting up in my face. He slowly draws a finger across the front of my throat. “Send you fucking Reapers a message in your blood.”
He has a few familiar faces in the room with him. His own seconds, and a couple other high level weasels.
It’s like he’s showboating for them.
I snort. “A message in blood? Come on now, you’re gonna have to do better than that. Especially when you can’t seem to hire a decent assassin. Seriously, how the fuck do you expect to get anything done with losers like that on your payroll?”
McKenna’s smirk turns into a murderous scowl, and he sucker punches me in the gut. “Watch it, Reaper.”
I straighten back up. “It’s Dante, actually.”
“I know who you are.” A vein starts throbbing in his temple. Then he gives me a slow, sadistic smile. “I also know how much Maddoc Gray will enjoy getting you back in pieces.”
It takes everything I have not to grin.
Seriously, though, could the asshat have given me a better opening?
“Kinda hard for him to enjoy much of anything since I just took him out.”
Chatter erupts amongst McKenna’s people, cutting off abruptly when he shoots them a hard look. Then he turns back to me, his eyes narrowing as he studies my face. “Do you want to repeat that, Reaper?”
I glance down at myself, then look up with a smirk. “Your boys roughed me up pretty good, but not all this blood is mine, McKenna.”
His glances at the strip club bouncers who brought me here, still hovering by the door. “They look fine,” he says dismissively.
“’Course they are. I didn’t fight back. I asked to come see you.”
His eyes narrow again. “So whose blood is it?”
I do grin this time, selling myself as the man I created on the drive over. “I already told you.”
McKenna stares at me long and hard, then turns to bark at the bouncers. “Get the fuck out.”
The expressions they quickly mask as they jump to follow his orders tell me everything I need to know about how he runs his organization… and what’s gonna bring it down.
Not that it comes as a surprise.
There’s no fucking loyalty here. It’s why I already know he’ll fall for the story that I don’t have any, either.
“Explain,” he snaps once they’re gone.
“I’ve been thinking about it ever since I realized you got all that bitch’s money from her. You sent her back to us fucking penniless.”
McKenna smirks, and I don’t want to carve the expression off his face and see what color his blood will turn the teal of his shirt once it soaks into the silk. I can’t. Those kinds of feelings will give me the fuck away.
Instead, I shake off the last of the real me, the part that’s still imagining how fucking good he’d look with a bullet hole between his eyes, and step fully into the roll I created on the drive over. I’m a self-serving shithead who only cares about being on the winning team, quick to switch allegiances if that’s what it takes to make that happen, and I grin, cocky enough to gloat a little, as I tell him how it went down.
“It took some work for me and Logan, Madd’s other second, to take down that shitty-ass excuse for an assassin you sent over to the house, I’ll give you that. But I ain’t fucking stupid. I can see the writing on the wall. As soon as we offed your man, I went ahead and did what he came to do. A little present, from me to you.”
“You killed Maddoc Gray?” he asks, his voice dripping with disbelief. “Bullshit.”
“I brought proof, if you want to cut me loose.” He makes no move to do it, and I laugh. “Your people are fucking incompetent, McKenna. None of them even frisked me. You don’t want to cut my hands free? I can tell you where to find it instead, including all the weapons they left on me. But fair warning before you go shoving your hand down my pants. You’re not my fucking type.”
His face mottles with rage for a second, and I’m fully prepared to take a few more hits for daring to insult his ego, especially in front of his seconds. But for once, the bastard surprises me.
“Brett,” McKenna snaps, waving one of his people forward. “Give me a knife.”
The guy lumbers over and hands him one as McKenna looks me over, a calculating look replacing the rage… or, more likely, just painting over it for now, while he weighs his options to see what’s going to best serve his self-interest.
“Turn around,” McKenna orders, slicing through the zip ties once I do it. He grabs my shoulder and roughly spins me back to face him, holding the knife to my throat. “Now show me.”
I reach in my pocket and pull out Maddoc’s finger, handing it over.
“Take it, Brett,” McKenna says, pressing the knife against my Adam’s apple as a sadistic light flares to life behind his eyes. The steel bites into me, stinging enough that the warm trickle of blood I feel flowing down my neck doesn’t surprise me. “Tell me what the Reaper brought,” McKenna says to his man without breaking eye contact with me.
He wants to see fear, but he’s shit out of luck. I’m damn good at role play when I need to be, but I can’t fake that bullshit no matter how deeply I’ve buried my true feelings.
“Shit,” I hear his second say with a low whistle. “He’s not lying, boss. He killed Maddoc Gray.”
I smirk. “Is this the part where I say you’re welcome?”
McKenna’s eyes narrow, then he abruptly lowers the knife, turning to snatch the finger from his second. He turns it over, frowning down at it while he examines it from every angle. Finally, he traces the stylized numbers inked onto the skin with his nail, then looks up at me.
“This is Maddoc’s.”
“I took it on my way out. I would’ve brought you his head, but I kind of had to make a quick getaway.”
“Did you kill Logan Adair? The girl? My wifey?”
“No.” I don’t let myself react. I’m not that person right now. “I saw an opportunity and I took it, then I got the fuck out.”
“And you came here.”
That one isn’t a question, but I give him the explanation anyway.
“I wanted to move up, but that was never gonna happen with Maddoc running the show. Even with him out of the way, why would I waste time fighting off Logan to take over the Reapers when they’re already losing territory to you every fucking day? I cut ties with the Crimson Crows once I realized that the Reapers were expanding faster, and now I see the same thing happening all over again, and I want in.” I point at the finger he’s still holding. “Not sure how to show you any clearer than that.”
McKenna still looks skeptical, as he fucking should if he had any brains to go with his overinflated ego, but he doesn’t, and I keep quiet now that I’ve made my play, knowing damn well that his arrogance, greed, and sadistically vindictive nature will win out in the end.
He doesn’t disappoint.
“See?” he says, turning to his men with a sudden grin. “I told you we wouldn’t have trouble recruiting. Everyone wants to be on the side that’s more powerful. This Reaper is only the first. Pretty soon, West Point will start absorbing all the people who defect from the other gangs who try to stand against us.”
“Does that mean I’m in, boss?” I ask as his people murmur a bunch of bullshit in response to his little speech, all of them nothing but power-hungry yes men.
McKenna turns back to me with a self-satisfied smirk. “You’re in, but you’ll still have to prove yourself, Reaper.”
I glance at the finger he’s still holding. “I thought I did.”
“This?” He sneers at it, turning it over in his hand. “This was just your ticket in the door.”
He drops it on the floor, then stomps down on it hard, sending bits of flesh and bone splattering over the carpet as he greedily watches for my reaction.
I don’t give him the one he expects. I don’t let him see what the contempt and disrespect he’s showing my brother does to me. Instead, I just glance down at the mangled finger and lift one shoulder in a shrug. “Then how about I start proving myself right now, by cleaning that mess up for you?”
He grins, slow and ugly. “Not a bad start… Dante. Get it done. And welcome to West Point.”