The bikes slow as we approach a short dock. There, in the center of the dock, is a trio of black sedans. All Mercedes, from the looks of it. Diesel stops at least fifteen yards from the sedans. In the distance, I can see Manhattan with its gleaming buildings and intimidating skyline. If we weren’t here on business, I might enjoy exploring the island. But we are, so I stay focused. At once, the old ladies dismount from their old men’s bikes and stand off to the side. The doors of the sedans open and out steps two aging men, both with olive skin and bellies that keep their presence from sending fear down my spine. Neither is in the best shape. They both look worn and tired, even in their designer suits. Neither man looks nervous, but I know better. Forsaken doesn’t ride up on you like this and not spark even the smallest bit of fear.
An older woman steps out of the passenger side of the middle sedan, and she smooths her hair back. Her expression is flat, but she swallows her own saliva as a younger man, no older than Ryan or Ian, climbs out of the driver’s side. He looks vaguely like the shorter man I assume is Emilio. Immediately I peg him for Tony, the little prick that turned this into a full-on war. It’s satisfying, setting my eyes on the bitch that sent Michael out to kill his sister. I’m going to enjoy gutting him. The woman must be Gloria, Tony’s mom and Emilio’s wife. She’s a friend, but she’s with the enemy right now. Not her choice, I know. But still, I mentally work myself up for the possibility of having to wound her if it comes down to it. I can’t ask Ruby or Jim, or Alex or Michael to do it. So I promise myself that I’ll be the one to do it. It’s the kind thing to do.
“It seems you’re outnumbered,” Jim says, walking toward the Italians.
The taller one—he must be Carlo—chuckles. He shakes his head, brings a hand to his mouth and whistles. None of the brothers, not even Jim turn to look. I turn my head, followed by the rest of the old ladies. The Italians have men perched atop the three buildings behind us. Each one is carrying something similar to an AR-15. I can’t really tell from here. Leaning in to Wyatt, I tell him what I’ve seen. I move to take my helmet off and assume the position of keeping my back to his when he whispers, “Don’t take your helmet off.”
“Yes, baby.”
“I see my daughter, but where about my son and my solider?” Carlo’s eyes are fixed on the woman by Ryan’s side. She’s holding his hand tightly, and I feel for her. She didn’t have to do this, but she did. I love her even more for it.
From behind me, Bear and Torque slide open the door to the van and pull out Leo and Michael. Both men have one of those fabric drawstrings on their heads, and they’re handcuffed. We had to make it look like they’re our prisoners, so while they might be bound, they each have a key in hand to free themselves when they need to. That and the number of guns and knives we loaded them down with could slaughter a small village should they need to.
Ruby walks toward Jim. She’s removed her helmet, the only one of us to do so. Her eyes are cold, trained on Carlo. She says nothing as she stops by Ryan and argues with him, eventually forcing him to let go of the woman at his side. Ryan screams, “Fuck,” loudly and kicks at the tire of his Harley before crossing his arms and moving forward to stand by Diesel. With each slow, deliberate step, Ruby looks like a woman destroyed. Walking her daughter toward the man who stole her all those years ago has to eat away at her. It doesn’t matter if that’s not what’s really happening—it can’t be easy nonetheless. With tear-filled eyes, Ruby passes Jim and keeps her eyes steady on his until she turns her head forward and comes to stand right in front of Carlo. The weight of the situation is heavy on my heart.
Showing his stupidity and lack of patience, Carlo reaches out and grabs ahold of Ruby. He looks in horror as he sees Alex take a step backwards, not wanting to be close to him. The little move provides us enough time to deal with the snipers on top of the buildings. We all draw our guns, safetys off, and dive into position like we’ve practiced. I face Mancuso and stomp forward with the rest of my girls. Our men spin around and fire off round after round at the men atop the buildings. They’re untrained and slower than they should be for the job they’ve been given, because it doesn’t take long for our boys to take them out. Like a kid in a fucking candy store, Jeremy’s got an AK-47 in hand and he’s shooting at the tops of the buildings with a twisted goddamn smile on his face. I really do like this kid.
Ruby laughs despite being in Carlo’s grasp. She laughs maniacally, throwing her head forward. Carlo tries to ignore the show of insanity and pulls her closer to him, like he can bully her into submission. But I know Ruby and she doesn’t let him win. She throws her head back as hard as she can, connecting with his nose. Tony and Emilio both draw their guns while Gloria backs up unnoticed. When she finally does draw a piece, she points it at the back of her husband’s head. But it’s too late. All hell breaks loose, and our plan goes to shit.