Chapter 59 – remi
Fifty-Nine
remi
Isend the last of ten rounds downrange and lower my pistol, grinning as I study the tight grouping in the center of my target. I’ve been smiling so much today that my cheeks are starting to hurt, and apparently, I haven’t been doing a very good job of hiding it.
“Okay, those are some pretty clean shots, but I know that’s not what’s got you grinning like that.
Matteo folds his arms and leans against the divider of my lane.
I eject the magazine, lock the slide back, and set my pistol on the bench, then turn to face him.
Gio stands two lanes over, still sending rounds into his target, while Madden occupies the lane between us, his earmuffs firmly in place as another shot cracks through the range.
I closed Sloane’s early because I was far too distracted to deal with customers but still needed somewhere to burn off all the energy I’ve been carrying around since last night. The boys were more than happy to stay behind for a little friendly competition.
“I gave Thiago a tattoo last night.”
“Okay.”
“Only I didn’t know he had me tattoo my mugshot number on his neck.”
Matteo’s eyebrows shoot up. “He did what?”
“Yeah.” I nod, still trying to wrap my head around it myself.
“Was he drunk?”
I swat his arm. “No.”
“Higher than a kite?”
“No.”
“Concussed?”
“Matteo!” I smack his arm again. “He was completely sober. And why is that so hard to believe? Look at me. I’m a fucking catch, okay?”
He laughs and nudges my shoulder. “I mean, sure, but that’s commitment, Remi. How many guys do you know, especially cops, who would tattoo a mugshot number on their body?”
“It’s crazy, isn’t it?” I bite the corner of my lip, but there’s no hiding my smile. “And then he asked me to go to Miami with him.”
“What’s in Miami?”
“He wants to visit his dad’s grave.” My smile softens as I look down at the pistol resting on the bench. “He hasn’t been there since he was a kid, and he asked me to go with him.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah.”
I’ve told Matteo enough about Thiago’s father that I don’t have to explain why the invitation means so much to me.
“So you’re going?”
“Of course I’m going. He doesn’t want to do it alone.”
Matteo watches me for a moment before a knowing grin works its way across his face. “Oh, you’re fucked.”
I laugh. “Completely.”
“Who’s fucked?” Gio asks, poking his head out from his lane.
I hadn’t even noticed that he’d stopped firing, but Madden has too, and both of them are looking our way now.
“Some guy tattooed her mugshot number on himself,” Madden answers.
He’s the only one of the three who doesn’t know about Thiago and me. Madden spends most of the year traveling for tournaments, chasing his dream of going pro and getting closer every year, so he misses a lot when he’s away. But we always make up for it when he’s back home.
The four of us grew up together, and even though we’re always missing Val and AJ when it’s just us, these boys are as much my brothers as Gio is.
“Damn, Remi.” Gio removes his eye protection and walks toward us. “You got that man all kinds of wound up over you. I bet he doesn’t know you peed your pants at your third-grade Christmas concert. Maybe he should.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Giovanni, you forget we grew up together. I know every embarrassing thing you’ve ever done. Don’t test me.”
The guys burst into laughter, and even Gio can’t keep a straight face for long.
“I can’t imagine ever falling that hard for anyone,” Matteo says, shaking his head. “Not happening.”
“Never say never,” I tease. “When you find yourself on your knees for some poor soul, you’ll think of me.”
“Nah, fuck that.” He steps back into his lane and slides a fresh magazine into his pistol. “Come on. Five rounds. Tightest grouping buys dinner.”
“I can’t. I’m meeting Thiago at the gym later.”
“Oh, fuck,” Gio groans. “Couples workouts? He’s so fucking done.”
“Yeah,” Madden agrees. “Might as well marry the guy.”
“That’s enough,” I mutter, unable to stop smiling as I send a fresh silhouette target downrange.
“Let’s do this. I’m starving,” Matteo adds.
The electronic timer beeps, and our four guns come up in near-perfect unison. Brass flies as round after round tears into the targets and scatters across the concrete floor.
“Is this really even a competition anymore?” I tease after bringing my target in and admiring my grouping.
The guys don’t get a chance to fire back before the front door alarm sounds.
My smile vanishes. We’re closed, so no one should be here.
The four of us remove our EarPros and safety glasses, reload our pistols, and head for the lobby.
“I thought the front door was locked,” I say.
“It was.” Gio checks his pistol as we enter the hallway. “I locked it myself.”
Weird.
Guns held low but ready, we continue toward the main entrance.
The boys instinctively move ahead, putting themselves between me and whoever’s waiting around the corner.
I don’t argue because I know it has nothing to do with whether they think I can protect myself.
They’ve been doing it since we were kids, just like I would throw myself in front of any one of them without thinking twice.
We round the corner, and two uniformed officers come into view.
I recognize one of them immediately as Thiago’s colleague, the same asshole who tried hitting on me at the gym. My eyes drop to the name on his uniform.
Grey.
The other officer is shorter and broad-shouldered, with a buzz cut and a face I’ve never seen before. Both men have their weapons drawn.
We stop several feet apart. Something about this already feels wrong.
As much as I care about Thiago, loving one cop hasn’t suddenly made me trust every person wearing a badge. These two somehow got through a door that Gio locked, and now they’re standing inside my closed business with guns pointed at my family.
“Put your weapons down,” Grey orders.
I keep mine lowered. “You first.”
His attention fixes on me.
“You came into my business after hours.” I continue. “Tell me why you’re here, and we can figure this out without anyone doing something stupid.”
Grey’s jaw flexes. “We got a call about gunshots. We came to investigate.”
I’m too confused to respond, and I glance toward the hallway leading to the range, trying to make sense of what he just said. These walls were built to contain gunfire. We can barely hear the range from the lobby when the doors are closed, much less from outside the building.
Whatever brought these men into Sloane’s, it wasn’t a call about someone hearing gunshots.
Matteo snorts. “Take a look around. Where the fuck do you think you are?”
“Yeah, that’s bullshit,” Gio says as he moves in front of me. “These walls are soundproof. Nobody heard a damn thing.”
I immediately sidestep him. I’d die before I let my baby brother take a bullet meant for me.
“Whatever call you got has nothing to do with us.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” Grey looks between the four of us. “IDs.”
“Fuck you,” Madden growls. “You don’t get to ID us just because you feel like it.”
Grey turns his attention to him. “Are you even old enough to be in here with a weapon?”
Madden doesn’t flinch.
The youngest of us is also the quietest, and people have always mistaken that for hesitation.
Madden doesn’t posture or raise his voice to prove he can hold his own because he’s never needed to.
Even now, with two guns pointed in our direction, his weapon remains lowered, and his attention stays fixed on the men in front of us.
He may only be seventeen, but anyone who mistakes his age for weakness learns quickly that Madden is Derek Cain’s son.
As furious as I am, I know how quickly this could turn into something none of us can undo.
One nervous trigger finger is all it takes, and I’m not willing to gamble with the lives of three people I love just to prove we’ve done nothing wrong.
I’m the oldest one here, and that means getting everyone out of this building safely matters more than my pride.
Keeping my movements slow, I set my pistol on the counter beside me.
“This is a huge misunderstanding.” I keep my attention on Grey. “I own Sloane’s, and these are my brothers. Like I said, this has nothing to do with us.” I hate the next words before I even say them. “I’ll show you identification. We all will. Just stop pointing your guns at my family.”
I motion for the boys to put their weapons down. They hesitate, looking between me and the officers, but eventually follow my lead. Madden is the last to set his pistol on the counter.
“This is bullshit,” he mutters.
“I know.”
The second officer speaks into his radio while Grey takes another step toward us.
“Step away from your weapons.”
Fuck.
Every part of me wants to tell him exactly where he can shove that order. We’ve lowered our guns, agreed to cooperate. There’s no reason for either of them to still have theirs raised.
I step away from the counter, and the boys follow just as the front door swings open and more officers pour into the lobby.
They were waiting.
Before I can process what’s happening, someone grabs my arms and wrenches them behind my back.
“What the fuck?” Gio roars. “Let go of my sister!”
I twist toward his voice, but another cop blocks my view as handcuffs close around my wrists.
“Don’t touch her!” Matteo shouts.
“Get the fuck off me!” Madden snarls.
I catch a glimpse of him fighting against the officers restraining him before three of them force his arms behind his back.
“Stop!” I shout. “He’s seventeen. Stop fucking grabbing him!”
No one listens.
I try to turn toward Grey, but the officer behind me keeps my arms pinned. “What are you arresting us for?”
No one answers.
“Hey!” I shout. “I asked you a fucking question. What is this for?”
Still nothing.
Anger burns through me as I look from Gio to Matteo and finally Madden. We did exactly what they asked, and the second we stepped away from our guns, a team that was already waiting outside came through the door. There was never anything to de-escalate.
They just wanted us unarmed.
I stop fighting the officer behind me and glare at Grey. Whatever brought him into Sloane’s tonight, it had nothing to do with a report of gunshots.
They came here for us.