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Everyone on The Rooftop is talking. Strategizing. Reminiscing even. But I can only focus on Rowan. I can’t even fake a conversation or pretend I’m listening. It’s best if I remove myself from the group and stand at the edge of the roof by myself. Not to mention that I’m so on edge, there’s a high chance I could rip someone’s head off if they say the wrong thing or rub me the wrong way.
I can still smell Rowan on my clothes. I can still picture her naked beneath my body in my mind. I can still feel the way she seems to raise me up from the dark depths of an existence I hadn’t even realized I’d been living in. She’s still here with me, and yet so far away.
“We’ll get her back, man,” Atlas says to me as he hands me a crystal tumbler of booze. I wasn’t even aware he walked up behind me.
It’s obvious there is no secret in the fact that this entire mission is about Rowan to me and to Dex. The other men want revenge for the warehouse or for their own personal reasons, but mine is all over a woman. The old me—the me before Rowan—would never enter a room with guns blazing over a chick. Never. I’d be the man up here trying to talk everyone out of being so rash over someone we barely know. But the new me… the new me is seeing blood red for what they are no doubt doing to her.
“I’m sorry about the warehouse,” I say, trying to focus on the present and the man beside me. “I owe you, and I don’t say those words lightly.”
Atlas gives a slight nod. “I don’t blame you or Dex, but I don’t mind having you owe me. The last few days, I’ve heard the chatter about you and all the favors that are owed to you. You are quite the man, my friend.” He takes a big swallow of his drink. “Though I don’t feel you owe me a thing, I’ll still take you up on that. I like knowing I have you in my corner if in need. I’m making a mental note of it.”
“Dex says you have a lot of new enemies over the destroyed paintings.”
He nods again and his jaw tightens. “You could say that.” His slight English accent coming through.
“Well, you can count on me to help handle any situations that arise. I won’t forget what you’re doing tonight,” I promise.
Atlas raises his glass to toast me, reminding me that I have my own glass in hand. I’m never one to drink when I need to keep my head clear and in the game, but I swallow back a large gulp to try to calm my raging nerves. I’m going to be zero help in this mission if I can’t chill the fuck out. But this has gotten too personal, and I know it.
Should I step back and let the other men who are gathered on The Rooftop handle it? My father would say yes. A week ago, I would have said yes, too. But no fucking way would I listen now. I will save Rowan or die trying. I will walk through the door of the Lucianos with guns blazing. Never again will someone mess with me and the woman I lo—
“We just got confirmation that the Lucianos and Rowan are in Long Island,” Dex announces loudly to all the men waiting for their marching orders. “They’re in Vincent’s compound as we suspected.”
“Is Rowan alive?” I ask, turning fully to face Dex.
He nods. “Our men on the inside there say she is.”
“Then we need to go now!” I command everyone who is willing and ready.
“How many men are guarding it?” Atlas asks Dex, his tone and demeanor calm—a far cry from mine.
“We have four spies at the entrance. It shouldn’t be too difficult for us to get inside,” Dex says, looking around at the twenty or so men ready for battle. “I think we can do this with no bloodshed on our side. The four men are going to do the killing as we approach. The goons on the perimeter won’t see it coming.”
“And can we trust these men?” Nicco Spalleri—a gun trader— asks.
“They were easy to pay off,” Dex answers. “Frankly, I don’t think they’re stupid enough to cross us. They know what side is going to come out the victor, and they are choosing wisely. Luciano isn’t a man worth dying for.”
Dex approaches me as Atlas leaves us alone. I can see the worry on my closest friend’s face, and I don’t appreciate it.
“I don’t need to be coddled,” I warn, taking one more tiny sip of the drink before placing it down on a table.
“I need to know if your head is in the game,” Dex says. “And I’m not coddling you, fucker,” he adds with a slight lift of his lip. “If this were Katja inside that compound, I’d be a disaster and you’d be questioning me too.”
