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Max
A few minutes later, we pull into the back parking lot of an abandoned factory. It’s only a couple of blocks away from the building where the girls are being held, based on what Rocco found out from Nico in a text. My tires screech to a halt and as soon as I shut off the engine, I fling open the door and jump to the ground. I pop open my Dad’s door. “Stay here,” I say. “Let me handle this.”
“I’m part of the team, right? I’m coming in,” Dad says, struggling to get out of the car.
“Dad, listen,” I say, my voice low. “We both know you’re in bad shape. You didn’t want to go to the hospital, which I think is a stupid fucking decision, but hey. It’s your call. At least rest when you can. There’s no need for you to go inside and deal with—”
Dad puts his hand up. “Stop. We both know why I didn’t go to the hospital. Why should I spend my last days being poked, prodded, and X-rayed? They did a lot of damage, yeah, but it’s not going to matter. I can still move and breathe.” He grins. “Kind of. And I’m not going to leave you hanging out to dry on your own, not when I put you in this situation in the first place.”
What started as a tiny lump in my throat has grown to the size of a golf ball in milliseconds. Why the hell couldn’t we have had this whole ‘come to Jesus’ thing years ago? So that instead of standing around in a parking lot lamenting about my father’s numbered days, we could be enjoying them? And not worrying about our enemies killing us and the people we love?
I fist my hair and nod. “Okay,” I finally say. “Let’s go.”
My dad hobbles next to me, but refuses my arm. He’s not about to go in front of Nico looking like a broken-down cripple who can’t stand on his own two feet. He always puts on a show, no matter what the circumstances. He’d never show fear, and he doesn’t intimidate easily.
Even with the knowledge that his time is running out, and if he doesn’t keel over from internal bleeding, someone’s gonna put a bullet in his brain.
Neither are great options.
Rocco is ahead of us, scouting the area for any signs of movement. He creeps toward the entrance, almost completely hidden by overgrown bushes, waving us on. I stick close to my father, just in case. Somebody is watching.
Somebody is always watching.
But the million-dollar question is are they gonna act?
I pull out my phone again and stare at the screen. Still no response from Tommy. I pull my jacket tighter, trying to ignore the fact that someone may have found him texting me and iced him. He’s my only link to Sloane right now, and if he’d just text me something…anything…to let me know she’s okay…
I swallow hard as we follow Rocco into the dank, dark interior. It stinks of mold and mildew, and we haven’t been inside for longer than thirty seconds before I see rats the size of puppies scurry all over the rotted floor.
One of Nico’s club security guys, Ray, nods at us. He’s about six-six, three twenty. So massive he almost doesn’t need to use the guns hooked around his waist. “They’re around the corner,” he grunts.
We walk into a dimly lit room where Nico is standing in the middle of a group of guys — some of the guys from the construction site who work for me and have arrest records a mile long and some guards from the club. I furrow my brow, eyeing the lineup. This is more than our usual crew, and he’s never used club security before for an ambush like this. There is a small arsenal arranged on the floor, and Nico is holding three different phones in his hand, waving them around as he instructs the group. He stops talking once we approach and points at my father. The guys fall into separate lines on either side of him, parting like he’s the Dead fucking Sea.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the guy who caused this shit show in the first place. What the hell are you doing here?” He inches toward my dad, his lips pressed tight together. He nods at the group of guys behind him and points to the door. “Leave us for a minute and get ready to move.” he says, his glare laser-focused on my father’s face. “I’m waiting, and time is short, Tony. For both of us.”
My dad stands as straight as he can, still holding on to his side as inconspicuously as he can without arousing suspicion. The man could be bleeding out his eyes and still charge an enemy like a ferocious bull. “I came because—”
“Because you really wanna fucking decimate this family?” Nico grits his teeth, interrupting him. “After everything my father and my grandfather did for you! You’re an ungrateful sonofabitch, Tony, and Bonnarro should have left your ass to rot in that fucking concrete block!”
Dad doesn’t respond, but his gaze never wavers. “I made a mistake.”
“Just one?” Nico sneers. “That’s supposed to be a joke right? Tell me, does your betrayal not count because my dad’s still alive?”
“It wasn’t supposed to happen that way.” My dad shifts his weight. I can tell standing up is causing him some major discomfort, but I hang back and say nothing. “That hit on your father was never part of the plan.”
Nico circles him like a ravenous lion eyeing his dinner. “Yeah, I get it. Dealing with mobsters can be so unpredictable sometimes, right?” He stops about an inch from my father’s face and screams at him. “You betrayed us all! Including your own family! Shaye, Max, Lina — you fucked them all, Tony! And you think being here right now fixes all of the shit you’ve pulled? Hell fucking no! This doesn’t change a goddamned thing, Tony. You went against the family. I don’t care about the reasons why — desperation, jealousy, revenge…whatever the hell. None of it matters. And you’re gonna pay.”
“Nico!” I hiss, pressing my fingertips to my temples. “They fucking have Sloane! Can we focus on getting her the hell out of there and save the ass ramming for later?”
Nico turns his icy gaze in my direction. “Oh, so now you’re going to trust me? It’s about fucking time. You know, I don’t stand around and make grandiose fucking plans just to hear myself speak, dammit! You need to start trusting me, Max. You want to get out of that dead-end job? You want something bigger and better? Something that’ll give you a future? Stand the fuck down unless I tell you otherwise!”
I clench my fists, trying to grasp some sliver of control when all I want to do is pound the ever-loving fuck out of my best friend. “Do you remember how you felt when Frank Cappodamo kidnapped Shaye?” I hiss. “I don’t recall you sitting your ass down to come up with a grand plan for how we were gonna get her back. You called, and I came running, no questions asked. And we stormed the place like we owned it. Rocco shot himself as a diversion, for fuck’s sake! Why is this different? Why aren’t we over there now, taking those bastards down? Because you’re not fucking Sloane? Is that the reason?”
Dad lets out a low groan, but I don’t care. I know I took things too far, but no shocker there. It’s what I do. It’s my MO. And I’m tired of following orders, sick of being the peon. Let Nico shoot me if he doesn’t want to hear the truth.
I narrow my eyes. “You know what? I don’t give a fuck why you’re sitting around on your ass, thinking about how to save them. I’m gonna go in there and do it!”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Nico snarls, gripping my arm.
