Chapter 32
RECKLESS REIGN
KOEN
Now
“We’ve got a problem.”
My grip tightens on the phone as I hear Mac’s words on the other end of the line.
“What now?” My irritation comes through in my tone. I swear, ever since my father died it’s been one fucking thing after another.
“Shipment never made it to the docks.”
I start pacing the room. “What do you mean it never made it?”
“The truck disappeared somewhere between Quincy and Southie. We haven’t heard from Donny. No sign of him—and no sign of the cargo. Liam is doing his best to track him down.”
Fuck.
My phone’s been ringing off the hook all day.
Cole DeLuca and Adrik Kostalov are pissed, and neither of them are fucking around, both out for blood. The Irish aren’t too thrilled about my brother’s new little Russian bride either but they’ll get over it.
“You think it was the Russians?”
“Russians or Italians. Who do you think hates us more at the moment?”
I sigh. “Keep your ears on the ground and double-up guard rotations on every warehouse from here to Revere. Trusted men only. No new guys.”
“Understood.” Mac’s reply is tight and I can tell he’s got something else to say.
“Out with it.”
“Do you want me to cancel the meeting tonight?”
My jaw tightens. With the intel we tortured out of Carroza, I was able to confirm that Giovanni Moretti is our in to the human trafficking trade currently exploding in the Boston Underworld.
“No. We have to keep up appearances. The Bratva and the Italians might be out for blood, but we can’t look like we’re scared. Business still moves forward. We can’t afford to look weak. Got it?”
“Loud and clear, Rí,” Mac confirms, and I hang up the phone, sinking into the couch and leaning my head against the back.
Just killing guys on the ground won’t do anything to throw a wrench into this operation.
I want this shit out of my fucking city, so I need to figure out who’s involved.
This is no rinky-dink organization. Not with Kostalov and the Volkov involved.
When we intercepted the Volkov attack on the Kostalov mansion a couple of weeks ago, it was clear the Volkov are funding the Kostalov Bratva. But to what end?
How far up the chain does this thing go? Police, city officials… maybe even state politicians?
My brothers and I decided the best course of action was to go in as an interested buyer. Seeing as how I’m the reigning mob boss for the Irish, it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for me to take an interest in the trade. And that means a meeting with Moretti is the first step.
We raided their warehouse of girls, but they don’t know that.
Time to lean on Moretti and see what exactly I can squeeze out of the Italian rat.
The elevator dings and instinctively I reach for the gun at my waist. It’s a little too early for Liam to be home yet and I sent Aidan and his new wife, Rory, out of the city until the heat dies down, as well as Reagan with Alex for protection.
Neither Aidan nor I will ever forgive ourselves if anything happens to our little sister because of this mess.
But with all of them gone, no one else should have access to the loft.
Lifting my gun, I train it on the elevator doors, only to pull it up hard when none other than Reagan herself comes storming through it. She stops dead at the sight of the gun, surprise quickly turning into a glare.
“What the fuck?” I growl, flicking the safety back on and shoving the gun away.
“Really, Koen?” She puts a hand on her hip like I’m the one being unreasonable.
“What the hell are you doing here? Where the fuck is Alex?”
Not a second later, Alex trails out of the elevator after Reagan.
Perfect. He looks guilty as all hell.
“I tried to call—”
I remember seeing all the missed calls from him on my phone.
“What the hell am I doing here?” Reagan snaps, stalking closer, her heels clicking sharply against the hardwood. “I live here, do I not?”
“Yes,” I growl out, stepping closer, but she doesn’t back down. She never backs down. “But you’re supposed to be in a safe house in Vermont.”
I point my finger at her and she lifts her chin, arms crossed while looking me in the eye. “I don’t think that’s your call to make.”
“Not my—” I start but she keeps going, cutting me off.
“I’m not one of your little soldiers you can boss around, or a pawn to move around on your chessboard. It’s my life and it’s my decision.”
My eyes slide to Alex, hovering uselessly by the elevator doors, looking like he’d rather be in a Bratva torture cell than stuck between two siblings at war.
“I’m sorry Rí, she was relentless. When I stopped for gas she started walking back to Boston… refused to get back in the car unless I agreed to take her home. I tried to call—”
Honestly, it’s no surprise she managed to berate him into turning around.
He has a soft spot for her. I pull out my phone, scanning through the calls to see a few I missed from Alex.
With all the chaos happening after Aidan’s impromptu wedding, I haven’t been able to get back to everyone yet.
I let out a sigh, running my fingers through my hair.
“I’m not a child,” Reagan hisses, and I peer down at her. “You can’t keep shipping me off like a piece of luggage every time you piss off someone in the city.”
“It’s to keep you safe.” And I mean that, I know what men like the Bratva and the Italians or the Cartel would do to her if they ever got their hands on her. I couldn’t live with myself if I let it happen.
“I’m tired of safe. Safe is killing me. I have to be able to live, Koen.
” Tears well up in her eyes before she wills them away, clenching her jaw—as well as her fists—as she stares me down, throwing her energy into her anger to keep from breaking down.
“I’m here all day, in this apartment. I have to ask permission to go out.
I have to have an escort. Two of your guys, if not one of my brothers.
” She rolls her eyes. “You’ve built me a prison. ”
“Better a prison than a grave,” I mutter, but my words lack conviction because I know she’s right.
Growing up as the youngest daughter in a mafia family hasn’t exactly been easy.
Her life already wasn’t her own before, but since our father died and I ordered a lockdown, it’s not a question that she’s gotten the shortest end of the stick.
“You’re not wrong. I’m not disagreeing with you but the Bratva—”
“It’s never a good time! There’s always going to be someone, somewhere, who wants to hurt me.
I can’t just sit around waiting for it to happen.
I won’t.” Her chin lifts and the glint in her eyes grows sharper—unyielding.
I recognize it, I’ve seen it before; it’s a silent promise that no threat in the world would move her.
I look away, toward the sky while I try and figure out what the fuck to do with my rebellious little sister.
“Fine. No Vermont. But you don’t leave this apartment.”
She rolls her eyes and I take a step toward her, my eyes narrowed. “I mean it, Reagan. I’m not fucking around this time.”
She glares at me for a long while. “Fine,” she spits out with a small snarl, turning on her heel and storming down the hall. A moment later I hear her door slam shut.
For not wanting to be treated like a child, she sure knows how to throw one hell of a tantrum.
I sigh, looking over to Alex.
“I’m sorry, Rí.” He hangs his head, looking away from me.
“It’s fine.” I wave it off. “I know how she can be.”
My phone buzzes and I read over the incoming text about another potential distribution issue.
The elevator dings again and we both look up to see Liam strolling into the loft, hockey bag over his shoulder. He stops when he spots Alex, looking between us in confusion, knowing just as well as I do that he is supposed to be in Vermont. “What’s going on?”
“Don’t ask,” I mutter.
He drops the bag, coming around the couch to join us. “Reagan threw a fit, didn’t she?”
I glare at him.
“Called it,” he says, amusement in his tone.
Ignoring him, I turn my attention back to Alex.
“Since you’re back, I need all hands on deck tonight.
Get cleaned up. We have a meeting with Giovanni Moretti at Wonderland down by the docks at midnight.
Call Mac and have him put a couple guys on the door downstairs.
” My gaze travels over to Liam. “You’re coming, too. ”
Liam makes a face. “Are you sure that’s the best idea, considering we’re already on the Italians’ shit list?”
My jaw ticks, having already fielded this question from Mac. “No. But I want to fuck with the Italians some more,” I shrug.
Liam shakes his head. “This is a terrible idea.” And then a dark grin spreads across his face. “I’m in!”