With a nod, I stand and stretch my back out. It feels like we've been sitting here and talking forever. I point at the food in his hands and tell him that it's getting cold. I leave the small, decrepit cabin, exchanging a few words with the guys we pulled in from down south to keep an eye on Junior. It’s darker out now than I expect it to be for early evening.
I didn't like having to pull from other charters, but I had no choice. Every time I turn around, I got one more fucking person I have to protect. We used to be a ten-man charter, but that was before Junior blew into town and one of his guys took out Chief. Now, being down to nine, and needing a detail on the safe house—and after last week, Cheyenne, too—I don't have any more bodies to keep on everybody.
I’m halfway to my bike when the sound of gravel crunching under tires alerts me to an approaching vehicle. I pull my .44 out from the back of my jeans, unlock the safety, and whistle at the guards on duty. Their heads pop up, and they ready their guns—long-range rifles—toward the narrow gravel stretch that leads down to Highway 101. From between the trees appears a slick, black Mercedes. Nobody should know this place is here. The drive up from the highway is long and windy for a reason.
The car stops, and out steps a tall man with broad shoulders in an expensive as fuck black suit. From his olive skin tone to the suit on his back and the car he rolled up in, this is Mancuso’s guy. One of the guys behind me yells at the Italian to drop to the ground, but he doesn’t move. He raises his hands in the air and smiles just as two men step out from the woods wearing similarly pricey suits and holding guns that match the rifles I gave my men. My stomach drops as I realize we’re evenly matched and too far away from civilization for anyone to hear shots being fired.
And my evening goes from decent to fucked-up immediately.
Chapter 17
“YOU LOOK PANICKED. Forgive me, Mr. Grady,” the man in the suit says. He smiles wide and rotates his wrists in the air. “I have been sent to deliver a message for Forsaken.”
The fact that this fuckhead knows my name makes this situation even worse. Having some Italian prima donna come at me is going to put me on edge no matter what. But here, at the safe house, it’s even worse. My nerves are fucking shot, and I have no doubt that this is the asshole who has big enough balls to come at my kid at her school. The gun itches in my hand as I focus my attention down the barrel and on his heart. If I didn’t need information out of him, I’d put a bullet in his chest right now and just take my chances on the guards having my back and taking out the other two. But taking him out doesn’t resolve anything.
“Who are you?” I shout, careful not to redirect my shot.
“I am a representative of Mr. Mancuso,” he says. I don’t even try to get a name out of him because he’s already decided what he’s going to give me. The best I can hope for is that Junior hears some of this, but keeps his mouth shut. Despite our soundproofing efforts, the cabin is old, and we don’t want anything inside that would tell a nosy sheriff that it’s anything more than an abandoned property that’s been subject to squatters.
“And the message?”
“Family is very important to Mr. Mancuso. He has requested the safe return of both Michael and Alexandra.”
“Yeah, I’m sure. The last place Princess is safe is with your organization,” I snap. It’s not something I call Alex often—Princess—but this guy is digging himself into a deeper and deeper hole. He went after my kid, and now he’s suggesting I’m too fucking stupid to know how much danger Alex would be in if we just let her go back to New York.
“Princess?” he asks. His smile falls. “So then you know how important Alexandra is to our family.”
“Kind of figured it out when Junior and his friends showed up. Too bad none of them made it back to New York to tell you how hospitable we are here on the West Coast,” I say. I suck in a deep breath and stand a little straighter. For the first time since he rolled up, I feel on even ground. The cocksucker may have caught me off guard, but now that I’ve found my footing, I’m thinking more clearly.
“It’s unfortunate that you aren’t more agreeable. I should advise you that I won’t be leaving without the Prince and the Princess. The length of my stay is entirely up to Forsaken.” His expression sours with every word he speaks.
“You will be leaving, and you’ll be doing it alone. It’s up to you if you do it in a pine box or on two feet.”