“Boss wants everything cleared out tonight.”
“What’s the rush? Why are we moving all this weight?”
“I don’t know all the details, Julian, but it’s big. Giuseppe’s on edge, said it has to be done tonight.”
Troy and I exchange a glance.Jackpot, a weakness I could exploit.
Then, a fourth voice joined in. “Where the fuck is Mario? He took the trolley out the emergency exit. Should’ve been back by now.”
My spine stiffens.Fuck, there’s another one.I registered the mistake too late. A faint scuff behind us, masked by the hum of the industrial bar fridge and the voices ahead. Troy’s focus is on the cellar, as the cold kiss of steel presses to my back.
“Don’t fucking move, or eh fill you with holes. Who the hell are youse?” Troy and I freeze. Fuck. We should’ve been more alert.
I slip instantly into the lazy drawl of a street rat. “Easy, man. Giuseppe sent us to help move the weapons.”
“Yeah,” Troy adds, hands raised. “Call Julian if you don’t believe us.”
Mario doesn’t lower his gun. “Keep them hands where I can see ’em… move… inside.” We do as we’re told, stepping into the dim cellar. I see weapons on a table and more on the ground, in crates near the racks and hidden behind barrels of aged oak, another door. Lorenzo’s hidden weapon cache. My brain fires instantly into assessment mode. The lighting is dim enough to create blind spots. Troy takes two steps to my right, now at a good angle, ready to act.There are five of Lorenzo’s dogs to put down. One blocking the doorway has a gun to our backs. The other four are in that room unloading crates. The men emerge; arms loaded with crates. One of them, a shorter guy with a scar above his lip, looks up. Recognition snaps across his face like a gunshot.
“The Púca...”
He drops the crate, scrambling for his gun. It begins…Troy reacts instantly, stumbling over a stack of liquor bottles on purpose. The crash is deafening, glass exploding across the floor, splintering like shrapnel. For half a second, all eyes flick toward the sound. That’s all the time I need. I pull out both of my guns, squeezing the trigger. A bullet rips through Julian’s eye, tearing clean through his skull and punching into the taller man’s chest behind him—a two-for-one. The second guy lets out a choked grunt before collapsing in a heap.
Mario barely has time to react before Troy lunges, knocking the gun from his hand. But the bastard doesn’t go down easy. Mario rips a blade from his belt and slashes across Troy’s arm.
“Troy,” I call out, but he’s already moving, ignoring the blood.He pulls out his gun, wrenches his arm up. He shoots Mario once in the goddamn neck. His body drops like a gutted pig.
One man is left. He stands frozen, eyes darting between his dead friends and the muzzle of my gun. “Move and you’re dead,” I growl.
“C, look out!”
Troy slams into me. Another shooter barrels out of the hidden room, firing blindly. We hit the ground hard as gunfire erupts above us. A bullet grazes my arm hot, and biting. Troy fires his gun, and bullets punch through the man’s chest. He collapses, twitching.
I climb to my feet, ignoring the burn of my wound. “Troy, you good?”
He grunts before replying. “Yeah solid.” His posture is off, and I don’t miss the wince as he gets to his feet.
“You sure?”
Troy shrugs, rolling his shoulders. “Landed bad. Glass in my hand, and that fucker sliced me deep, but I’m good.”
“Lucky for us that dumb fuck didn’t know how to handle kickback on that M15. Else we’d both be corpses. He even killed his buddy.” I move toward the open doorway and slip into the room. Lorenzo’s secret fucking treasure trove spreads before me. Barrett M82 sniper rifles gleam under the dim light.M16s stand in rows. MP5s stacked like playing cards. Ammo crates overflowing. I spot a Desert Eagle collection, its weight familiar in my grip. I pull my burner phone and send that anonymous text to the New York DA. This room alone is enough to bury Lorenzo alive, and thanks to the fire-door, it will survive the blaze. I step back into the wine cellar. Gabriel and Sebastian enter, guns raised. They take in the chaos.
Sebastian whistles low. “Shit. I thought this place was supposed to be a ghost town tonight.”
“Turns out Lorenzo had a little secret tucked away,” Troy mutters, leaning against the wall.
Gabriel peers inside and laughs. “C, this is better than fucking Christmas.” He takes quick photos. “I’ll send this to my girl at the Times. By morning, every news outlet in the city will be eating this up. Lorenzo’s reputation is getting burned before the embers are out.”
Sebastian grins. “I love it when a plan comes together.”
It’s not wise to linger. “Alright, lads, let’s ghost from this fucking place.”
Troy pushes off the wall. He groans, and my head snaps to him. He’s holding his side now. Blood is seeping through his fingers. I see a large bloodstain on the wall behind him. His face is pale, his breathing shallow and too fucking uneven. The memory of Chester breathing his last slams into me like a bullet. Not again. Not tonight. “Troy?” He waves me off, trying to shift, but his legs tremble. He isn’t okay.
“I’m fine,” he mutters through gritted teeth.
“Liar.” I exhale, controlling the emotion beginning to boil under my skin, and rush over to him and grab him before he can fall.
