“Are they going to Maxsim’s location?” I ask, unsure why I care but too curious to act nonchalant.
“Yeah,” Smith replies casually before instructing me to turn left. I’d drill him for more information, but his next set of words keep my focus on the task at hand. “India has stopped at an industrial property half a mile up. Dim your lights.”
It takes me a few seconds to work out how to do that. The Range Rover’s headlights are automatic, and the sun has now set.
It dawns on me that Smith can see what I’m seeing when he mutters, “Now creep up a quarter of a mile before walking the last quarter,” only a nanosecond after I switch off the headlights.
With a chuckle, Rocco says, “Look up and smile, big boy. The artificial intelligence they advertise to sell this pricy ride is what fucked society. Why do you think I love old-school cars? No automatic shutdowns, no sneaky pricks listening in on my private conversations, and my girl can suck my dick while I’m driving, and I don’t have to worry about some sick fuck stroking his cock to her gagging on my schlong.” Through the personal assistant bot mounted under the rearview mirror of the Range Rover, he sees me roll my eyes. “Don’t be jealous, Ox. If you play your cards right, even I’d be tempted to suck your dick tonight.”
I usually find crude humor entertaining, but now I understand Demi’s frustration when I used it to deflect my anguish. It’s frustrating not knowing what someone is thinking in general, much less in a dire life or death situation.
Rocco is still chuckling in my ear when I pull up a couple of blocks from the stationary orange dot on the dashboard of the Range Rover. After slipping my cell phone into my pocket, I toss open the door, then slide out, only curling back in to gather up the AK-47 and a cap. My looks have changed a lot in the past five years, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.
If India recognizes me, my plan will go to shit before it’s even activated.
After I’ve lowered a cap to shadow my eyes, Smith’s voice breaks through the silence teeming around me. He doesn’t break out a comedy skit to deflect his nerves. He keeps things strictly professional. “The satellite imagery is poor due to a bad sensory angle, but I’m reasonably sure India is the sole occupant of the premises.” He clicks a handful of times on his mouse before the hiss of a vacuum-sealed lock unlatching rustles through the dead quiet night. “The quickest access to the main hub of the property is via an industrial freezer on the right of the driveway. It should be coming up on your left shortly.”
Although the freezer Smith referenced is the same size as the one at Petretti’s, it doesn’t take me long to realize it isn’t used for the storing of food. There are two bodies, a handful of body parts, and buckets I’m not willing to look into to douse my curiosity.
This time around, the cat can die on his scratching post. I learned from the errors of my past. I won’t make the same mistake twice.
“Which way?” I ask Smith when my trek through the freezer sees me confronted with a T intersection. Light isn’t projecting either way, so I have no clue if I should go left or right.
Smith mutters, “Left,” just as I’m blinded by a massive spotlight.
“Yippee-Ki-Yay, motherfucker. It’s about time you showed up,” Rocco greets before he turns on a fire hydrant full pelt to drench me from head to toe, drowning out Agent Machini’s warning that I’m walking into a trap.
39
Maddox
Idon’t miss Rocco’s faint grin when I wiggle a finger in my ear to loosen the clump of water stuck in there. He’s standing behind the monitor Dimitri’s white face is filling, as dry as a fucking desert. I can’t say the same. I’m so drenched, I left a puddle in my wake with every step I took down a recently burrowed mine shaft.
Trey’s wife, Kristina, or affectionally known as ‘K’ to people in this industry, wasn’t kidnapped by India or Maxsim. She was placed in ‘a temporary restrictive hold’ by Rocco and Smith.
Yes, that is how Rocco justified his first foray into a violence-against-women campaign. He’s doing it for K’s greater good. Unfortunately, I can’t call him out on it. From what Dimitri, Smith, and Rocco have told me over the past hour, if they hadn’t intervened, K would be on a shipping container along with Dimitri and his family as we speak.
India is so fucking desperate for an English heir, she’s willing to take one who doesn’t belong to her, but since K isn’t as far along as Audrey was when India forced her to continue with their surrogacy plans as drafted, India was left with no option but to take K with her while relocating abroad.
Since she had to keep her plans of a British heir from Maxsim, she branched out to secure K through the same channels Vladimir used when he auctioned my sister. It took weeks of negotiations to reach this point, but the collection for K was organized for later today.
That’s where I come in.
India knows Smith and Rocco. She interacted with them multiple times while endeavoring to sink her nails into the Italian Cartel. Although we’ve met in passing twice, once at the warehouse where I found the empty canister of misoprostol and the second time when she stood next to Col while Justine was being mauled, Dimitri isn’t worried that she will recognize me. Since most of my free time in prison was spent in the yard, I bulked up. The sun faded the freckles I’m infamous for and added a heap of blond streaks to my usually reddish hair. When you tack those aspects onto the new stencils Tails added to my body three days ago, I still look like a Walsh, just one from the other side of the pond.
Dimitri could have hired any man for this job. Criminals would come out of the woods to be in his favor, but he knows this is as personal for me as it is for him. He got his daughter back. His son was heard in the background when we were speaking. I can’t achieve the same outcome as him. India stripped me of the chance. She not only killed my unborn baby, but she also encouraged Col to punish Justine outside the extent of her so-called disrespect.
I couldn’t come back from Justine’s mauling. No matter what I did or how hard I tried to pretend I was okay, it fucked with my head so much, I made stupid mistake after stupid mistake. It was that recklessness that ended Demi’s life. It was what ultimately took her away from me, so it’s only fair India is prosecuted accordingly by me.
“All right, I’ll do it.” The casualness of my reply doesn’t weaken its impact. Rocco slaps my back while Smith gets to work on finalizing details with India. All correspondence with her has been done through the dark web. We technically don’t know it’s her. The only time her identity will be proven is when she arrives here to collect K.
Rocco stops slapping my back mid-hit when Dimitri asks, “On what condition?” When I arch a brow, shocked at his ability to read me, a rare smile tugs one side of his lips higher. “You didn’t gain Col’s eyes just because you could fight, Ox. A gangbanger knows a gangbanger.”
I brush off his claims I’m anything like him with a huff. My time at Wallens Ridge indicates I could make a killing in his industry if money was what my heart desired. Unfortunately, it isn’t. Who it wants no longer exists, and neither will India by the end of today.
I cough to clear my throat of unwarranted nerves before stating my terms. “The women India is carting from country to country. I want them freed and returned to their families.”
“It isn’t as easy as it sounds.” Dimitri’s reply is for me, but his eyes are for someone he’s peering at over his laptop screen. “Some of the women were sold when they were children. They don’t even know their real names.”
