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Chapter Eighteen
Maceo
Punk texts me a picture from Josephine’s phone. The image is horrific, showing Stella and Simone roughed-up and restrained. But I know exactly what drove her to escape the house to go after her family.
Luca, with his hand shoved down Simone’s shirt, squeezing her breast to the point where Simone looks like she’s screaming in pain behind her gag, was certainly the bait needed to lure Josephine away from headquarters.
Bianchi has Stella and Simone. Josephine would do anything for the people she loves, including sacrificing herself.
“Jesus,” Gauge mutters, looking at the same image on his own phone.
“I’ll kill him. I’ll kill the motherfucker!” Chase screams in the background.
“Punk, stop him from going all Hulk smash,” I order. “Tell him Luca is his, but we need video confirmation Bianchi is at the rail corridor.”
“Jo left the map with the address on her phone. She did it on purpose to give us a trail to follow,” Punk says.
Chase barks orders to his tech team. My woman was smart enough to give us her location before she took off, giving Chase the information he needs to gain live video feed. Pulling up the live feed only sends Chase into a feral rage.
“Oh, fuck. Someone stop him,” Punk shouts. A scuffle can be heard with Chase swearing at everyone to get the hell out of his way.
“What’s on the feed?” Gauge asks.
“Luca with Simone and Stella. He’s toying with Chase’s woman,” Punk answers heatedly.
“What’s going on?” a soft male voice asks.
“Get Jim out of there!” I shout.
“Oh, God! No! No, it can’t be,” Jim wails. A grown man weeping is one of the most horrific sounds imaginable—right up there with my woman crying.
“Atlas, we need a plan, stat!” Chase bellows.
“We ride. Arm yourselves to the max. We surround the building and flush them out. Shoot to kill. Butch and Ziggy stay and man the command center, update us with any changes on the feed as they happen. Have everyone wear their earpieces. We work this like any other hostage situation. Ziggy, call Detective Quire at the station. Butch, call our contacts at the FBI. Punk, send me the address. Gauge and I are heading there now. The rest of you will meet us ready for battle.”
“I’m coming,” Jim grits.
“Jim, I don’t want you in the way if a gunfight breaks out,” I say quickly.
“It’s my wife. My children,” Jim counters.
“I’ll take Jim,” Tony offers. “I’m taking the SUV since I don’t have a hog yet. I’ll make sure he stays out of the crossfires.”
“You keep him safe, Tank,” I order. I don’t need to spell it out for him—Josephine will never forgive me if anything happens to her dad.
“You have my word,” he replies.
“Good. Now let’s ride.”
