“Looks that way, boss.”
“Let’s see how that goes for him.”
Matteo grinds his teeth from side to side. He does it loudly, like he always does, drawing my glance. The tension in the man is evident to see.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I’m sorry.” He sighs shakily. “But what the fuck was Patton doing snooping around Irish territory all by himself? Why didn’t he have some backup? Where was security? Patton’s too smart for this.”
I almost tell Matteo right then. But I’m certain this is the safer way. I can’t risk the Irish finding out.
Even though I trust Matteo and the rest of my men, the risk simply isn’t worth explaining what Patton was doing.
A man in my position has to be cold sometimes, even concerning his own people.
Everybody needs to believe this.
Because let’s say there’s a rat somewhere, even if that’s unlikely as hell, and Conor finds out what’s really going on, it's trouble. He’s got his hands on Patton. Then what?
He shoots him in the goddamn head. He executes my cousin.
“Don’t go wild in there,” I tell Matteo. “No violence until I act first.”
“You got it, boss,” Matteo says. “And I didn’t mean any disrespect about Patton.”
“I know you didn’t.” I laugh grimly. “Hard to disrespect a man when you’re calling him smart.”
Matteo laughs just as darkly. “Yeah, the only person smart enough to do that is the fella we’re trying to save.”
We share another laugh, not because it’s funny necessarily, not because we want Patton to get hurt.
But we’re Family men. We laugh in the face of danger. We both know there’s a chance we don’t come out of this alive.
“We should’ve brought backup,” Matteo grumbles.
“Conor said he’s only allowing two of us.”
“Allowing that piece of shit.”
I keep driving, trying not to picture the vicious turn this could take if things don’t go according to plan. I try not to think of Lena standing at the front window of the safe house, Jackson in her arms, waiting and waiting for me to arrive.
I’ve put contingencies into place. Trusted men will get her and Jackson out of the states if I don't return.
Conor will never get his hands on her.
But what if that fails?
There’s a reason I’m keeping this all secret.
What if some of my men switch sides after I’m dead, and they offer up Lena as a way to buy their lives?
Fuck.
I can’t think like this. I never would normally, not before a meet, but the emotion with Lena has got me completely twisted up.
It’s a struggle not to picture her face when she told me, the clear emotion blazing in her eyes, her flushed cheeks, and our future raging from every inch of her.
I should’ve kept kissing her, carried her upstairs, and tried again, but this time with the passion of our connection infusing each movement.
We’re going to have children together. A family. All the things I never thought I’d have.
I slow down outside the warehouse, the setting sun casting orange rays across the water and the surrounding area.
Doing my best to wall off my mind – to push away all the longing for Lena, at least for now – I step from the car and head toward the entrance. Right away, two of Conor’s men step out, their faces cold, their eyes flinty.
The bigger of the two men steps forward. He’s bald except for around the edges, and his remaining hair is thin, brown, and wild.
“No guns,” he grunts.
“We’re not giving up our weapons,” I tell him flatly.
“No guns,” he repeats.
“Are you deaf, motherfucker?” Matteo snaps.
“No gun –.”
“Only an idiot would walk into this situation unarmed,” I cut in. “There’s no way in hell Conor doesn’t have a piece on him. I can see you two are armed. We’re not giving up our weapons.”
“Prefer we execute your cousin, do you?” the man spits.
I keep my face as a mask, even as his words cause my rage to churn deep within, to twist up inside of me, and my chest clamps at the thought of Patton losing his life.
But I can’t let them see the power they have over me. I can’t let them see I care.
“Patton is ready to die if that’s what it takes,” I say. “All my men are. So Conor can either execute him or let us in to discuss terms.”
The man stares at me for a moment, then glances over his shoulder at the other man.
The other man shrugs. “Ask the boss.”
“Wait here,” the first man snaps.
I try not to fidget as he disappears into the warehouse. A dark part of me wants to turn savage, take out my weapon and start shooting, make these fuckers pay for taking my cousin and trying to claim my woman.
My woman.
Her voice repeats in my mind over and over as disbelief touches me with a heavy sense of destiny close behind it.