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Luka
Patrick must have kept his mouth shut because the Irish are wholly unprepared for our ambush. The soldiers charge in first, taking out the few measly guards stationed around the abandoned warehouse. As soon as they are gone, I follow inside.
There is return fire, but it is embarrassingly small. My guess is that because they weren’t expecting an attack; most of the men weren’t armed. Which means they are just hiding inside behind barriers, hoping we leave. We don’t.
When the return fire dwindles down to only two or three guys shooting back at my twenty, I call off my men and shout a deal into the air.
“We’ll cease fire if you bring me Cole Morrison.”
My words are met with silence for ten long seconds before I hear hushed arguing, and then, a few minutes later, lone footsteps. I chance a look over the crate I’m standing behind, and see one man stepping forward into the center of the warehouse. His arms are above his head.
“Announce yourself,” Gabriel yells from beside me.
The man reluctantly gives his name. “Cole Morrison.”
I nod to Gabriel and he commences rounding up the rest of the Irish and escorting them to a back room to be monitored. Then, Cole is brought to me, his hands behind his back.
He is not nearly as ugly or stupid as I’d hoped. In fact, he is kind of handsome. Tall, blonde, and muscular. I can picture him with Eve, and it fills my veins with fire.
I grab him by the arm, taking him from one of my soldiers, and lead him outside to a narrow alley between warehouses. Cole pulls out of my grip as soon as we are outside. “What the fuck do you want with me?”
I level my gun at him so he knows I’m not playing any games. “What do you know about the attack on my wedding day?”
He narrows his eyes, but he doesn’t look confused. “Nothing. Why would I know anything about that?”
“Because you were engaged to my wife.” The word settles between us like a stone, and I want to kick it straight into Cole’s teeth.
He smiles, and before he can show any of his teeth, I lower my gun and shoot his right kneecap. He screams and falls to the ground.
“Don’t grin at me, you piece of shit. Tell me what you know about the attack. Who orchestrated it? Did you do it because you were angry Eve was marrying someone else?”
He is bleeding and fetal on the ground, yet the asshole still has the nerve to laugh. “I never cared about Eve, and she definitely didn’t care about me.”
“Then why were your men there?”
He hesitates, and I aim my gun at his other knee cap. His face pales, and he spills his guts like I’ve just cut them open. “Benedetto told us about the wedding.”
“Benedetto?” I know who he is, but I want to make sure. I want to double and triple check these facts.
“Benedetto Furino,” he clarifies. “He told us about the wedding and helped us figure out the best way to get inside. We were nervous, so we only sent a few of our men in. And they weren’t our best. I guess you saw how that worked for us.”
“Still managed to kill some of our guys,” I snarl. “When did Benedetto tell you about the wedding?”
“Morning of,” he says. “We’d been planning it for a while, but he didn’t know when the wedding would be. Some kind of secret, I guess.”
My heart hammers in my chest. Eve didn’t tell them. This entire time, I assumed that if Benedetto had something to do with the attack, then Eve would have been in on it. But if he didn’t tell the Irish about the wedding until the morning of, that means Eve didn’t tell him when it was. She didn’t help him plan any of it. Relief and shame mingles inside of me, making my insides twist.
“Why?”
“Shit, I don’t know,” he says, clutching his knee and whimpering. “Benedetto said something about the ‘damn Volkovs always thinking they are one step ahead,’ but I didn’t ask questions. That all goes above my pay grade. I provide the weapons. I just know he wanted the Furinos and Irish to team up. He has wanted it for a long time. That is why Eve and I were engaged.”
“What happened?” I ask. “To the engagement? Why didn’t you go through with it?”
“Because Eve fucking disappeared,” he says, clearly still bitter about it. “Apparently, marrying me was the worst thing she could imagine, so she disappeared for two years.”
I would have thought I’d hear about it if a don’s daughter went missing for two years, but Benedetto probably didn’t make the news public record. It’s embarrassing, and the more I think about it, it is classic Eve. The thought almost makes me smile.
“When she reappeared, Benedetto came back, promising things would be different this time, but I’m not big on second chances,” Cole says, trying to look tough. Though, that is difficult considering he is covered in blood. “I guess he decided strapping her to you was better than nothing.”
