TRISTAN
Sunday had snuck up on all of us.
Scarlet was getting ready in her bedroom against her will so she could go to her father’s funeral. Motshan had contacted us a couple of days ago, asking her to come so they could begin to show a united front. The older generation would think she was finally showing her respect like a good daughter should, and the ones on our side would feel reassured with her there.
We wouldn’t be attending the funeral for obvious reasons, but we would be lurking in the background. There was no way in hell we were just going to throw her to the wolves without any backup. And we’d stay hidden until it was time.
The plan was to get everyone that attended the wake—which would be damn near every person in their operation — into the ballroom.
The ballroom. These fucking people and their old money.
Once everyone was together, the door would be locked, and the meeting would begin. It was going to be a bloodbath, an absolute massacre. But I had to agree with Motshan—it was definitely going to be the fastest way to root out the bad apples and gain control.
And then we had to get our asses over to the Mad Dawgs family wedding reception before they got word that anything had gone down at Dulca’s. I wasn’t sure how we were going to pull that off with the sheer amount of cleanup we were going to need at the mansion, but Motshan supposedly had it all worked out.
He promised me he had enough men on his side to get the cleanup started before the authorities showed up and also have enough men to send with us to the reception. It seemed like a stretch, being able to pull off two massive attacks in one night on two different gang families, but we really didn’t have any other choice. I’d never attempted anything on this scale in my entire time in the business.
But there was always a first for everything.
And Scarlet was so excited, I didn’t want to burst her bubble by trying to come up with a different plan. She was ecstatic to be able to off so many assholes in her family and then turn around and do the same to the men who had kidnapped and tortured her. She was positively bloodthirsty.
The promise of getting her hired hitman after we helped didn’t hurt her excitement either.
I heard her walking down the stairs, and I looked up to see her dressed all in black. She was wearing a black dress with long sleeves that covered her tattoos, and the hem hit just above her knees. Her black hair was tied back in a twisted knot, and to cover her face, she wore a sheer veil that stopped at her chin.
The only thing that still looked like Scarlet was the pair of boots she was wearing. It was almost jarring to look at the rest of her outfit and then see those boots she was clomping around in.
“I was going to say you looked like a proper English lady today,” I told her as she jumped down the last couple of stairs. “But then I saw those boots…”
She shrugged and did a twirl to show off her entire outfit.
“There won’t be time for me to change before the wake,” she said, sitting down to fix the tie-up laces. “And there’s no way I’m walking into a fucking war zone in heels. I’d like to be able to actually protect myself. The way women are forced to wear heels in TV and movies when they’re supposed to be doing all these badass moves and killing people? No. No, thank you.”
I laughed and wrapped her in my arms after she finished with her boots and made her way over to me. I kissed the side of her head where the hat wasn’t in the way.
“You ready for this evening?” I asked her, tilting her head back in my hands to force her to look at me. Through the lace of the veil, I could still make out her eyes, and it reassured me to see there was no fear there.
“I’m ready for this shit to be over with,” she said firmly. “And just so you know, Sebastian promised we would go somewhere hot with lots of piña coladas once this is all over. I’m determined to be in a bikini for a month with absolutely no worries.”
“You just name the time and place.” I kissed her softly on the lips through the soft fabric.
“Where are the other two? It’s time to go.”
“They’re at the warehouse on Fifth. Rounding up the troops and moving them all to the Dulca mansion.” I glanced at my watch. “Seb and El will meet me at the funeral. And we will be just out of sight. Do you remember what you need to do if you need us?”
“Tug on my ear,” she said, running her fingers over her ear.
“And you’re carrying?” I asked her, looking at the dress she was wearing again. It wasn’t skintight, but it was tight enough I thought I’d be able to see the places she was concealing her weapons.
She grabbed my hands and ran them over her body, letting me feel a gun on each side of her ribs and then over her hips and down to her thighs, where she had one on each thigh as well.
“And there,” she said, pointing to her boots. “A gun in my left boot and a knife in my right.”
With that, the buzzer at the elevator rang, and she let out a heavy sigh.
“Motshan runs like a Swiss fucking train. Always right the fuck on time. Is it too late to just not go?”
“I don’t think so, poppet,” I laughed at her, giving her one last kiss before letting her go. “Just think how nice it will be to finally see him getting lowered into the ground.” I gave her a wink and got her to laugh.
“Good point. Seeing that fucker dead and gone will be worth it. Keep an open line of communication, yeah?”
“Always.”