35. Dante
“He giveyou any incentive to go easy on him, Tre?” one of the weasels I’m with, a young guy named Duke, asks with a snicker as the three of us head to McKenna’s house.
We just finished a bullshit job, a shakedown that’s gonna burn more bridges for West Point than it’s gonna build, but neither of the two idiots in the car with me seem to see that.
I’m not surprised. The way McKenna does business doesn’t really leave room for the type of followers who know how to think for themselves. He’d only see them as a threat.
Instead, he seems to collect dumb pieces of shit like these two, who truly don’t seem to give a shit that fucking with the supplier they just threatened is gonna backfire if they ever have to follow through on their blackmail threats. If they take him out, a whole supply chain breaks down here in the city, and I’m not talking about the kind that city officials are gonna care about.
The Six, though? This ain’t the type of intel I’m looking for, but when we do get a chance to bring McKenna’s plans to their attention, I’m for damn sure gonna use it too. Even if McKenna wasn’t gunning for them directly—which I’m now fully convinced Sienna was telling the truth about, even though I still haven’t been able to get my hands on anything incriminating enough to bring in front of The Six—if left unchecked, his shoddy business practices are gonna destabilize Halston’s underground.
And that’s a threat to all of us, including The Six.
“What about you, Dante?” Duke asks, nudging me with his elbow as he gives me a knowing grin. “You grab a little bonus for yourself while we were working him over?”
“Nah,” I say, giving him a lazy smile. “I’m still new here, remember? And that shit would have gotten me some repercussions with my last gang.”
Duke makes a rude sound. “Good thing you got out then before you went down with them.”
“No shit,” I say with an easy grin, burying my true feelings down so deep it’ll take a fucking excavator to extract them again. “But for real, Boss doesn’t mind if we skim a little here?”
“Boss doesn’t give a shit about what he doesn’t know, you know what I’m saying?”
I laugh along with him, but what I actually know is that they’ve got about as much loyalty to McKenna as he does to them, and about as many smarts too. Not only did McKenna send these two out to shakedown a supplier he actually needs some loyalty from if he wants to keep running a profitable business, but he obviously doesn’t take care of his own people well enough if they’re this excited about taking a little extra for themselves on the job.
Duke and Tre aren’t actually bad guys, just dumb as fuck and stuck with shitty leadership. Doesn’t mean I want to spend any more time with them than I have to, of course, but luckily for me, I’ve got a gift for blending in with people and getting them to trust me, so none of that shit shows on my face.
The two of them think we’re all tight, which works for my purposes. But if I hadn’t already hated these weasels before I was stuck masquerading as one of them for the past couple of weeks, I sure as shit do now.
None of them will ever truly get me the way my brothers and Riley do, but instead of letting my mind go there, I do a little fishing.
“Guess you gotta be here for a while to get one of those, yeah?” I ask, tapping the gaudy gold knuckle ring Duke’s wearing. I play up a hint of jealousy just to stroke his ego, but I wouldn’t be caught dead in one of those signature “W-P-G” monstrosities that West Point treats as a point of pride.
And sure enough, Duke holds up his hand, twisting it so the light glints off the three stylized letters. “Definitely gotta pay your dues for one of these,” he says with a grin. But then he frowns. “And fuck, you’d think the boss would put more faith in those of us who’ve earned them, right, Tre?”
“Not lately,” Tre grumbles, keeping his eyes on the road as we wind through the ugly neighborhood McKenna’s house is in.
It’s all the encouragement Duke needs to keep bitching, so I just nod and keep quiet and let him. All information is potentially a weapon, and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna miss out on anything that could help us here.
“Damn right,” Duke huffs. “He’s been treating us like expendable grunts lately. What even was this bullshit today? He could have had a couple of runners handle it. There weren’t even any… any…”
He flaps a hand around, scowling.
“Good shit,” Tre offers from the driver’s seat, flicking his eyes back in the mirror. “There weren’t no good shit. Boss should’ve just sent some runners to handle it today.”
Duke nods. “He’s been giving all the good jobs to the new people he brings in.” He nudges me with his elbow again. “Fucking noobs.”
“Hey now, I may be new, but I don’t know what all these ‘good jobs’ are you’re talking about. He sent me along with you today.”
I keep my smile bland as all fuck to mask how sharply I’m listening now. I’m sure by “new people,” Duke actually means the hired mercs, and any specifics I can get about what kinds of jobs McKenna’s been giving them is gonna help.
“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” Duke says as we finally pull into McKenna’s driveway. Then he smirks at me and adds, “Then again, he didn’t bring you in, you came begging, the way I hear it. Maybe that’s the difference.”
“I don’t remember begging. I just offered my services,” I say, giving him a lazy smile and refusing to rise to the bait. “I mean, come on now, a man’s gotta look out for himself. Isn’t that what we were just talking about?”
“Damn straight,” Tre says as we all pile out of the car. “Which is why next time, you gotta make sure you get a little something for yourself when Boss sends us out on one of these supply maintenance runs.”
He gives me a fist bump in solidarity, and I see my window of opportunity closing, so I push a little.
“Is this really as good as it gets, or were you guys shitting me about some of the other new guys getting better jobs lately?”
“Fuck no, we’re not shitting you,” Duke says, scowl back in place but voice hushed as we’re ushered into McKenna’s house. And, unfortunately, straight to him to report on the job, so I’m out of time to pump Duke and Tre for anything else.
“Did Wilson give you any problems?” McKenna asks Duke, some big-chested bitch hanging off his arm who I’ve got no doubt is a replacement for Sienna that he purchased with some of Riley’s money.
“Of course not,” Duke answers him, stifling all that attitude he was displaying in the car and playing the part of the fawning minion to a T.
He gives McKenna a quick rundown of the job we just finished, then we waste another ten minutes while McKenna asks some pointed questions about a few of the details, looking to me and Tre to verify them, as if he’s half expecting to catch his own man in a lie.
Once he’s finally satisfied—and has made it crystal clear with his shit attitude that he doesn’t trust his own people, so is it any fucking wonder that they’re not loyal to him, either?—he thanks us and dismisses us.
McKenna’s new bitch hasn’t said a word this whole time, and we haven’t been given any further orders for the rest of the day either, so I’m about to suggest that Duke and Tre and I all go shoot the shit at a bar the weasels like to hang out at so I can steer the conversation back to what McKenna has the mercs doing, when another group of McKenna’s people burst into the house.
“The fuck?” McKenna snaps as his front door slams open, a weapon in his hand before the echo fades away. His girl makes a fuss, but he ignores her, shoving her aside and tucking the gun out of sight once he recognizes the people. “Why the fuck are you bleeding all over my fucking floor, Benny? It’s goddamn Brazilian Cherry, and I just had it refinished! Do you know how much that shit costs? What the fuck happened here?”
He stomps over to them, ranting the whole way.
Jesus, it’s a shit show. Madd would never handle an incident like this. Of course, we’d never be caught off guard by Reapers bursting in on us when one of them pretty fucking obviously needs medical attention, either. We would have heard about that from the source, and nine times out of ten, Maddoc would be in the Escalade heading to them.
“This is a fucking bullet wound,” McKenna shouts, jabbing his finger into the gore. The one he called Benny goes bleach-white, and almost drops. One of the other weasels keeps him upright, and McKenna spins around to shout at another. “Does this mean you fucked up the job I sent you to do? Who the fuck was shooting at you? Did you deliver my message, or not?”
McKenna’s people can barely get a word in edgewise, but they sure as fuck try, chaos and shouting filling the room. Duke and Tre get right in the middle of the commotion, although whether that’s because they give a shit that this Benny dude looks like he’s trying to bleed out all over the floors McKenna is so fucking attached to, or just because they’re bored pieces of shit who won’t say no to a little excitement is anyone’s guess.
I don’t bother to guess. I know an opportunity when I see one, and I use their distraction to slip away, heading deeper into the house.
I’ve already managed to get an idea of the layout and eliminate a few areas during previous visits, including McKenna’s office, so I move quickly and stealthily to the one area I’m sure I’ll find some gold.
His real command center seems to be a pimped-out space off his bedroom that looks more like that strip club I first found Riley in than a place to actually get work done, but has a bunch of electronics and some locking safes that say otherwise.
I’ve got no doubt that Logan would wreak some serious damage here if he got a chance to hack into all the shit stashed in this room, but I’m banking on the fact that McKenna was raised more old school, like me, and will keep certain information in its original form.
I snap on a pair of gloves I’ve got on me for exactly this purpose, then make quick work of the locks he’s got in place and rifle through his shit. It’s more organized than I’d have given him credit for, a fact I appreciate when I finally hit pay dirt.
“Well, fuck me,” I whisper with a shit-eating grin on my face, keeping my voice down, but—for the first time since leaving Reaper territory—feeling my spirits lift. “Thank you, asshole.”
McKenna has basically dug his own grave by laying out his plans in perfect fucking detail for us, and there’s nothing better than destroying an enemy with his own hand… unless it’s utterly fucking annihilating that enemy for hurting the ones I love.
I skim through quickly, pretty sure it’s goddamn Christmas morning and Santa forgot my coal. The records I’m looking at couldn’t be any clearer that he’s already making machinations against The Six. Getting these into their hands will fucking end him, especially when they see the lengths he’s gone to in order to stay under their radar.
I know for a fucking fact that McKenna’s vendetta against Maddoc is real, but based on what I’m seeing, the fucker is a little smarter than any of us have truly given him credit for, and there’s more to the war he’s waging on us than just taking the Reapers out. He’s been trying to kill two birds with one stone when it comes to attacking our borders, and while one of those birds is definitely laying waste to everything Maddoc’s put his blood and sweat into building, the other… well, from the look of things, part of the reason McKenna’s gone at us so hard is to make sure shit gets messy enough to keep all eyes on the conflict and deflect attention from what else he’s doing with Riley’s money.
He’s been laying groundwork not just to take out The Six as his endgame, but to position himself to do it with a lightning strike—quick and deadly—the moment they finally fucking realize what he’s up to.
He knows he can’t keep them distracted forever, so he’s been hauling ass behind the scenes trying to fortify his strike force and position his organization, so that by the time they do realize the threat, it will already be too late for them to stop him.
“I don’t think so, motherfucker,” I mutter as I quickly snap pics of all the relevant documents, then replace the originals where they were.
Living with Logan and his particular need for order all these years serves me well, and once I have everything back in its place, I guaran-fucking-tee that no one will be able to tell I was even in here.
Which means that once I get this information into The Six’s hands, McKenna is gonna be fucking blindsided when they take him out.
I grin, then send the file to the secure server Logan set up for this exact fucking purpose and slip out of the room quietly. Raised voices confirm that the bullshit up at the front of the house is continuing, so I head in the opposite direction to get in touch with Maddoc real quick. As volatile as the situation has become, he needs to know about it now, not when I can have the pleasure of telling him in person.
“Report,” Madd says, answering on the first ring.
“I got what we need,” I murmur, backing into a little alcove that has some kind of decorative statuary shit in it. I turn my back to the artwork—it’s ugly as shit—and keep one eye on the hallway that leads toward the front of the house everyone’s congregated in while I fill Maddoc in. “It’s just what we thought. He’s planning to go against The Six. I just sent the file.”
I get silence back for a split second. No doubt Madd is having his own Christmas morning moment as he imagines the utter fucking glory of bringing this bastard down and protecting our people. But he moves past it fast, because none of us have the time for that. Not yet.
“That’s great,” he growls. “Never doubted you would. Now get the fuck out of there.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, that’s the plan. I’m on my way as soon as we ha—”
I shut my mouth with a snap when I hear a door open behind me.
I whirl around, dropping my phone to reach for the gun I keep in the back of my waistband.
There’s a motherfucking door, cut into the wall right next to the statue at the back of the alcove, in such a way that it was totally fucking disguised. I had no clue it was there and sure as shit don’t know where it leads, but I do know I’m completely fucked, because Austin motherfucking McKenna steps out of it before I can get my weapon out, a gun already in his hand, pointed right at my head.
“Not smart,” he says, a savage glint in his eyes that tells me I should have been a bit more suspicious about how fucking easy it was to move “undetected” through his house. “Were you just about to pull a weapon on me, after pledging your allegiance?”
The sadistic bastard is fucking grinning, practically salivating over the hole he thinks I’ve dug for myself here and the psychological warfare he thinks he’s about to wage. He’s too fucking easy to read. He wants me to claim I was all turned around, lost and confused, that going for my weapon was pure instinct. He wants that shit just for the rush of watching me realize he’s onto me, the sick fuck.
Fuck that.
I make a break for it, shoving that ugly-ass statue into him as I turn to sprint down the hallway. The string of curses he lets rip as he trips over the broken pieces are music to my fucking ears, but I’m already reaching for my weapon again as I run, because I know that shit won’t delay him for long.
I don’t get far before I’m jumped by a whole contingent of these fucking weasels, including Duke and Tre. McKenna probably made them leave that Benny dude to bleed out for real, and I feel zero remorse about that as I take first Tre out, then some bearded asshole who goes for a chokehold before someone knocks the gun out of my hand.
“Take him the fuck down!” McKenna screams from behind me as I break someone’s knee cap with a satisfying crunch when he makes the mistake of trying to sweep my leg.
I get in one more good hit, my vision obscured by blood although with all the adrenaline in my system, I’ve got no fucking clue if it’s mine or not, but there are too fucking many of them. They overpower me by sheer numbers, doing what their boss man said and taking me down fast.
I fight hard and I fight dirty, right up until they get me fully restrained, but the minute it’s clear that I’m well and truly caught, I quit resisting. If I can keep breathing long enough to find a way to get out of here and rejoin Maddoc and the others, I need to take it—no matter what it costs me.
“Get him up.” McKenna’s voice throbs with rage as he prowls closer, but the way he keeps his distance while his men do it tells me what a fucking pussy he actually is.
“Scared I’ll bite?” I ask, spitting out the blood in my mouth near his feet.
McKenna’s face mottles with rage, and Duke gets in a vicious little kidney jab when he twists my arms up behind my back. “Show some fucking respect,” he hisses in my ear.
I laugh, because there’s nothing here I respect… and I can’t help but keep grinning when I notice the big-ass bruise already forming on McKenna’s forehead and the scuff marks on his knees.
It’s not much. Nothing like what I’m sure he’s about to do to me. But he tripped hard over that statue and no doubt looked like a flailing fool in front of his men when he got himself back up, and I’ll take it.
My grin seems to flip a switch in McKenna. He replaces all his rage with a slow, sick smile that tells me I actually have something to worry about here.
“That’s right, Reaper,” McKenna says as my grin falls away, pulling a knife. “You’ve got nothing to smile about. But if you’d like me to give you something…”
He steps closer and digs the tip into my skin, right at the base of my throat. The sting is sudden and severe, and warm blood trickles down my chest as he slowly twists it, watching for my reaction like a hungry shark.
I let the breath out of my nose in a slow, deliberate release, slowing down my nervous system and reaching for that place in my head my father trained me to go early, the one that lets me stay focused and alert when I need to, no matter what’s happening around—or to—me.
McKenna’s eyes flash with a bit of that rage when I don’t flinch or start begging him for my life or whatever reaction it is the sick bastard is looking for, and he drags the knife from my throat, down my chest, to my bicep, leaving a trail of blood and stopping when he finally gets to exposed skin.
“I like art too,” he says, using the tip of his knife to trace a few of my tattoos. When he gets to a gorgeous tribal design I had done a few years ago, he digs the blade in, carving the lines deep. “How about we recreate every one of these tattoos in blood?”
“It’s my favorite color,” I murmur, letting my mind drift a little further inside itself, going back to the night I spent with Riley, telling her the story of my art.
I smile at the memory, and McKenna snaps, raging again. “I never should have trusted you!” Then he laughs, a little manic-sounding. “Oh wait, I didn’t. But you thought I did. You came into my territory, into my house, thinking you could fool me? For that, you’re gonna pay.”
His eyes go hard again, and he jabs the tip of his knife into the left eye of the colorful Calavera skull inked in the center of my forearm, hard enough to make me grunt when I feel the tip hit bone.
“Oh, that’s just the start,” McKenna gloats. “I’m going to make you hurt.”
I don’t respond. He’s not lying, but I won’t give him the satisfaction he wants any sooner than I have to. Training or not, I’ve seen too much death, too much torture, to doubt that he’ll be able to get more of a reaction out of me eventually. Hell, he can probably make me scream myself hoarse if he goes at it long enough.
But he’ll never make me beg.
And he’ll never make me betray my family.