“How did they gain entry?”
“Still working on figuring that out, boss. Don’t know if Giuseppe took a bribe or if he needs glasses.”
Impatiently, I motioned at him to open the doors.
Reality was better than the carnage my imagination cooked up.
To the throbbing beat that hammered my synapses, I scanned the scene and accepted that Chad’s decision in shutting off the section had been a good call.
No, twelve menweren’troaming around, instead they lay face down on the floor with guns pointed at their backs.
Had to assume that was the only thing keeping them contained when I saw a stack of weapons my men had confiscated over in the farthest corner of the VIP area—fucking battalions of soldiers came armed with fewer guns than these bastards when they sacked a town!
Assuming Chad had taken control of the head honcho, I shouted at him over some horrific techno music, “This the lead?”
“Unknown. But hewasthe main instigator.”
“Made men?”
“Think so, boss. You know they’ve been spreading out since that mess in Kentucky. They’ve always had gangs pocketed around the States, but it’s like they’ve consolidated or something,” he complained.
The Irish had insisted on an escort today because of said mess in the Bluegrass State. Everyone was trigger-fucking-happy thanks to these insane cunts who had no respect for demarcated turf lines and who, for whatever fucking reason, had decided now was their time to shine.
I had no problem with Albanians. Had visited the country once or twice and some areas were gorgeous, but the gangs in the US—Rory thoughtIwas feral? Ha!
Only the desperate touched Albanian coke because they laced it with fentanyl. Seeing as they used their own product, it turned them into goddamn animals.
But Chad had a point—I’d started to suspect the gangs had become an outright mob. Considering we’d forged a similar path to power, we were perfectly placed to recognize the signs.
The Albanians now had a centralized power figure.
The other factions could argue until they were blue in the face about it, but my gut told me otherwise.
Rather than scream over the music, I stamped my boot between the shoulders of the fucker I thought was the leader here. His scream combined with the crunch I felt under my heel had him bucking beneath my foot before sagging as I kicked him over.
From here, I could see he was high.
Because time = money and every second we had the VIP section cordoned off, we were losing bank, I asked Chad, “Are the rooms out back occupied?”
“Yeah. Got that money lender on the take in one and a bunch of gangbangers behind the drive-by on that bookie’s office in the rest.”
I did some quick mental arithmetic on the warehouses closest to us that would contain fourteen of these fuckers.
“Okay. Hog-tie and transport them to warehouse five.”
He nodded but flicked a glance at Luigi, who spread out, looping each of the men into my instructions.
I cast a withering eye over the group, watching for dissent.
One Albanian lifted his head and scanned the scene, but it was the faintest twitch of his lips that had me zeroing in on him.
I didn’t know if that minute smile was drug-induced euphoria or a smug smirk. Either way, I smelled a rat.
On edge, I headed his way. He caught my eye a second too late and shoved his forehead into the floor.
Pressing my heel into his skull, I took a moment to savor his scream, then I stomped down hard until he passed out.
Shifting tracks, I clicked my fingers at Luigi, who raced over to me. “Change of plan. Don’t take them to the warehouse.”
