Chapter Twenty-Three
I speed through Manhattan towards the docks, preparing myself for battle. The car screeches to a stop and I fling the door open, running to the warehouse near the dock.
When I round the building, I see two of my men dead on the ground. Stepping over their bodies, I remove my gun from my waistband and aim it as I round the corner, prepared should an attacker be lying in wait. I keep my footsteps light to not draw any attention to me, but the gravel crunches under every step I take.
I get to a window and press my body against the wall before I slowly peer in. I don’t see anyone, but I’m startled by the sound of the back door opening. I turn with my gun raised to see Lincoln with his gun drawn and Conner, with his gun aimed at my chest. When they see it’s me, they quickly lower their guns.
“Where are they?” I whisper so I can’t be overheard by the attackers.
“They took shelter in the warehouse on the other side,” Lincoln says as he looks through the window into the building.
“How many dead?”
“Three dead, five injured, and the other two are held up inside,” Conner says as he opens the door wider for me to pass. He quickly glances around before following Lincoln inside. When I get to the front of the warehouse, I see the men spread out on the floor, all holding different body parts.
“How many did you guys get?” I ask, turning to Lincoln .
“I have no idea. They came in with twenty men to our ten. I called for backup, but…”
“But what?” I growl, and he runs his hands through his hair.
“Everyone went to the other docks. They hit us simultaneously to get us away from this one. We regained control over docks one, three, and six but I haven’t heard back from the others.”
“Best bet, we charge,” Conner says as he looks at the men. “Those who can walk should fight.”
I look to the men who are looking at me for orders. “Who’s a good shot?” Three men raise their hands. “Lincoln, cover me. I’m going to get the sniper out of the trunk.” I walk to the side door on the other side of the warehouse and push it open. As soon as I do, the gunfire begins.
Lincoln and two other men run to the windows, ducking under them to take cover. They shoot the two men that are shooting at me and when their bodies drop, I sprint for the car. I unlock the car and slide behind it, nearly taking bullets. I look back at the warehouse and watch as Lincoln runs towards me, firing at the building and taking down another man. When he crouches next to me, I make my way towards the trunk, keeping my head low.
I pop open the trunk with the key fob and count to three on my fingers, indicating to Lincoln when I’m going to go. We both stand on three, and I quickly grab the rifle bag and throw it over my shoulder. I duck back behind the car, then sprint towards the building, trailing behind Lincoln.
I feel a shooting pain in the side of my thigh that travels up my leg, but the adrenaline takes over and the pain dissipates. We enter the warehouse, and I point to one of the men who was covering me, gesturing for him to follow me .
I head up the stairs to the third floor, pull down the ladder that leads to the roof, and start to climb. I push open the hatch and climb up, helping the man as he ascends. I open the bag and set up the sniper, then hand him one of the three walkie-talkies that are in the bag.
“Count the men, then report.” He nods, and I head back down, and everyone’s heads shoot up when I enter the room. I ignore them as I walk over to the window. I notice movement coming from the side of the building closest to the water.
“Right side,” I say and gesture to one of the men who quickly stands and limps over to the window. He fires and takes the man down. I look back at the injured, and there is another man who was hit in the gut. “Do you think you could climb?” I ask, and he nods. “Go join the other boy on the roof. Be there in case something happens to him.” I run my hands through my hair, and I hear the man’s voice speak in the walkie-talkie. “I count 15 left.” He says, “There is…” There is a pause. “Looks like 5 on the second floor. That’s where they are shooting from. The rest are on the first. Gathered by each entrance.”
“How many can you take out?” I respond.
There is a long pause before his voice fills the room. “I could probably get all five on the second floor. But until they split from the doors, I can’t get anyone else.”
I groan and shift on my leg, looking down and seeing my black pants getting a bit darker. “Go ahead and take out what you can.” I hand Lincoln a walkie, and I throw the other to one of the men sitting on the floor who is holding his side.
There is silence for a moment before I hear the first round of fire. Each shot comes with a long pause before the next ring out. After the fifth shot, he starts talking again. “They’re down.” There is another long pause before panic enters his voice. “The right door is clear. They are headed your way.”
I hear another shot fire, and everyone standing ducks. We walk over to the right side of the building, and I peer out one of the windows. I see a group of five men starting towards our building. I point to the men who are still alive and gesture to them to each get to a window. They follow the orders and I wait until each man nods to me. I nod back and start firing from my window. I take down two, and I watch as the other three scramble to get to safety, but my men are faster. The man on the roof starts to talk again. “I took out one more. I count four more inside.”
I turn back to the men. “Those who can fight, stand.” Only two men stand. With me, Conner, and Lincoln, that makes five against four. Better odds. I run my hand through my hair again and speak into the walkies. “What door is clear?” I ask.
“Right.” He answers, “One man is on the left, and the other is on the front.”
“Cover me,” I say back to him and nod to Lincoln, who turns back to the men to give them directions. I open the door and start to run across the gravel to the other pathway. When I get to the building, I look inside and see there are more than four. I whisper into the walkie, “I count six walking and three on the ground injured.”
“One is headed to the door you’re at. Do you want me to fire?” The man on the roof asks.
“Not yet.”
I wait a moment, and when the door opens, I grab the door handle so the door stays open, hiding me. When he steps into my view, I hit the man over the back of the head with the butt end of my gun, and he falls to the ground .
“Now,” I whisper into the walkie-talkie, and I see my men run to my side of the building and then slip inside with me.
We hide behind a few boxes, and Lincoln gestures for two of the men to follow him up the steps in front of us. I cover them as they sneak up the stairs. When they are above the men, Lincoln nods, and I shoot the first shot, taking down the biggest guy. The others scramble to find where the shot came from, but Lincoln takes out two of the injured who stood to fight. I stand and fire, missing the man as he ducks. I take another step forward, but suddenly the wind gets knocked out of me.
I fall to the floor and feel a blow to my face. I punch back, feeling my fist connect with crunching bone. He pulls out a knife, but before he can do anything, a loud bang echoes through the warehouse and his body falls limp.
I push him off of me, grabbing the knife out of his dead hands, and throw it at a man’s back who is running for the stairs. He falls, and the last guy looks at me in horror. He puts up his hands, dropping his gun. I look at Lincoln, who is walking down the stairs, and passes the body I took down.
“Get him secure.” I groan and wipe my nose with the back of my hand, seeing blood as I do. Lincoln nods and grabs the man, taking him to the back room. “You,” I say, pointing to one of the men on Lincoln’s team. “Go grab the man I knocked out and tie him up with the other one.” The boy nods and limps over to the door. He starts dragging the hefty man back into the building. I pull out my phone and call Lincoln’s second-hand Ace who was looking over dock 5 in mid-Manhattan.
“You guys good?” I ask
“We gained control over all the docks but seven.”
“We’ve secured dock seven. Lincoln and I are going to take care of something while we’re here. Call Hawkins and tell him to give you some men to help clean up and make sure we double up on men at each dock.”
“Yes, sir.”
I hang up the phone and walk into the room where Lincoln put the boy. I watch as one of the men on Lincoln’s crew finishes tying up the other one.
“Please. Please. I didn’t want to do this. I knew it was a bad idea, but they wouldn’t listen to me.” He frantically looks around the room before he locks eyes with the man sitting next to him. His face has grown pale, and beads of sweat have started to pour from his forehead.
“What family do you work for?” I already know the answer, but I need to see how corroborative he is.
“Manzo’s, but it’s only my second day. I’ll tell you what you want to know, but please don’t kill me.”
“What’s your name?” “Eli.”
“How old are you?” I sit on the chair and grab a rag, pressing it into my wound.
“18.” He whimpers and looks down at the floor. “Why are you working for Manzo?”
“He recruited me. Said he needed more men.” “Did he say why?”
“No.”
I nod, throw the rag back on the table, and put my elbows on my knees, tapping the gun with my pointer finger.
“I’ll make you a deal.” I stand, “I’ll let you go, but you’ll start working for me.” His eyes wide n
“I don’t want to be in the Mob.”
“You’re in it now, kid. Either you join us,” I gesture to the men standing behind me, “Or you die.”
“What would I do for you?” He whispers and looks down at the floor.
Either this boy is the best damn actor ever, or he is fresh meat. “Whatever I tell you to.”
He sighs. “Okay. But if Manzo finds out…”
I shake my head. “I don’t care if he does. When you start working for me, you become part of the family, and we protect our own. If you prove yourself to be loyal and trustworthy, you can live a happy life. But if I even hear so much as a whisper that you’re giving him information, you will be dead so fast you won’t have the chance to even plead for your life.”
He nods, and I turn to look back at the men who are giving me confused looks. I know it’s dangerous to be taking this kid in, but I don’t know the death toll yet. I know I lost a lot of men tonight, and if he has anything that could help, it would get us one step closer to taking down Manzo. There’s an old saying, “You catch more bees with honey than you do with vinegar.” We will see if that’s true.
“Lincoln. You will be working with him. He will be part of your crew. Give him a room at the Inn.” I turn back to the boy, and horror is still plastered on his face. I shake my head and walk out to my car. I see the two men I had on the roof waiting for me. I extend my hand to the one I set up on the roof and shake his hand. “Good work.” I take the bag from him and put it in my trunk. “You showed real potential. What’s your name?”
“Harris.”
I nod. “Who's your lead?” “Conner. ”
I look over to Conner, who is holding his shoulder as he talks with Lincoln. “I want you to move in with Julian’s men and start training with him. He will be your new lead.”
He smiles as I pull out my phone and call Dr. Harrington. “Meet us at the Northern Docks. I would bring a few extra hands.”
After I hang up with him, I dial Ace and let him know to bring all the injured to be treated here. This will end up in the news in the morning, as the war has officially begun. However, bringing all of the men to the hospital will bring up more questions than I care to answer and will end in my lower-level men getting arrested. When guns are involved, people tend to care more. It’s the last thing I want to deal with right now.
◆◆◆
I enter the house with Lincoln's help, I was shot in the right thigh, luckily that is the only injury I received. I had time to remove the bullet at the docks and stitch it, but walking is difficult. I am still waiting for the death toll from all seven docks. I lost good men today because of that fucking mole, because Bianca chose to keep her mouth shut. Once I find this son of a bitch, I’ll make sure to make him suffer.
When we enter the living room, I pour myself a drink before sitting on the couch and propping my leg up on the coffee table. I only get a few seconds before Vivian is bursting through the doors .
“What the hell, Ryker?!” She practically screams.
When I look up at her, her brows are pulled together, her face is red, and I can tell from her unkempt hair she has been putting her hair up into a bun and taking it back down. She only does that when something is bothering her. I knew this would happen if she went down to talk to Bianca. I knew Bianca would say something to upset her, but I don’t have the willpower or energy to deal with it tonight.
“I just got done fighting off twenty guys. I was shot, and now I have to deal with damage control with the media. Whatever it is that you are upset about, it will have to wait until tomorrow.” I say as I stand from the sofa and start to limp back into my office.
My day has just begun. I know that in a few hours when the world starts to wake up, the news will begin running the story about some of my men who were critically injured at the docks. That will have everyone speculating even more than they already have been. A war has begun, and the civilians will start to panic. Keeping everyone calm is low on my list of priorities. Finding the mole, planning a counterattack, and making sure this doesn’t bring the FBI or the DEA snooping again take first prize in that department. Yet most of my thoughts keep traveling back to Bianca. I can’t seem to get her out of my mind.
“Don’t fucking walk away from me.” Vivian hisses as she runs to catch up to me.
I open the door to my office and position myself so that I block her from entering. “Did you really sit back and watch as he raped her?” Her eyes are full of anger and sorrow. She has it in her mind that I wouldn’t ever hurt a woman. But I have. I don’t enjoy it. It’s actually one of the many things I hate about this job. I do what I have to in order to keep this world going .
I keep my face neutral as I talk. “Like I said, we will discuss this tomorrow. Have Lincoln drive you home. It’s late, I’ve had a really fucking long day, and I have a shit ton more things to do. I warned you not to go down there, but you didn’t listen to me.”
She stares me down for a moment. I can see the sadness that replaces most of the anger in her eyes. She scoffs, then stomps to the front door, slamming it behind her. I let out a sigh, shutting my office door and get settled in my chair. I lean back, putting my forearm over my face, trying to get my head to stop throbbing.
I sit there for a few minutes before I finally turn on my computer and click on the video feed to the basement. I watch as Bianca sleeps in the metal chair. She seems almost at peace. I have had countless men down there over the years, and nobody has ever lasted as long as she has. Granted, we haven’t done any physical torture to her since the first night we got her, but she hasn’t eaten in a week and refuses water, making Marcus have to shove it down her throat.
I watch as she shifts uncomfortably and lifts her head, her eyes fluttering open. She stares into the camera, almost like she’s looking right at me. She lets out a heavy breath before leaning her head onto her right shoulder and wincing before she dozes off again.
I click the file that holds all of the recordings from this past week and click on the one with yesterday’s date. I fast forward to the end of the night, around the time I left to go to the docks. It takes Vivian a couple of hours to go into the basement to speak with her. When she finally enters, Bianca’s face is filled with amusement. I could tell as soon as she set her eyes on her that nothing good could have come from their interaction.
As I’m listening to their conversation, I can hear the approaching footsteps coming down the hall and automatically know, based on how heavy they are, that it’s Lincoln. Without knocking, he enters the room, shuts the door, and settles into one of the chairs located in front of my desk. He doesn’t say anything as he listens.
When the conversation between the two women ends, we sit in silence for a long moment before he speaks. “We shouldn’t keep her down there. I’ve been thinking about what she said at the warehouse. She shouldn’t be a prisoner; she could be an ally.”
I clench my jaw as I stare at the current feed of Bianca, still passed out in the chair. “How long do you think it would take to break her?”
Lincoln stiffens. “I think she’s already broken. That’s the problem. There was nothing in her eyes when Hawkins or Marcus were torturing her. She was empty. I’m not sure there is anything left for us to do. She will take those secrets to her grave. I don’t think physical torture is the answer, and clearly, she doesn’t mind the psychological torture either.”
I let out a heavy breath as I run my hand down my face. “What do you propose I do then?”
“Bring her to one of the guest rooms. Let her stay in there. Show her kindness, then maybe she will be willing to cooperate better.”
I open my mouth to respond when my phone starts buzzing on the table with a notification from Dr. Harrington, who is still stationed at dock seven. I let out a heavy sigh as I answer. “Ryker.”
“We have a total of nineteen deaths from the attack. Plenty more are injured and have been sent home for recovery. I’ll send you the list of names.”
I hang up the phone and turn my attention back to Lincoln as I stand. “Take her up to the room and get her settled. Right now, I need to focus on notifying the families. I’m going to grab Jeremy for back up.”
We both stand and head out of the office and down the hallway. I pause at the bottom of the stairs to look over my shoulder. I watch as Lincoln takes a deep breath before opening the door and heading down to the basement.
I head upstairs to take a long, hot shower. I wince as the water runs over my wound, a good reminder I need to keep it dry. I let the hot water run off my back as I place my hand against the wall and bow my head. The heat is a good contrast to the cool air. Once I’ve had a moment to breathe, I finish washing my hair, dry off, and put on one of the many suits I own.
As I’m walking down the stairs to pick up Jeremy from the Inn, I spot Bianca limping towards me. I pause at the bottom, just as she’s about to pass. The bags under her eyes are dark, her skin is pale, and she looks sick. She needs to eat.
The instant worry for her health sends irritation coursing through me. How could she neglect her perfect body like that? Why wouldn’t she just eat?
I watch as she ascends the stairs, her arm dropped over Lincoln’s broad shoulders, and I clench my hands at my sides when my gaze slides down her bloodied back to his hand wrapped around her waist. When she makes it to the top, she pauses and looks over her shoulder. We make eye contact for a brief moment before Lincoln urges her to continue. I lift my chin, but she just turns and walks away, heading into the room next to mine.
Jeremy and I approach the final house. I spent the majority of the day talking to family members of those who died from Manzo’s attack. I know the money I give them will never be enough to make up for their losses, but it’s the only thing we can do. Rarely does someone choose this life. Those who do are given few options outside of it.
Marcus, for example, lost everything and was sentenced to life behind bars for killing the man who murdered his daughter. When he got out on good behavior, nobody would hire him. Then you have men like Jeremy. Those whose lives took a wrong turn and met the wrong person to end up where he is. I was born into this life. I was molded since I was born to be prepared for the day that I’d die.
The day when my enemy would put a bullet in my brain. My father always told me that it was a family curse. We never get to see retirement. He’s the only one who has in six generations. Some died on the battlefield, others were poisoned, and the rest went missing. They were likely kidnapped and tortured before they, too, were executed. In this life, we never go out the easy way. But breaking the news that someone’s son or husband has died… yeah, that never gets easier.
I knock on the door, and it takes a few moments before it opens. I’m shocked to see a little girl, about five or six, with bright red hair and big green eyes staring back at me. She smiles, and I return it. I bend down so I’m on her level. When I was a child, I always hated it when people would talk down to me like I was nothing. “Is there a grown-up I can talk to?” The girl shakes her head before shifting her gaze to Jeremy and then back to me. “Is anyone watching you?”
She shakes her head again. “Are you here for my daddy?” She asks as she shifts on her feet.
“What’s your father’s name?” I ask.
She shrugs. “He’s not here right now. He went to work yesterday and never came home.”
I stiffen. This must be the man’s daughter. “Do you know where your mommy is? I work with your father, and I need to talk to her.”
“Work…” She trails off. “I’m not supposed to let strangers in.”
I smile and nod, “Understood. Do you know where your mommy works?” She shakes her head, and I nod again. “Alright. We will wait out here until she gets home. Do you know when that would be?”
“When the sun goes down, and that light comes on. I’m usually in bed.” She points to a street light in front of her neighbor’s house.
“Alright, why don’t you go back inside. It’s getting cold out here.” She nods and slowly shuts the door.
I sit on the steps in front of her house and pull out a cigarette. I rarely smoke anymore. I did it in my early teens because I thought it was cool. All the bosses were doing it, and I wanted to seem mature. Now, I do it when my stress levels are at their highest. I light it and take a couple of pulls before Jeremy takes the seat next to me .
He doesn’t talk until the cigarette is nothing but a bud. I toss it and look over to him as he starts to speak. “How is she?” His voice is almost a whisper, and he refuses to meet my gaze.
“Fine,” I say as I wipe my hands on my pants. “Lincoln was putting her into a bedroom when I left.”
The sound of the door opening behind us instantly makes me stiffen. I quickly turn my head to see the redheaded girl carrying two plates. One has two sandwiches on it, and the other has one. I watch intently as she hands Jeremy the plate with the single sandwich on it, then takes one of the sandwiches off the plate and hands it to me. I take it, and she settles between me and Jeremy, setting the plate on her lap as she takes a bite.
“It’s ham and cheese. I wasn’t sure if you were allergic to peanuts. There is a kid in my class who is.” She says as she takes a bite. I look over to Jeremy, who eyes the girl before looking up at me. I shrug and take a bite.
“Thank you,” I say as I swallow.
The little girl smiles at me as we continue to eat silently. She sets the plate down behind her when the sandwiches are all gone before turning to me. “Is my daddy in trouble?” I shake my head, and the girl starts playing with the hem of her nightgown.
Now the sun has completely set, and the little girl yawns, rubbing her eyes. “You should probably go inside and head to bed.”
“No. I want to wait here to see Mommy.”
I nod and look up at Jeremy, who looks concerned. I let out a heavy breath, and the little girl rests her head on my shoulder as her eyes drift closed. I check the time on my watch to see it’s nearly one in the morning .
“Why don’t you head back to the Inn? I’ll take care of things here.” Jeremy nods slowly and stands before heading to his car.
The clock has hit two-thirty when I see headlights pulling into the driveway. A woman with the same bright red hair as the young girl swings the door open and sprints for us. She looks between me and the girl with pure panic. I hold up my hand and whisper. “I didn’t hurt her. I was going to take her inside but wasn’t sure if you wanted me to or not.”
The woman nods and swallows. “Why are you here? Is Kindly in trouble?”
“I came here to inform you that your husband unfortunately passed away yesterday. We were attacked, and your husband died honorably. I know this can’t fix the loss of losing a loved one, but I hope it’s enough to keep you on your feet.” I hand her the envelope with her husband’s name on it, and she covers her mouth with a shaking hand as she takes the envelope. She falls to her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks. The little girl stirs on my shoulder, and her eyes flutter open.
“Mommy?” She wipes her eyes as she looks between me and the woman. The woman quickly pulls herself together and stands, embracing the little girl. I rise to my feet.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” I walk away, knowing there is nothing else I can do in this situation.
I get into my car and slam the door as I start up the engine. Today, Manzo took countless fathers, brothers, and loved ones from their families. I will win this war and make him pay for all that he’s done.