Chapter 11 #2
We didn’t run, but we didn’t take our time either. By the time we hit Liberty’s office, 8-Ball and Turnpike were already there. Rosé leaned against a cabinet. Indigo stood by the door like a statue. Liberty sat behind her desk, phone on speaker in the center.
Blackjack’s voice filled the room the second she hit the button.
“You’re alive,” Liberty said. “Shockingly.”
“You wound me,” he replied. “Everyone in one piece?”
“For now,” she said. “Talk.”
The relief hit first. A wash of it, hot and fast. I felt my knees go a little weak and locked them before anyone noticed.
I moved to stand between 8-Ball and Valkyrie, back to the wall. I needed something solid behind me.
Blackjack didn’t waste time.
“Roman didn’t sign off on that shipment,” he said. “So, he’s either the best liar I’ve ever met, or he’s legitimately pissed someone used his docks to push something without his blessing.”
Liberty’s eyes narrowed. “You believe him?”
“I believe he’s angry,” Blackjack said. “He’s treating this like a violation of his code. I got the Omertà, seven rules, family-first speech, the whole nine. He’s going to go looking for who touched his pier.”
“You told him about the ledger?” 8-Ball asked.
“Yes,” Blackjack replied. “He knows it exists. He knows it came out of that bike that arrived on his dock. He knows it maps Vincino’s network and too many of his own people.”
Rosé’s jaw flexed. “How much did you tell him?”
“Enough,” Blackjack said. “Enough for him to realize it’s dangerous.”
“What about ‘The Russian’?” I asked.
Bringing that up made my stomach twist.
“Yes, the ledger mentions ‘The Russian’ as a bridge between Vincino, the Russian Syndicate, the Bolivar Cartel, and others,” Blackjack said. “But there’s no name. Just a title or nickname. Roman’s consigliere wears that like a crown. Vladimir was in the room with us.”
“And?” Liberty asked.
“And I told Roman what we found without spelling it out,” Blackjack said.
“He saw Vladimir at his bar and his wheels started turning. Salvatore was on the scene at the docks when the bike arrived too. His eldest, Valentino, was hovering near the throne with big eyes and bigger ambitions. Roman knows at least one of those three, or someone close to them, is either leaking information, or being used.”
“Any moves yet?” 8-Ball asked.
“Not that he’s showing,” Blackjack said. “But we seeded something. A fake route. A real pier but wrong warehouse, invented a made-up shell company. Talked about it like it was legit while Vladimir and Valentino listened. If anyone touches it, we’ll know exactly how fast the leak moves and where.”
Rosé’s lips curved slightly. “Bait,” she said.
“Exactly,” Blackjack said. “In the meantime, he’s agreed to help us while he does his own hunting just as long as we don’t turn that ledger into a weapon against him.”
“And the book stays where?” Liberty asked.
“Not in his walls,” Blackjack said. “He doesn’t want it anywhere near his house until he knows which of his walls are rotten. Which means it stays where it is for now. With you.”
Every eye in the room turned to me.
“And the idiot carrying it,” Liberty finished.
“Jersey stays with the ledger. Vipers stay with Jersey. Two clubs, one bomb,” Blackjack replied.
My pulse kicked.
Liberty’s gaze didn’t waver. “Fine,” she said. “He’s ours, then. Our guest for the time being. Our responsibility. Our leverage.”
“You always did love acquisitions,” Blackjack said mildly. Then his tone shifted. “You good with that, Jersey?”
“Yes,” I said. My voice didn’t shake. 8-Ball’s earlier words had burned into place, leaving muscle where panic had once been.
“Good,” he said. “Because this thing doesn’t move without you knowing where it is, who’s touching it, and where it’s going.”
Valkyrie’s arms were crossed, but I felt her look flick toward me.
“What about the Vincinos?” Turnpike asked. “Any word from their side?”
“Not yet,” Blackjack said. “But they know their package didn’t land. They know their bike wrecked. I’m sure they know someone tried to finish Miami and failed. They’re going to start feeling exposed. Desperate people move loud.”
“And the Feds?” Liberty asked.
“If they get a whiff of this ledger, everyone in it starts dying,” Blackjack said. “Including people who don’t even know they’re in it. We’re keeping this in the family. That means our families. No uniforms. No suits with badges. If a cop looks at Miami’s chart wrong, we handle it. Understand?”
“Copy,” Valkyrie said.
“Birdie’s still on him,” Liberty added. “Mink’s got eyes on any law enforcement chatter that if anything even breathes near Shoreline or a clubhouse we’ll know.”
“Good,” Blackjack said. “I’ll send word when Roman moves. He’s going to start asking questions. When he finds something, I want us ahead of it, not chasing it.”
He paused.
“One more thing,” he said. “The contingency stands. You all heard it before. You’re hearing it again. If I ever go dark for real—not just this meeting, but anything that smells wrong—Eight takes the chair. Jersey runs teeth and declares war. You fall in. No debates. No martyr bullshit. Clear?”
“Yes,” 8-Ball said.
“Got it,” Turnpike said.
“Yeah,” I said. “Clear.”
“Atta boys,” he said. I could hear the smirk under it. “Try not to do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“That leaves the bar real low,” I said.
He laughed. It was short and warm and edged.
“Get that ledger locked up Liberty. Keep it safe and hidden where nobody can grab it, even if all hell breaks loose.”
Liberty lowered her boots from the top of her desk and leaned over the desk. “Will do. And Alice?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t fucking die.”
A grunt sounded out from the other side. “I’ll do my best,” he replied.
The call ended a few beats later and Liberty leaned back in her chair.
Silence settled.
Then she looked at me.
“Bring me the bag,” she said.
I took it off and handed it to her.
“Let’s bring this down to the heavy locker,” she said, and with that, we all followed her out of her office.
The basement felt older than the rest of the compound. Older than the bikes. Older than the women who’d filled this place with new ghosts.
Concrete walls sweating cold. A smell of oil and dust and something metallic that clung to your teeth. One bare bulb swinging near the stairs, throwing long, slow-moving shadows over everything.
Liberty walked ahead, keys jangling at her hip. Valkyrie paced beside me. Rosé brought up the rear. Indigo stayed by the stairs, shotgun already in hand just in case shadows decided they wanted to be more than just shapes.
The safe sat in an alcove behind an old metal door that looked like it had belonged to a bank or a fallout shelter. Fireproof. Thick enough that I was pretty sure you could drop the whole building on it and it would still be sitting there, smug and untouched.
Liberty unlocked the outer door, each turn of the key echoing.
“Charming,” I muttered.
“We do our best,” she replied.
Inside, the safe took up half the wall. Matte black. No manufacturer’s logo. Just a keypad and a heavy handle.
“This used to hold a lot of other people’s money,” Liberty said. “Now it holds ours.”
She punched in a code I didn’t bother trying to memorize; she covered the pad with her hand anyway. There was a soft beep, then a deep, mechanical thunk as the lock disengaged. She spun the handle and pulled.
Cold air sighed out.
One empty shelf waited. The others were full.
She took the backpack off her shoulder.
I couldn’t help but feel that seeing her set it down was losing the last piece of control I had.
Valkyrie watched but didn’t say anything.
Liberty stepped forward and placed the bag on the empty middle shelf. Centered it without thinking. It looked small and mean and out of place in the cavernous steel. She looked at it like it was a snake in a glass tank.
“From now on,” she said, “this doesn’t move without me and Blackjack agreeing. It doesn’t open without at least two of us present. Me, Rosé, Valkyrie, or Jersey. No one else.”
Rosé nodded once.
Valkyrie’s eyes stayed on the bag. “What about the tech inside?” she asked. “Those drives.”
“Later,” Liberty said. “One problem at a time. ledger first. We don’t know what those drives could be or do. Not worth risking it.”
She reached up and pulled a small key with a chain from a hook inside the safe, then turned and tossed it.
Valkyrie caught it out of the air. Metal flashed in her palm.
“Code’s mine,” Liberty said. “Key’s hers. You,” she looked and pointed at me, “are the only one who’s actually read enough of it to know what we’re really sitting on. That means this nest only works if the three of us are on the same page. Clear?”
“Clear,” we both agreed simultaneously.
I watched her close the safe. The door boomed shut, heavy and final. The lock engaged with that same deep clunk.
The ledger was out of my hands now. It didn’t feel like any of the weight had left my shoulders though. It just felt like I wasn’t the only one under it anymore.
By the time we came back up, the light outside had shifted. Less harsh. Longer shadows.
8-Ball and Turnpike were out in the yard by their bikes, helmets hooked on bars.
Vipers watched from porches, from windows, and from the gate.
Liberty walked out ahead of us, the de facto hostess sending guests off from her haunted house.
“Tell everyone we’re gonna get through this,” I said to 8-Ball as we approached.
“I will,” he replied. “And you keep your head out of the sand.”
He grabbed the back of my neck and pulled our foreheads together. Not as hard as earlier, but enough.
“You call if anything twitches wrong,” he said. “You listen to Liberty. You listen to Valkyrie. You don’t go chasing ghosts alone. I don’t care how tough you think you are, if you end up in a ditch out here because you tried to be a one-man army, I’ll personally come dig you up and kill you again.”
“Yes, Vice,” I said, voice low.
He gave me a little shake, then let go.