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“Seeing that you’re at my woman’s house, I would say it is my business.” At the mention of Charlotte being mine, they seem taken aback.
Henchman number two decides to speak. “We got business with your woman and her father. The boss wants to see her.”
“She hasn’t seen her father in years. That man has got no business even talking to her. He showed up a couple of days ago, and she wanted nothing to do with him,” I tell them. Maybe these guys will back off if they know the situation. Then again, probably not. They take orders and aren’t paid to think. In the meantime, I stall for as long as I can.
“She can tell the boss that herself,” henchman one decides.
“I’m not letting you take my woman.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“Last time, man. I have a job to do,” goon two warns.
That’s when Saint and Risk sneak in and point guns by the side of each man’s head. “I’d say you better lower your weapons.” Saint’s deep voice comes through the darkness.
The two men refuse to lower their weapons at first, then slowly drop their arms to their sides. We’ve got a couple of ways of dealing with this situation. One is to carve them up in pieces and bury the bodies for even thinking about kidnapping Charlotte. The other is sending them back with a message.
“I don’t want Charli to wake up and see this,” I tell the guys. They walk the interlopers around to the alley, just as Hammer and Thunder show up.
“Got here too late for the fun.” Hammer smirks as he walks past one of the kidnappers and straight toward me. “What’s going on?”
“Not sure yet.” I’m caught between wanting to stay and guard Charlotte and Noah myself and getting the answers I need from those men.
“We got this,” Thunder says in a low rumble, seeing my apprehension about leaving. “She’s our baby sister, man. She’s safe. You go do what you gotta do to keep her that way.”
“Thanks,” I murmur. I look from Hammer to Thunder before I make my way over to Saint and Risk.
Risk jerks his head toward the mechanic shop. It’s the closest place, and I’m already impatient and wanting answers.
* * *
On the way over,I call Guard. He isn’t too impressed that this is the second time I’ve gotten him up in the middle of the night.
“Fuck, Emmet! Can shit not happen at a decent hour of the day?” he vents in an angry whisper, probably not wanting to wake Ava.
“I wish,” I grumble, then say, “I haven’t been to bed yet. And to add to the clusterfuck of activity from Paul Venti, I think he’s in in hot water, and these two were sent to send a message to her father and to kidnap Charlotte.”
“Jesus,” Guard grunts, and I can hear him pulling on his boots. “Mob?”
“Maybe. We caught them and have them sitting in the shop. It was closest, and the bay was empty.”
“Keep an eye on them, but no swinging of fists.” He pauses, then adds, “Yet.” He waits for a beat and says, “Call Risk. Tell him to get down there.”
“He’s here. So is Saint. They showed up when I texted them. I needed backup fast. Thunder and Hammer were on their way, but I knew they wouldn’t get here in time. These guys were making their move.”
“Right. Then tell Risk to make a call to his buddy Reno. We might need a little help with who these guys are associated with,” he says. “Be there in fifteen.”
“Sorry, I had to call.” I am sorry. Guard never delays in getting to us when any of us call, but we’ve had some heavy situations happening lately that take him away from the family we all know he holds precious.
“It’s all good. Brothers stand together,” he replies and hangs up.
Less than an hour later, War, Orion, Ghost, and Guard are all in attendance. I gave Risk the message from Guard earlier, and he made his call. Reno and Risk have a connection that none of the others have with Reno and his family. He’s the head ofNostra Casa,a very dangerous Mafia family, and unforgiving when crossed.
Yet, Risk was the man who gave him back his brothers, and this is something that will never be forgotten. Risk raised Sebastian and Dante as his own brothers when they were living on the streets. It’s been said that one of the twins was reluctant to leave us. They come back every so often. It’s all hush-hush, no one wanting to draw attention to the friendship they have, but at times like this, we know we have an ally. It goes both ways. Some time ago, when Sebastian’s wife-to-be was taken and was being shipped off to be sold as a sex slave, it was Satan’s Pride that stepped in to get her back and take down the traitor involved.
We finally get the names out of the two men we have sitting in the center of the room. They haven’t been talkative, but they’re dumb enough to leave their wallets on them. Mariano Cripo and Iano Sapore are not as old as I suspected. Under the lights of the garage, I can see they’re young, about my age. Mariano is a heftier, bigger-built guy with light brown hair and brown eyes. By the way the beads of sweat are forming on his brow, he knows he’s screwed, but he’s putting on a brave front. Iano is leaner, with darker hair and eyes, and he’s planning on an escape. His eyes keep shifting around the room like a caged animal trying to figure out how to make a run for it.
Here we are with two inexperienced kidnappers, and someone sent them here on a suicide mission.
Guard takes one look at these guys and blows out a heavy breath, scratching his head. I’ve seen that expression before. It’s the “What the hell do I do with these two punks?” look. Guard glances over to me and grunts, “Names.”
