Chapter 26
Hellfire
No one was there. We spread out looking around, and I remembered what Butcher had said. “Look for something that would open a door.”
Ricochet nodded. “Doesn’t surprise me this fucker has a safe room.”
“You sure it’s in here?” Smoke asked.
“Considering how many men are dead out there in that waiting room, you can bet on it,” Lock answered before I could.
We all started searching, looking for any sign of a hidden door or something that would trigger a lock.
A rhythmic thunking had me looking over my shoulder and I saw Priest, one by one, flicking books off a bookshelf.
Shaking my head, I went back to searching.
It took a few minutes, but I finally saw it.
A small panel on the wall with a keypad.
It blended in with the rest of the wall so well I almost missed it.
Turned out this gaudy Italian wallpaper was good for something.
"Found it." Cocking my head, I studied the keypad. "Maybe the code is in his desk?"
"That would be a stupid place to keep it since that's where his enemies would search first," Riptide said with a laugh. I shrugged, but moved out of the way when Riptide stepped close to look at the pad. "Torque?"
"Yeah."
"Can you go out and get the small tool bag out of my saddlebags on my bike?"
"Sure."
"Take a couple of your guys," Lock told him. "I don't want anyone going anywhere alone."
The Berserker's Rage guys were on loan to us by their president, and while they were all more than capable of defending themselves, we didn't need to send them back in pieces. Their president might not blame us, but we didn't need to get our allies shot up or no one would fucking help us anymore.
I paced back and forth in front of the door while we waited for Torque and the others to get back.
"You're making me dizzy," Ricochet said, his hand shooting out to grab my arm as I passed him.
Glaring at him, I jerked away. "Sorry." I was too fucking jittery to have anyone touching me right now.
He shook his head. "You're going to make that gunshot wound worse."
"It's fine," I insisted, but stopped pacing. I didn't need the adrenaline dying back right as we confronted Amato. That would be embarrassing, passing out in the middle of Lock interrogating him. Fuck me, I’d never live that down.
Amato was the last puzzle piece. Getting rid of him ended half of our problems. All that would be left was Fremont. Fuck I was ready for it all to be over.
Torque appeared with the tool bag and Riptide went to work on the keypad.
He ignored our questions when we asked what he was using.
It was some kind of handheld device that he had connected to the keypad.
He was tapping away on it for a few minutes before there was a click and he pushed on the wall.
It swung open, revealing a small staircase.
Lock and Rip insisted on going first even though I was chomping at the bit to go kill the fucker hiding somewhere down on the main floor of the mansion.
Lock motioned for us to follow him and we did as he descended down the stairs.
"It must go behind a false wall, all the way down," I said, voice low.
Static nodded and kept pace with me as every step brought us closer to a bright light. I heard Lock talking before we even managed to get off the last step. The Berserker’s Rage guys were right on our asses, not wanting to miss anything.
"You may as well put the gun down, Amato," Lock said, voice calm and reasonable. "Your men are dead." If there were any left alive, Butcher and Toxic would find them. "And you're trapped down here."
Amato had a scowl on his face and he looked more like a sullen teenager than a mafia boss.
One who'd been caught doing something bad and was about to be punished for it.
The guy was in his early thirties, so it wasn't like he was a kid, it was just the impression I got.
This whole situation had come about because he had daddy's money and daddy's men to fight for him. He, himself, wasn't much of a threat.
He didn't look like he believed Lock when he told him his men were dead, but he also didn't seem to care.
He still had his gun aimed at Lockout, who was standing in front of him with his gun pointed down toward the floor.
He knew Amato had nowhere to run. The rest of us had our guns trained at the fucker's head, so it didn't matter that Lock didn't have his gun raised.
Lock was standing there, looking like the cocky asshole he was, but in this case he'd won the right.
Maybe having me and Butcher being kidnapped hadn't been his plan, but we'd won anyway.
Amato had made a huge fucking mistake bringing me and Butcher here.
He'd let his own demise in through the front fucking door.
"What are you going to do with me? I have money.
" Amato demanded, glaring at Lock as he lowered his weapon.
He knew better than to fire a shot. He'd be full of bullet holes in a matter of seconds. He wasn’t the ‘go out in a blaze of glory’ type.
We were fanned out around him, there was no way he'd be able to avoid the amount of lead we'd throw his way.
Lock's eyes narrowed and I knew he was considering whether he should even talk to this piece of shit, or just shoot him. I sure as fuck wanted to put a bullet in him and be done with it, but I waited for Lock's order.
"You're going to die," Lock said after a long moment. "But I'm going to give you the opportunity to have a say in your death."
Amato's eyes narrowed and his lip lifted in disgust. "What does that mean?"
"Tell me what I want to know and I'll make your death quick and clean," Lock said with a shrug. "Don't, and I'll let my men tear into you like rabid dogs. Your choice."
Amato's chest was heaving as he considered those options. The fact that he wasn't begging for his life was the only point of respect I was willing to give him. He knew it was useless. He wasn't leaving here alive. "What do you want to know?"
"How closely are you working with Fremont?"
A muscle twitched in Amato's jaw as he heard the question.
"I don't work with him," he spat. "He's a fucking peon.
We laundered some of his money for him, and in return he gave us intel.
I was planning to just keep him on the back burner in case I ever needed him to get me out of a mess.
" Amato turned his head and spat on the ground, as though talking about Fremont left a bad taste in his mouth.
"Do you have any other relatives set to take over the...family business?"
Amato's eyes flashed to the floor, breaking his eye contact with Lockout. "My cousin, Angelo, is to take over if something happens to me."
"Where's Angelo?" Lock asked.
"Somewhere here in my home."
"Then he's dead," I said, voice flat. When Amato's eyes met mine, I knew he saw zero emotion there in my gaze.
A pained expression passed over his face. "Then there is no one."
Lock nodded, a smile spreading over his face. "Good to hear. Where does your money go?"
"If..." He swallowed hard. "If both Angelo and I are dead, then my lawyer has been instructed to split it up amongst our families and the families of my men."
"Any of them itching to take over a broken mafia empire?" Lock asked.
"No. They're women and children," he said, as though we were monsters for contemplating going after them at all. As if he hadn't gone after women and children himself. He was the fucking scumbag here, not us.
"Good."
Amato's eyes widened as Lock lifted his gun and fired. The bullet tore through his forehead and blood and brains sprayed out the back of his head. His body crumpled to the floor.
"Fuck," Toxic muttered next to me, sounding disgusted.
My head snapped to where he was standing. "Where the fuck did you come from?"
"The stairs," Toxic said with a shrug, sounding as though I was the crazy one for asking the question.
"Where's Butcher?" I asked.
Toxic motioned over to where some of The Berserker’s Rage guys were standing and there was Butcher, leaning against the wall, watching the show.
He nodded at me and gave me that crazy grin of his.
There was blood streaked all over his face.
I was sure it was the same for me. I nodded back at him before turning my attention back to Lock.
His eyes stopped on Toxic. "Everyone taken care of?"
"A couple of guys made a run for it, but I put a tracker on their car. We wanted to check in with you before going after them," Toxic replied.
"Where'd you get a tracker?" Riptide asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
"That little bag you always keep with you." Toxic gave him a wide smile while Rip swore.
"Stay out of my shit, Toxic."
"Stop having such cool shit," he replied, with a shrug. He would keep going through anything left around and taking anything he thought might be useful in the future and wasn’t about to feel bad about it.
"Go ahead," Lock told him, giving him permission to go after the escapees. "Take The Berserker’s Rage guys with you."
“Priest, put a proper bandage on Hell’s leg so he doesn’t bleed out before we get to Crash Cart,” Lockout ordered. Priest had a small med pack on his belt. Nothing fancy, mostly just gauze and tape, the same kit they give every soldier. Most of us took similar things home from the military.
“Open that up,” Priest told me, pointing at my wound.
I knew what he meant. I sat down and untied the fabric, then ripped my jeans where the bullet went in, exposing my skin.
Priest packed a thick wad of gauze against the wound, then wrapped the medical tape around tightly.
This would hold long enough and stop the bleeding. Mostly.
“We’re going to have to rename you. Hellfire doesn’t work for me,” Toxic said, poking my bandage with his finger.
“Ow! Fucker!”
“I think bullet sponge works better. You know, because of the bullet in your leg. And the one you took in the shoulder a few months ago.”
“Yeah, yeah. I get it. Now go fuck off”
“Next time we do a raid I think I’m standing behind you. Let you soak up all the bullets.”
I flipped him off but couldn’t help but laugh with him.
We all headed back up the stairs, leaving Amato lying in his own blood, then out to the hallway that led us back to the first floor again, this time outside of the safe room. "Anyone here ever been fingerprinted?" Lock asked.
"We were when Ricochet threatened Trent," Smoke reminded him.
Lock looked over at Rip. "That something you can handle, or do we need Rat to do it?"
"Nah, Dash and I can take care of that. Rat gave us a way to get access to pretty much any system we want," he said with a grin. "I'll take care of it as soon as I get back to the clubhouse."
Lockout pulled his phone out as we all headed out toward the bikes. He frowned. "Hush called." He hit the screen and held the phone up to his ears. His face grew darker and more worried by the second as he listened.
"Everyone okay?" Priest asked, worry coating his tone. Hush had been left behind with a few others to guard the clubhouse. Priest's kids were there with the others. He had a lot to lose if something had gone wrong.
"Fuck," Lock barked out. "It's Kit," he said, his eyes going to me. "She tracked your phone. She tried calling. So did Hush. My phone's been off just in case we found you guys, didn't want it ringing at an inopportune time."
"Is she okay?" I asked, searching his face, my heart plummeting down into my ass.
"Pixie attacked her. Stabbed her."
My breath caught in my lungs as everything inside me twisted in agony. Smoke took over since I couldn't breathe.
"Is she fucking alive, Lock?" he asked, sounding like he was in as much pain as me.
"I...fuck...I don't know. Hush was taking her to the hospital because the ambulance was taking too long."
I didn't say a word, just sprinted toward the bikes as fast as my leg would let me, praying with everything inside me that she was still alive. My brothers were right behind me and I hopped on the back of Ricochet’s bike.
We raced away from Amato’s mansion as fast as the Harleys would go, leaving a mess behind, but my thoughts were only on my girl.