Chapter 11
Eleven
ROME
“I’m riding with you,” Carson says as he walks into my office. I’ve just slipped two guns in their holsters under my jacket, and I’m putting throwing knives on my belt.
“Why?”
“Because I was in the neighborhood anyway, and I wanted a drink, so I stopped by the bar.”
“You mean, you were at your casino next door and decided to come over here to bum free liquor off me when you have plenty of your own bars to drink at?”
Carson owns King of Spades, and our buildings are connected via a sky bridge, which is convenient for our businesses.
“I paid for my whiskey, thank you very much. Cheap asshole.”
I grab my long-range rifle just in case I need it and turn to Carson. “Where are your weapons?”
He holds his hands up and smirks. “Got everything I need right here.”
“Okay, badass, let’s go.”
Luke’s waiting outside the office for me along with Spider, Carson’s second-in-command, and they walk right behind us as we make our way through the back doors to the alleyway, where my SUV is waiting.
“So you have a sexy new bartender,” Carson says as he climbs into the back seat with me. “She’s … feisty.”
“I’ll kill you,” I say, and he bursts out laughing, but when I don’t smile back, he sobers.
“You interested in her?”
I turn to look at him and don’t reply.
“But you don’t hook up with employees,” he goes on, and I notice Luke flicks me a look in the rearview mirror. “What’s so special about this one?”
“A man can’t change his mind?”
“You never change your mind.” Carson shakes his head. “You’ve got the hardest head out of all of us. So the pussy must be thermonuclear—”
“Want a bullet to the brain?” I look at him again.
Carson sobers and then nods. “It’s like that.”
“It’s like that. Now what the fuck is happening in LA that requires our attention tonight?”
“I’m assuming Julian will let us in on that when we get on the plane.”
We never ask questions. If one of the four of us needs help, we simply go. Between us, we run this city. On the street, we’re called the Kings of Vegas. But among us, we’re simply brothers.
Not by DNA.
But absolutely by blood.
We’ve shed enough blood for each other, that we’ve bonded in ways that we can never get out of. Not that we’d ever want to.
We each have our own businesses. I have the sex club, but I also deal with dirty money. Julian is the diamond guy. Mateo runs drugs and guns. And Carson owns casinos, which is a great front for more money laundering and pretty much everything else he can get his hands on.
His preferred job? Carson is an assassin.
He’s a bad motherfucker. Then again, no one wants to cross any of us, so I’m interested to find out what’s going on tonight.
Luke and Spider climb out of the car first, and when they give the all clear, we follow suit and board the plane. Julian and Mateo, along with their men, are already here.
“Jesus, it’s a party,” I say as I sit facing Julian. “What’s going on?”
“The Italians have decided they want my shipments,” he says coldly. “They killed ten of my men at the port and have settled in to take over my receiving.”
“Fuck that,” Carson says.
“Exactly,” Mateo chimes in. “We’re killing them all tonight and sending their heads back to Salvatore Rizzo.”
“I hate that fucker,” I mutter, shaking my head. “He tried to buy a membership to the club.”
Julian’s eyes narrow. “When?”
“Last year. What he didn’t know is that every application is run by me first. He didn’t try to hide his identity. Piece of shit.”
“He’s about to lose half of his men tonight,” Mateo growls. “And it will be my pleasure.”
We’re in four different black SUVs. We never ride with more than two of us in each car, just in case it gets taken out. That way, all four of us don’t go out at once.
I’ve done it this way for a decade.
Before we reach the port, I check the video feed on my phone. It’s after two in the morning, and my firefly is halfway through her shift. She’s still smiling, bustling about behind the bar. She looks relaxed and like she’s having fun.
She’s safe.
That’s the most important thing. We left Bruno behind to follow her back to her motel in case I’m not back in time to do it myself.
I pocket the device just as Luke pulls up behind Julian’s car about a hundred yards from the port.
We’ll walk in from here and catch them by surprise.
“There’s a rooftop here,” Julian says, pointing at a map of the area, “where I think Rome should snipe from.”
“You don’t want me on the ground?” I ask him.
“I want your eyes in the sky,” he replies as he puts his earpiece in. We all follow suit. “I think twenty of Rizzo’s men are in and around the building.”
“There are twelve of us,” Mateo reminds him. “I fucking like those odds.”
“And we’re hitting them unaware,” Carson says, cracking his knuckles. “It’ll be quick.”
Julian turns the page and shows us the building’s blueprints. Thanking fuck I brought my rifle, I break off from the others to climb a series of fire escapes up the abandoned building.
Won’t lie. I would have liked to get my hands on some of the Italian fuckers tonight, but taking out more as a sniper will also satisfy my need to take revenge for Julian’s men.
Who the fuck do they think they are, trying to take Julian’s run?
I slow my steps, sure to stay perfectly quiet as I walk up to the motherfucker already on top of the building. He must see my guys come into view because he raises his rifle, but I pull my knife, jerk his head back, and slice him open from ear to ear.
He gurgles as he falls, and I scowl at the blood that spurted onto my shirt.
I hate getting dirty.
With a shrug, I assume his last position and lift my rifle.
“In position,” I murmur so the others can hear. “One down.”
“We’re a go,” Julian says, and then all hell breaks loose below, sending adrenaline through my veins.
As the Italians scatter, I take aim.
“Two down,” I say, squeezing the trigger of my Barrett MK22, picking off men one by one. “Three.”
“Four,” Carson says, hardly breathing hard after pulling a man’s throat apart with his bare hands.
Scary motherfucker.
“Five,” Mateo says.
“Six and seven,” Luke announces.
One by one, we count them off. None of our men are hit.
“Twenty-two,” Julian says. “That was the last one.”
But I see more movement.
“No, there’s two more,” I say, taking aim. “Back of the building, hiding behind crates. I can’t get a shot.”
“On it,” Mateo says. “Only cowards fucking hide.”
He hits one, and the other runs right into my crosshairs, and I take the shot.
“Twenty-four,” I say calmly. “I’m coming down.”
By the time I walk into the warehouse, our foot soldiers are working on removing the heads from the bodies, so I stay out of the way of the blood.
It’s not that I’m afraid to get messy, as I’ve been covered in my fair share of blood. But tonight, there’s no need.
Spider swears as he slices his knife through a man’s throat.
Decapitating grown men is hard work.
“Why didn’t you just send their tongues?” Luke asks Julian with a grunt.
“Because receiving a crate full of twenty-four heads sends a message,” Julian replies smoothly as he takes photos.
“You’re not wrong,” Carson says as we walk back toward the cars. Julian’s men will stay behind and finish up here, but it already took far longer than I expected it to. It’s past six in the morning when we reach the plane.
I pull out my phone and see the texts from Bruno.
B: She got back to the motel fine. I’ll stay here until I have more instructions.
Without replying, I slip the phone back into my pocket and prepare to sleep on the flight back to Vegas.