Chapter 30

30

"No Service"

Heaving a sigh, I slip my phone back into my pocket and kick an ankle up to rest on the opposite knee.

Even at forty-thousand feet in the air, I keep checking it, willing a message from Wren to come through. I've had the barrel of a gun pressed to my temple more times than I can count but I've never felt as powerless as I did hearing an explosion on my call with Wren.

The meeting with Volkov and his second went great. I paid a fee, we severed ties on the drugs, and left on good terms for any future business opportunities. After more drinks, Rocco and I finally decided to head back to the hotel so we could leave bright and early. Knowing how my old man's been toward Wren and how strong my Ma can come across, I called her on the drive to check in.The way her voice cracked when she said my name, dejection coating her words, sobered me up real quick.

Rocco couldn't get ahold of my dad, so I don't know what the fuck is happening and why he's claiming Wren is Frankie's daughter. My throat bobs with a harsh swallow. I don't know what sort of sick joke the world thinks it's playing on me by making the daughter of my first kill the mother of my child, but I'm not laughing.

"Pilot says we're about twenty minutes out," Rocco says, taking up the large white leather seat across from mine.

"I want Dallas and Rhodes to meet us in Northbrook, everyone else needs to be on high alert and ready." My fingers stroke idly over the outline of my phone in my slacks. "And then call O'Ryan, if he's not on scene he needs to be."

"Got it," Rocco nods, fingers dipping into his collar and curling around his chain.

As uneasy as I feel, I know the fact there was an explosion near my parents is hitting Rocco twice as hard. My dad's the closest thing he's had to a father since he lost his own.

"Whatever's happened, we'll handle it. I'm here for you, cousin."

"I know," Rocco replies.

We sit in silence, the uncertainty of what's waiting for us when we land hanging heavy in the air as we stare out the windows. I can't let this push Wren away. I know I said before I'd let her go if that's what she wanted, but that was a goddamn lie. She's fucking mine, and the only place I'll ever let her be is by my side or beneath me. I can't change the past, but I can damn well make sure she's my future. I blow out a sigh and lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees and cradling my head in my hands.

"She loves you," Rocco assures.

"I know... but it might not be enough."

"You don't look at someone the way Wren looks at you and just walk away without even a discussion. Give her some credit, Bowie, she's taken to your lifestyle pretty easily, and it's not like you or anyone else knew for that matter."

He's right. Well, at least I hope he is. My old man always had a soft spot for kids, and if he'd known Frankie had one in that compound, things would have gone down differently.

I'm practically crawling out of my skin as the city lights come into view and we start our descent. The sooner I lay eyes on Wren and my parents and make sure they're okay, the sooner Wren and I can unpack her lineage.

"Cazzo, my phone's dead," Rocco murmurs at the first bounce of the tires touching the tarmac.

"Use mine, I'll drive," I say, pulling mine from my pocket, the ‘searching for signal' message illuminating the top corner as the jet starts to brake.

Rocco has the phone pressed to his ear as we disembark, barking orders to our men as we hurry to my Escalade. Sliding into the driver seat, I buckle my seat belt and crank the engine to life. The tires squeal against the pavement as I mash the gas pedal to the floor and peel away from the hangar. Nothing can get me to Wren fast enough, but I'll damn sure try. I just need to see her, to know she's okay.

Adrenaline courses through my veins as I maneuver through the streets, taking any shortcut I can find to cut down the thirty-minute drive.

"Dallas and Rhodes are on their way. O'Ryan's there too; said he'll meet us at the barricade."

"Good. Any word from my dad or Wren?" I ask, flexing my fingers on the steering wheel.

"You've got a voicemail from Wren, still trying your dad."

It's not as good as seeing her, but it offers a temporary relief from the pressure in my chest. My knuckles whiten when I whip the Escalade down a side street toward my parent's neighborhood and I can see the smoke billowing up.

"Christ," Rocco mutters as I turn down their street.

No, it can't be.

My throat constricts, stomach twisting painfully as I see just what house the firetrucks and police cruisers are in front of. Shifting the SUV into park, I rip off my seat belt and throw open the door. My feet pound the concrete as I storm towards the closed-off scene. "Where is she?"

O'Ryan's head snaps in my direction. He starts toward me, a worried look etched in his features.

"What happened?" I demand.

"Bowie, I need you to take a breath."

"Fuck off, Doyle," I spit. "Where's Wren? Where are my parents?"

He presses a hand to my chest, lowering his voice and tipping his head. "Let's talk over there."

The muscle in my jaw tightens as Rocco and I follow him away from the crowd gathered in the street. He stops by the hood of his sedan, lips pressing into a thin line as he eyes us both warily. Rocco taps my shoulder, hooking a thumb behind him and turning to where Dallas' Range Rover is pulling up.

"I swear Doyle, if you don't start fucking talking-"

He scrubs a hand down his face. "A delivery truck drove into the front of your parent's house. It was rigged to explode on impact. Luckily, whoever wired it didn't know what they were doing. It only partially went off. Damage is mainly to the front of the house and the garage. Crew's still trying to get in there." Shifting on his feet, he lets out a sigh. "I hate to ask this, but do you know anyone who would want to do this?"

What a stupid question.

Being head of an outfit, you're bound to make some enemies along the way. My father made his in his day, and I've made a few of my own since taking the mantle. They always get dealt with though, they either fall in line or from the face of the Earth. The chatter amongst the smaller families has been dying down, but news of Wren's pregnancy is quickly making its way through the chains of gossip. Sure, some families might bitch and moan from time to time, but none would ever do something like this. I can't think of any lowlife stupid enough to go for my family's home, except… fucking Belluci.

"Bowie," Rocco drawls, pacing toward us, lowering my phone from his ear. "You have to listen to this."

O'Ryan shoots me a nervous glance. "I'll check in with the crews again and see if they've found anything." I know what he means, but I refuse to give more thought to his words as I watch him dip beneath the yellow crime scene tape and disappear behind a firetruck.

I card a hand through my hair, turning toward Rocco as he holds out my phone. Taking it from him, I see Wren's name on the screen with a voicemail queued up. The fallacy of relief I first felt from the voicemail is long gone, my stomach knotting as I hit play and switch it to speakerphone.

Static and a few loud noises akin to slamming doors fill the line like it was a pocket dial instead of a purposeful call. I grind my molars, eyeing him with discontent as it continues on the same. Just as I'm about to ask what the fucking point of this is, a male voice asks, "Where are we taking her?"

"There's a warehouse off Root Street in Canaryville, back by the tracks." The unmistakable and arrogant lilt of Belluci answers the first guy.

My fingers curl around the phone with crushing force as the knot in my stomach binds tighter, driving the air from my lungs as he continues.

"Bowie may have evened the field with the warehouse, but he had no right to go for my girls. You take what's mine, I'll take what's yours."