Not waiting around any longer, we decided it was time to pay the source of our problems a little visit—kamikaze style. It took less than four hours for us to get to New York City on Levine’s private plane. Another two for us to take out Barone and his capos while they were eating dinner at Il Traviola. Stupid fucker set in his old ways. I knew exactly where’d they be and at what time.
And now, I’m looking at Carmine Ricci sweating bullets as he tries his best to meet Levine’s stare. The naked girl he was rutting like a pig when we surprised him cowers at the head of the bed, brown eyes wide with fear at the men in the room, their guns drawn and murder in their eyes. She looks like a goddamn teenager, and it wouldn’t surprise me if she actually was. Ricci, like Max, liked them young. Sick fucks.
The room smells of cigars and old man. Even the strong odor of his cum is stale. We interrupted him mid-coitus, but he must have taken one of those little blue male-enhancement pills or some shit because his dick is still fully hard and on display. My pinky finger is bigger. Not something I want to see, and I’m half tempted to tell him to cover himself. I genuinely feel sorry for the poor girl who clearly had to fake her orgasms from that tiny thing.
“Come on, sweetheart,” I tell her, holding out my hand. She has no choice but to take it. I nudge her over to Tessa, who insisted she come as well. She didn’t appreciate me telling Levine she’d be safer staying at Falcon Tower and relaying any vital intel to us once we got here. For a tiny little thing, Tessa can pack a mean punch with a lot of power to get her way. My jaw still aches where she clocked me.
Tessa takes over and wraps an arm around the girl’s shoulders. “My name is Tessa. You’re safe. No one is going to hurt you. Let’s see if we can’t find you some clothes,” she tells the girl, escorting her out of the room.
The staccato of gunfire still echoes all around us as our men take out every person standing in Ricci’s palatial townhouse. Ricci owns the three blocks surrounding it, and it’s where all his men and their families live. We’ll make sure the women and children get out safely, but the men under his command will see a very different fate.
We’re applying a scorched earth policy. No survivors. Levine called in a favor to his Irish kin, the McCarthys. One of the guys Levine spoke with, Cillian, was more than happy to provide the assistance we needed to wipe out both Ricci and Barone in one fell swoop. Gotta love the Irish mafia and their swift efficiency.
I realized where I’d heard the name McCarthy before. It was Max’s wife Cecelia’s maiden name. It’s Andie’s last name. Max never allowed Andie to carry the Rossi surname. But she wasn’t his anyway, right? Andie is full Irish with ties to two of the most powerful Irish families in the world.
“Keane, what is the meaning of this?” Carmine’s voice wavers slightly, giving away how scared he is while still trying to act the role of the big, bad mafia don. Hard to do when you’re balding, have an enormous, rotund belly, and are buck-naked and sweating profusely.
I defer to Levine. This is his show right now.
“Where’s my daughter?” Levine asks, his voice icy with a menace I’ve never heard before. It even sends chills skittering down my spine.
Over the past two days, he has earned my respect. The lengths he’s willing to go to for Andie. He clearly loves her. It doesn’t matter that he only recently found out that she was his daughter.
Carmine blinks a few times and wipes the moisture from his brows. “I don’t know your daughter. Now get the fuck out of my home.”
Totally wrong answer. Nobody flinches when Levine shoots Carmine in the thigh. The guy screams like he’s being sawed in half. Such a pussy.
“Please, I don’t know who you’re talking about,” he wails, doubling over as he tries to use the bedsheet to put pressure over the bleeding wound.
“Alexandria,” Levine bites out. “Where is Alejandro taking her?”
Carmine’s eyes go wide. “What the hell do you want with Max’s dau—”
Levine puts a bullet in his other leg, and Carmine screams again. “Don’t finish that sentence. She’smydaughter. He stole her from me. Last time. Where is Alejandro taking her?”
Ricci’s sobs punctuate the room. Spit and snot pour down his face as his red, bloodshot eyes beg me and Jax to help him. To stop this. With the amount of blood pulsating out of his left thigh, Levine must have hit a major artery. It won’t be long before Carmine bleeds out and our chances of getting any straight answers from him end.
“Carmine, just tell us where your man was told to take her. He must’ve met with Julio, Alejandro, or one of their men for the hand-off,” I say.
His face is getting paler by the second as his life quickly flows out of him in a river of red.
“Pier fourteen, east docks. Please,” he begs.
Jax is already on his phone, pulling up all information he can find.
“Thank you,” Levine calmly states and nods to Liam.
Liam retrieves a scalpel from a case he takes out of his pocket. He hasn’t spoken a word for two days. I thought Jax was a scary motherfucker, but I’ve heard the rumors about Liam. The shit he’s done. I watch with envy as Liam goes to town, carving Carmine up while he’s still conscious, and loving every damn minute of hearing the old man scream.
Chapter 29
I come to quickly and with a gasp. Like having a bucket of ice water dropped over you when you’re fast asleep. My brain is foggy and sluggish as if my senses are covered in thick molasses. Why am I conjuring analogies that remind me of the guys? Keane dumped a bucket of water over me at the cabin right before my first initiation test, and Rafe remembered that I liked molasses with my biscuits when we were in the kitchen making breakfast.
My memories of the guys suddenly get replaced with scenes from the crash. My screams. Liam shouting my name. Someone railed us off the road on purpose. I’d reached for Liam as the SUV went topsy-turvy. My head had smashed into the passenger side window. I remember how bad it hurt, and then everything went black.
Bringing my hand to the side of my head, I wince when I touch the huge goose egg there. Fucking great. The last one just healed and now I have another almost in the same, exact spot. Wait.
“Liam.” My voice comes out as a scratchy whisper. “Liam, are you okay?”
