Chapter 34
Thirty-Four
MATEO
Rome leads us out a side door and around to another building tucked in the trees, about a hundred yards from the house.
I have to admit, the property is beautiful.
Vegas is in the middle of a desert, but Rome has added grass and gardens, just like Julian did to his place.
They pay a shit ton in maintenance, but it’s a nice oasis away from the city.
When we reach the door, Rome punches in a series of numbers—twelve, if I counted correctly—before laying his hand on the screen and pushing the door open.
It’s nothing but a tiny concrete room. A metal chair sits in the corner, but that’s it. Just a box.
“Well this is . . . disappointing,” Carson says. “Did you run out of money on the house? Jesus, we’ll give you a loan, man.”
Rome smirks and presses a stone in the wall, and then a panel shifts in the floor, revealing a staircase that leads underground.
“So, you’ve been watching too many spy movies,” I say. “I like it.”
“I’ll give you all the code,” Rome says as he leads the way down the stairs. Lights flick on by motion sensor, illuminating all the way down. “Only the eight of us will have access to this.”
At the bottom of the stairs, he lays his hand on another screen, and a sensor scans his retina before the door clicks open.
“I really need to up my cool-007 game,” I mutter, and when we step inside, Julian whistles.
Carson goes right for the explosives.
And I cross my arms over my chest, taking it all in.
The room is massive, probably five thousand square feet, with walls covered in weapons.
Everything from handguns to sniper rifles, knives, throwing stars, crossbows—anything you could want.
There’s a firing range at one end of the room with four lanes for practice.
Carson has something similar to this in the basement of the King of Spades, and we’ve been training the girls down there.
This isn’t for training.
This is for war.
“Some might call you a little paranoid,” Julian remarks as he studies a wall of throwing knives.
Julian loves any kind of blade.
“My family is worth being paranoid over,” Rome replies as he leans his hips against a counter and crosses his arms over his chest, watching us as we check everything out.
“Where’s the flamethrower?” I ask him.
Carson laughs. He thinks it’s hilarious that I prefer fire.
“I have six of them in a cabinet over there.”
“Nice. Thanks.”
“The girls are likely talking about the gala on Saturday,” Julian says, and we all move to the center of the room to talk. “We should do the same.”
“I’m not one to bring other families into our business,” Carson says, and it’s no surprise to any of us. He doesn’t trust anyone, and for good reason. “So the fact that Cillian O’Connor is hosting at his resort makes me uneasy.”
“I don’t disagree,” Rome chimes in. “We can’t control as much if it’s not in our building.”
“I can see that,” I reply with a nod and push my hands in my pockets. “But whoever this Lincoln is, he doesn’t know any of us. It makes sense for Cillian to invite him. Not to mention, plans are already up and running.”
“Let’s call Cillian,” Rome suggests, and I pull my phone out of my pocket and hit video call. We keep the range behind us so he can’t see the armory.
Cillian is an ally, but he’s not part of the family.
He answers, and his blue eyes narrow when he sees all four of us fill the screen.
“I’m pissed that I wasn’t invited to this party,” he says dryly. “Where the fuck are you?”
“Vegas,” I reply with a smirk. “We want to talk about Saturday.”
“Good. I was about to call you. Lincoln just RSVP’d for two and bought an entire table.”
I lift an eyebrow. “He paid a million for the table?”
“He doubled it, said it was for a good cause.”
“Jesus Christ,” Rome mutters, pacing away. “He has a trafficked woman with him. How honorable of him to donate money to a charity helping women like Rose.”
“Did he list her as his plus-one? That was required for the table settings,” Julian asks, and Cillian nods.
“He lists a Rose Anderson as his date.”
“He changed her last name,” I mutter. “Now that we know for sure that they’ll be there, we need to talk about logistics. We’ll have an army there, Cillian, inside and out.”
“I’m afraid I can’t agree to that.”
“I fucking told you,” Carson growls.
“I’ll have my army there,” Cillian says, remaining calm. “Of course I expect you to bring your number twos and your personal guards. That’s fine. But I can’t have you add in another hundred men.”
I glance at my brothers. They’re all tense, and I am, too, because there’s no fucking way.
“You’re asking us to bring our women onto your turf without our own army.”
“I’m not your enemy,” Cillian reminds us. “I have no skin in this game, for lack of a better word. I don’t like it when women are hurt and sold like sheep. So, your women won’t be in danger in my place, not ever.”
His eyes heat at the insinuation that it could be any other way.
“I’ll have four guards with Violet,” I inform him. “And I know the others will want the same, at the very least.”
“I have no problem with the guards,” Cillian reiterates. “We’re also not allowing weapons in the ballroom.”
Carson laughs and cracks his knuckles. “I don’t need a gun to kill someone.”
“Exactly,” Cillian agrees. “Lincoln doesn’t know this is a setup to get his woman. If we plan this right, it should be clean with no shots fired.”
“Then let’s start planning.”
I can hear my savage girl laughing when we walk into the house. We follow the noise to the kitchen, where the girls are sitting at the island, chatting while they watch the chef prepare dinner.
“Are you all fueled with testosterone now?” Lulu asks as Rome wraps his arms around her from behind and rubs his hands over her belly.
“We don’t need the armory for that, little bartender,” Carson says with a wink.
I watch in fascination as Rome’s hands glide under his wife’s belly and he lifts it. Lulu sighs and leans back against him.
“Oh God, that’s so good. I love her but she gets so heavy.”
“That’s brilliant,” Violet says, watching. “Just follow her around like that until she delivers.”
Rome plants his lips in Lulu’s hair. “I would in a heartbeat.”
“He would,” Lulu agrees. “But he has shit to do. Hell I have shit to do, but I’m now banned from bartending at Rapture until I’m three months postpartum.”
She pouts, but not one person here feels sorry for her.
“You can visit once a week,” Rome tells her. “But no working.”
“I love you guys,” Carson says, “but I can’t listen to more pregnancy talk. Sorry, pretty girl. Are we eating, or what?”
“Oh, we’re eating,” Lulu says with a laugh. “Let’s go.”
Despite being in a new location, and the fact that Lulu didn’t cook, family dinner is pretty normal. Violet sits next to me at the table, and as I’m talking with Julian, I feel her slip her hand on my thigh and give it a squeeze.
I glance down at her and lift an eyebrow to make sure she’s okay.
She smiles, and goes back to talking with Natasha.
“I like her,” Julian says softly, so only I can hear.
“I do too.”
“I have what you asked for,” he adds, and slips it from his pocket, and I put it in mine without anyone noticing.
Several hours later, we take our leave, and Lulu hugs Violet on our way out.
“Thanks for showing us your tattoos,” Lulu says. “They’re so beautiful.”
“You’re welcome.” Violet rests her hand on Lu’s belly, and it makes something shift inside me. I’ve never thought about wanting kids, but seeing her like this, I can picture it.
And now it’s my life’s ambition to get her pregnant.
Of course, I have something else to do first.
When we climb into the back of the SUV, Violet surprises me by not buckling in by the door. Instead, she slides to the middle seat next to me, secures her belt, and then leans into me.
“You okay, Savage?”
I loop my arm around her shoulders and kiss the top of her head.
“I’m great, just sleepy. I haven’t been sleeping well.”
I know she hasn’t.
I’ve woken up several times in the middle of the night to find her sitting on the sofa in the living room, watching the lights of the Strip.
And I know it’s because she’s worried about her sister.
“I’ve got you, baby. Doze if you want to.”
She nuzzles against me, and we’re quiet in the dark as Diego drives us back into the city.
When we’re parked by the elevator, I pepper kisses on her head and her temple, and ghost my fingertips down her cheek, waking her up.
“Come on, sweetheart. Wake up.”
“That was fast,” she mumbles and pushes her hair off her cheek.
With a grin, I help her out of the vehicle, and when we’re in the elevator, she walks right into my arms, her face pressed to my chest and her arms wrapped around my middle. I hug her to me and plant my lips in her hair, breathing in her vanilla scent.
“You okay?” I ask her again.
“I’m so grateful for you and all of those people.”
My heart picks up, and my pocket suddenly feels heavy. Rather than get out on the penthouse level, I push another button on the control panel, and we go up one more level.
“Where are we going?” she asks.
“You’ll see.”
I’m not at all nervous as I lead her onto the roof of the building, and Violet gasps next to me as her feet pause and her gorgeous blue eyes go wide, taking everything in.
I follow her gaze and am pleased with how this turned out. Lights are strung overhead, giving the whole area a nice glow. I’ve had flower beds added, and they’re overflowing with color. I have no idea what the different blooms are called, but I wanted the same flowers as what’s on her skin.
And in the middle of it all is a pergola with green lanterns hanging in the corners and plush furniture with deep cushions. There’s a bucket of champagne at one side of the sofa, with two flutes sitting on the coffee table.
“What is all of this?” she asks, and I glance down to find her wide gaze on me.
“This is for you.” I shove my free hand in my pocket and fiddle with the ring there. “You like flowers.”
“I love flowers.” She swallows and clears her throat. “Can I tend to this garden?”