29. Ronan

Chapter 29

Ronan

R occo hates the fucking plan. He makes sure to tell me every few minutes as we ride in a truck together through the South Side, going nice and slow, stopping at every stoplight, coming to a complete halt at every stop sign. Making a real show of it.

“It’s just gonna get me killed, you know?” Rocco’s glaring at me. The old Italian Capo is too used to sitting inside of his club and keeping his neck out of danger.

“You realize I’m sitting right next to you?”

“And you’re gonna get killed too then.” Rocco shakes his head, glaring out the window. “Fucking bait. That’s what I’ve been reduced to.”

I resist the urge to explain, for the fiftieth time, that he isn’t the bait.

My fucking drugs are the bait.

That little detail doesn’t matter to a guy like Rocco. All he can see are his cars, his guys, and his ass in the seat next to me, and that means he’s the one in the fire.

He grumbles for a while, but I tune him out. I’m listening to the chatter over the radio. My guys are all in position and they keep checking in with each other to make sure everyone else is aware of their position. It’s very professional, and I feel a surge of pride. I worked hard to make these guys act serious when it comes to hits instead of like a bunch of jumped-up thugs, which they technically are. Now it’s paying off: we have a string of successful but dangerous operations under our belt, and I can’t imagine how this next one is going to go wrong.

It helps that Valentina planned it. I made sure she was nice and visible at Bloody Strike as we went over the details together. There was some grumbling, but I don’t think anyone can deny that she has a particular brilliance for coming up with these kinds of schemes.

“Lead team, check in.” I release the radio button and the static crackles.

“Lead team here, nothing to report. All quiet.” Niall’s voice sounds very calm. He’s the only person I trust to ride up front and he was willing to take the risk, but he’s in the most dangerous spot in this entire operation. I was tempted to throw Cormac up there, since if this went all wrong, losing him wouldn’t be the end of the world, but I’d rather not plan on getting my own men killed. Even if they don’t want me as their boss anymore.

“Keep your eye out. We’re in the danger zone now.” Matteo’s territory extends all through the deep southern part of Chicago, and he’s well known to hit any drug dealers stupid enough to bring product through his section of the city.

This has been in the works for a couple of weeks now. Rocco’s been loudly putting out the word that he’s got a shipment of pure cocaine coming through and ostentatiously looking for buyers. The only group willing to take on the full amount is a Chinese Dragons outfit running drugs and guns out of the southern suburbs, which means we’ll have to cross over a bunch of neighborhoods to make the deal happen.

And this particular Dragons gang owes me and my boys a bit of money, and just so happen to be willing to play along if that means it’ll erase their debt.

It’s a classic honeypot idea. I’m not sure if Matteo is aware of what we’re thinking, but there’s no way a guy like him is going to be able to resist a score like this one. My family has a reputation in the underworld for providing some of the best, most high-quality coke in the entire country, and I’m absolutely positive Matteo will kill to get his hands on a shipment of this size.

Frankly, I’m counting on it.

“Boss, this is Scout Five, we got some movement up ahead.” That’s from one of the flanking teams. They’re taking a route parallel to ours and keeping an eye on the surrounding blocks.

“What do you mean, movement?”

“It’s, like, a bunch of motorcycles, but not those loud fucking Harleys. These are like real quiet and smaller. Uh, Danny’s saying they’re electric dirt bikes.”

I curse quietly and tell them to follow close. “Lead Team, you have company coming.”

“I don’t see anything.” Niall sounds very calm for a guy who’s basically raw meat dangling over a pit filled with starving lions.

“Electric dirt bikes on their way. I’m giving them thirty seconds before they’re on you.”

“How many?”

Scout Five cuts in. “We counted ten.”

“Shit,” Niall says and there’s static. Then he adds, “All right, we’re on top of it.”

I let the radio go silent. This is what we wanted, but it’s still stressful as fuck, and I find myself stepping on the gas. Rocco looks at me with a little smirk.

“Told you it’s gonna get us all killed.”

“Shut the fuck up, please.” I blow through a stop sign and nearly sideswipe another car. The old bastard lays on his horn and flips me off, but I keep going. Niall’s a block ahead with the goods, and if there’s a fleet of electric bikes coming, that means the hit’s about to happen.

This is Matteo’s move. He’s got a solid crew of guys that ride these fast, quiet, easily maneuverable bikes through the city. They come silent, smash into their prey, take whatever they want, and are gone again in minutes. His people are fast and efficient, and this is the moment when everything might go horribly wrong.

“Niall, check in,” I call on the radio. No answer. I push the gas down further. “Niall. Niall . What’s going on?”

Still nothing. I speed down the block, and up ahead, I spot a truck stopped in the middle of the street.

It’s surrounded by men on motorcycles.

“All teams, move on,” I call over the radio as I slam on the brakes. I shove at Rocco and curse at him to get his ass moving. We pull guns and leap out of the truck as the back few bikers turn to face us.

“Hands in the fucking air,” I shout at one guy, but he doesn’t react. I’m pointing a gun at his face, but he doesn’t seem bothered at all. It’s hard to see what he’s thinking through the black-tinted facemask of his helmet, but most normal guys would’ve surrendered by now.

More cars and trucks pull down the block. Two behind are mine, and several of my guys jump out, all carrying guns, but there are four trucks up ahead that I’ve never seen before.

Softly, I hear shouting coming over the radio, but I can’t make out what they’re saying, since I left it in the car.

“This is bad,” I mutter.

“No shit,” Rocco says. I can tell he wants to run. “The fuck is going on? Why are these guys not even reacting?”

I move forward slowly, my gun remains level. Up at the truck, the door’s thrown open and Niall gets dragged out alongside Rocco’s man, a young Italian soldier named Joey Dinato. Both of them get kicked down to the ground and guns are pressed to their heads.

One of the bikers breaks off from the group and walks toward me. I stare, and for a second, I think I recognize him—but no, that’s not possible, I only know Matteo from pictures.

Until he flips up his visor and gives me a vicious, horrible grin. “Hello, Ronan, you fucking cocksucker.” Julien raises a gun and points it at my face. “Put down the weapon. Order your men to stand down. Or I’ll put one in poor little Niall’s skull and this’ll turn into a slaughter.”

I stare at him, heart racing into my throat. Up ahead, the other trucks that pulled down the block open up, and men I don’t know move out onto the street. I count five, eight, twelve—more men than we currently have.

At their head is Matteo Ricci. He’s wearing a cocky grin and walking with a swagger, and slowly I start to understand what just happened.

“Why did you get involved?” I ask, slowly lowering my gun.

Julien shrugs. “You pissed me off.”

“But how could you have known ?”

“That’s my little secret, mon ami. D’accord, put down the weapons, s’il vous plait, and nobody gets a bullet to the face, good? Come on, Ronan, don’t be stupid.”

Fucking Julien. Working with Matteo. I don’t understand it, but somehow, they knew we were coming for them, and they got the drop on us. We’re on a quiet block surrounded by old warehouses and construction sites, which means there aren’t any witnesses in case this gets violent.

Which must be how they planned it.

“Stand down,” I call out and drop my gun to the ground.

I note Rocco’s already on his knees with his hands behind his head.

“That’s it, be smart,” Julien says.

“You’re fucking up,” I tell him as he kicks my gun out of my reach. My men all do the same, put their weapons down, even if they’re reluctant about it. Matteo gets behind the wheel of our truck and starts to pull it away.

“I don’t know. Maybe I am. It’s hard to say, really, but when you aimed a gun at my face all because I wanted to have a conversation with that traitor bitch—” He shrugs casually, and my blood boils.

“Don’t talk about her that way. You have no fucking clue. She didn’t betray anyone.” I’m extremely aware of Cormac and Seamus in the group behind me listening very closely. “You’re lashing out because of what happened to Adam.”

“I’m changing with the times. The alliance is dead. Adam is dead. That girl is trouble, and I was going to do you a favor by taking her off your hands. And yet here you are instead.” He shakes his head and looks over his shoulder. The truck is moving down the block and into the new convoy. “I really hope you didn’t have actual drugs in there.”

“I can say with confidence that you won’t be very happy by that score.”

“That’s okay.” He says, backing away. “Let me be clear. This wasn’t about hurting you. It was about letting you know that I can hurt you, and I will hurt you, if you don’t hand that girl over. Be smart, Ronan. Be reasonable. We can have a good relationship again and become friends, if only you start thinking with your head and not with your dick, okay?”

“Fuck you, Julien.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He slams his visor back down and shoves his gun into its holster. “Until next time, my friend.”

Then his men pull out. Rocco reaches for his gun, but I shake my head. There’s no point in trying to hurt them now. They leave Niall and Joey behind, and once they’re down the block and rejoining their fleet of vehicles, I go make sure everyone’s okay.

“Just bruised and annoyed,” Niall says, rubbing his shoulder. “How the fuck did that just happen?”

“It’s a good question,” I tell him, keeping my voice very soft. “Something we’ll have to think about.” I turn back to the rest of the group. The stares I get in return are ugly and unhappy. They expected a big victory today—a bunch of captive thieves with even more drugs and loot on the way after we squeezed locations out of them.

Instead, we lost a truck and a whole lot of pride.

“Everyone back home,” I command, and they don’t move. Not instantly, the way they should. “Don’t fucking stand there. Get moving.”

Slowly, the street clears. But I notice Cormac giving me looks and talking softly to the other soldiers, and I know exactly what they’re saying.