Chapter 16 You – Koen
YOU
KOEN
Now
It’s her.
It’s actually fucking her.
I knew it. I’d known it the second they’d dragged her out of the van, back out on the street.
And she recognized me, too.
Fucking hell.
Even with the mask on, she knew me. I could see it in her eyes, even before she spoke.
“It’s you.”
Her voice doesn’t just sound familiar, it feels familiar.
The memory of it has been echoing through my mind for years, had woven itself into the very fabric of my being.
Something long dead flickers back to life inside of me at the sound.
I stare down into ocean blue eyes, unsure of what to say, but before I can say anything, shouts at my back force my attention away.
Aidan and Liam have got the slimy bastard, the one who’d whipped her, tied to a chair.
The man’s bleeding from where I shot him in his hand and knee, pleading with my younger brother who’s glaring down at him with the promise of death in his eyes.
Aidan draws back his hood and slides down his mask, revealing his face before locking in on his target.
Here we fucking go…
“Don’t move,” I growl at the girl, who’s still shivering at my feet before I rise, turning to fully assess the scene unfolding at my back.
The Italian’s eyes dart wildly around, searching for help that’s not coming. “Look, man, I—I’m just a hired gun,” he jumbles out. “I only do what I’m told.”
“And who does the telling?” Aidan plays with the gun in his hand, unloading and reloading the cartridge. His Irish accent comes out far thicker than usual, ensuring the guy knows exactly who he’s dealing with.
The Irish Devils.
The Italian’s mouth snaps shut, and he looks uneasy.
“Plot twist: it gets worse for you.” Aidan clicks the safety off of his gun and there’s a dangerous glint in his eye when he says, “Whatever comes out of your mouth next determines how much worse.”
The man licks his lips, still looking between the three of us: Aidan, Liam, and me. His eyes calculating.
“Whose warehouse is this?”
My man doesn’t miss a beat when he gives his answer, “Matteo Carroza.”
Aidan and I exchange a look. He’s telling the truth; it’s the reason we targeted this warehouse in the first place.
Matteo is the Italian’s consigliere, second-in-command to Cole DeLuca.
Have the Italians finally expanded their business into the skin trade?
My money had been on the Russians. Especially considering the Russian-manufactured guns we’d found inside some of the crates stacked up by the entrance.
My brother straightens, holstering his gun. The Italian visibly deflates, missing how my brother reaches instead for the baseball bat Liam’s holding. He must have found it lying around somewhere.
“Wait, wait!!” The goon panics. His eyes flash between the three of us and the bat in Aidan’s hands. “I have more—more information, please!” Aidan swings the bat casually in his hands, and the man’s pants darken as he pisses himself.
“I’m waiting…”
The Italian looks between my brothers, a pained expression on his face.
“Time’s up,” Aidan grins, winding up the bat one last time.
“No!” the man screeches, struggling violently in the chair. “I know who ordered the hit on Declan O’Rourke!”
Everything stops. Our father. Information we’ve been chasing for months now. Aidan’s bat freezes.
“It was the Lion, the Russian Lion—Adrik—Adrik Kostalov.” He nods furiously, eagerly. “He put the hit out that left old Dec’ dead.”
I don’t bat an eye when a second later, Aidan buries the bat in the pisser’s face.
“Fucking hell,” Liam mutters, looking over the mess.
Movement in the far corner has me drawing my gun, but I lower it immediately at the sight of Alex coming through another path in the crates surrounding us.
“There’s got to be thirty girls back there. Did you call for back up?”
“Garrett, Mac, and Jace are on their way,” Liam confirms.
“Keep the girls back there,” I order, remembering where we are and what needs to be done to keep everyone protected.
“Ace.”
There’s nothing short of devastation on Aidan’s face when he looks my way, but we’ve got a job to do.
“Put your fucking mask back on.” I don’t drop my gaze until that black balaclava is back over his face, hood pulled up, before I turn my attention to Liam.
“The guards?”
“All dead.” A muscle in my jaw ticks. That leaves no one else to interrogate. Aidan should’ve left the Italian alive, so we could get more information out of him. But at least that means no witnesses, except…
The girl.
I turn slowly back around to face her. Even if Aidan hadn’t pulled off his mask, she’s already recognized me. She was quickly becoming a problem. Another complication we can’t afford. Worse, considering when I turn around, the girl is gone.
The ropes and zip ties I cut away lie strewn about the floor, stained red with her blood, but there’s no sign of her. My eyes dart to the opening in the crates, the one Liam and Alex came through earlier. The one no one had eyes on a few minutes ago.
I take off at a run.
The narrow path cuts haphazardly through the warehouse. Wooden crates are just thrown about, no sense of order.
“Fucking Italians,” I mutter under my breath. The path only forks once and I cut left, praying my instincts are correct. They lead me to a side door. A glowing red exit sign sits high above it.
Not good. Not fucking good.
I barrel through it. Finding myself on the docks. The empty docks.
Fuck.
Chasing down problematic ballerinas isn’t exactly on my to-do list this week, but it looks like I’ll have to make a fucking exception.
I stare out across the dock, my eyes trailing over every shipping container, every decrepit building she could be hiding in.
There’s too many to search, too many directions she could have gone.
I growl low under my breath, knowing I have to go back inside and deal with that mess before dealing with her.
You can run, little Rose, but you cannot hide.
Not from me.