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“Soph? What’s up?” Cade Quinn’s rough-as-gravel voice comes through the phone. Cade is like a brother. We grew up together, both our dads being high ranking members of a motorcycle club.
I skip the pleasantries. “Cade, if I needed you to transport someone back home for me, could you do that?”
“Home? As in our home?” He sounds incredulous. I can’t blame him. He knows how much I try to avoid that subject.
“Yes, Harmony.”
“You want to tell me what’s going on, Soph?”
“Afraid I can’t.” A girl can only be expected to break so many laws in one day, right?
He sighs. It’s an exasperated noise, but in it I can hear the sound of him caving. “All right. If you’re sure, but I’m not in Chicago until Monday. Will that do?”
Damn. “I guess that will have to. Thanks, Cade.”
There’s a brief pause, but the silence is weighted.
“Soph, are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“You know me; the girl with the solid plan,” I reply, not missing a beat.
It’s not a lie. I made a plan ten years ago to keep the people back home at arms-length. And I’ve stuck to it for the most part. Sure, doing this—asking my family instead of the police to protect my client from the mafia is going against all I’ve worked for, but I’m choosing to see it as a slight kink in the road, not a complete reversal.
I hang up the phone before Cade can say more, then shove the phone in my pocket and take a deep breath.
Now, all I have to do is convince Maria that she wants to represent the slight kink in my life’s grand plan.
This ought to be fun.
Chapter Two
Nico
Anticipation hangs like a heavy fog as I survey the night-draped scene. A dozen of my men are scattered in a tight arc thirty yards from the decrepit warehouse, their faces masked by shadows and the occasional glow of a cigarette tip.
Beside me, Leo Ricci, my righthand man, meticulously checks the magazine of his AR-15. There is a subtle tension in his shoulders, not uncommon in the adrenaline-fueled moments before a dangerous job, but for Leo, it’s a little unusual.
“We move in one,” I murmur, my voice a low rasp, barely audible over the distant hum of Chicago.
The plan is straightforward: ambush Romano’s men inside the warehouse, reclaim the consignment they intercepted and leave no room for mercy.
Leo nods, his eyes meeting mine in a fleeting glance before returning to the cold steel in his hands. “Ready when you are, Nico.”
I continue the countdown in my head, then give the signal to move.
As we approach the warehouse, the quiet, rhythmic clatter of shoes on damp pavement echoes like a dirge, building an ominous suspense. My men, draped in shadows, move with the precision of a well-trained pack. The stolen consignment, a fortune in ammunition, is the lifeblood of the Outfit, and to intercept it is an affront not easily forgotten. And never forgiven.
“Ready for this, Leo?” I ask, my voice barely more than a whisper.
Leo cuts his gaze sharply to mine, surprise etched on his features. Not only is he my best friend, he’s my best soldier. A job like this is something he does with one hand tied behind his back. I shouldn’t have had to be here today, let alone question his readiness for this. But something about the tension that has been radiating from Leo all week made me decide to come.
He nods, his eyes now reflecting the cold glint of determination I know so well. “Si. Always ready, Nico.”
We move like a unit, silent and quick, but just as we get within ten feet of the wide warehouse door, it swings open to reveal four men, armed and ready to engage.
They’re prepared. Someone tipped off Romano’s men to expect us tonight.
Fuck. There’s a mole among my men.
