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“That’s not what your ma said last night when I shagged her,” one of them said, proving my point. Shagged her. Fuck, Graham was not going to be satisfied until he migrated the whole fucking Ireland to the US.
“Shut the fuck up, Stiles,” the one in charge snapped.
“This is Sinclair, my cousin from Ireland.” Graham nodded at the only one who looked old enough to wipe his own ass. He was inked to the max and looked like a badass, especially in comparison to the rest of them. “And all of these men…are Savages. The rest doesn’t matter.”
The Backstreet Boys went back to loading their weapons and packing their shit into the vehicles. Graham wasn’t kidding when he said he’d brought ammo. I was never involved enough to realize how much weaponry the guy had. From Molotov Cocktails to Glocks, Remingtons, and Colts, they had every single type of firearm they could get their hands on. Everything was neatly arranged across long black sheets.
“How do you know where they are? Do we know for sure the Lucky Lucianos have them?” I knew it was wishful thinking, but I was in denial. I needed Jade to be okay.
“I got home late to find my front door wide the fuck open and a note that read, ‘You took something of ours. Now we have something of yours.’ It had to be them. They’re retaliating because we stole the shipping containers.”
Graham’s jaw clenched so hard that I thought his teeth would shatter right then. I knew he was blaming himself for not protecting Dahlia and the babies. Just like I was blaming myself for not getting Jade home safely myself. Fuck, if I hadn’t been such a drunk bastard, she would’ve been at my place right now. In my bed, where she belonged. And I’d be inside her, where I fucking belonged.
“It doesn’t make any sense. What does Jade have to do with any of this?” I did the fighting. I didn’t typically get involved in the business. Besides that, almost no one knew about Jade and me.
Everyone was finished loading up and jumped into the SUVs. I went with Graham, and Carter and Sinclair drove the others. Graham looked over at me quizzically, as if trying to decide whether or not to tell me something.
“Spit it the fuck out, G. Don’t keep shit from me right now.” I had no patience for this. We didn’t have time for this.
Graham sped away, leading the others. His hands clenching and unclenching the steering wheel.
“When I tell you this, you are not going to lose your goddamn mind and go in there with guns blazing. You will not lose your cool. And you will not put my girls or yours in danger by doing so. Understand? Jade is not the only one on the line here.”
“I’m only going to lose my shit if you don’t fucking tell me what’s going on!” I spat at him, feeling more out of control than I had before. Not even the biggest fights with the worst competitors had me this worked up. In the ring, I was calm and collected. But when it came to Jade? I was feeling borderline psychotic.
“I had Carter do some digging tonight. Lucky’s too careful to do this shit himself. He had his right-hand man take care of it.”
“And?” I growled impatiently. I was going to knock his fucking head off his shoulders.
Graham huffed out an exasperated breath, like he was already regretting telling me.
“Turns out that man is Stefano Ricci. Name sound familiar at all?” He glanced over at me out of the corner of his eye, gauging my reaction.
“No. Should it?”
“Apparently, at some point, he was with Jade. Carter found out where he lived. Broke into his place and found pictures. A lot of them. Some of them together, some of Jade, seemingly unaware that he was photographing her, ones of her sleeping…nude photos.”
Motherfucker! Jade never mentioned him. Not fucking once. I rolled my neck and shoulders, breathing deeply. I needed out of this fucking car. I needed to hurt. Maim. Kill.
“There’s more…” Graham hesitated. He never hesitated. Whatever it was, it had to be bad.
“Carter found a girl in his bed, an escort, he thinks. She had a black wig on and looked a hell of a lot like Jade. She wasn’t breathing. Strangled from the looks of it. Sick fuck.”
I let out a growl and punched the dashboard, and the helpless feeling threatened to swallow me whole.
“Anyway,” Graham finished, his jaw so tense I thought he was going to shoot lava from his eyes. “That’s how we found where they took them. Stefano is a sloppy sonofabitch. He left clues everywhere around his house, including the address where they hide the stolen goods from the ship containers. I’m ninety-nine percent sure they’re there.”
“I’m going to kill this bastard, and he is going to die a slow, painful death.”
He didn’t say another word, just continued weaving in and out of traffic. Finally, we pulled up to a seedy ass abandoned warehouse in the Bronx. I threw my door open and had to stop myself from rushing the door to the building. Graham was right. My reckless behavior would only hurt Jade, Dahl, and the kids. We needed a plan.
Everyone else piled out of their vehicles and gathered around, waiting for instructions.
“How the feck do we know they’re here?” Sinclair asked. This place looked totally deserted, which I guess was the perfect location to hide people.
Graham nodded in Carter’s direction, and Carter shrugged.
“I’m good at finding people.”
