Chapter Twenty-Two

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Dav

Where the fuck was Cinna?

I flipped my wrist to check my watch for the fifth time in the past ten minutes, then glanced around the room again. It wasn’t like she’d get swallowed up in the crowd. She always stood out. Which meant I was likely not the only one who noticed she was missing.

As if sensing the train of my thoughts, Elian moved in at my side, glancing around. “Cinna’s not here yet?” he asked, sounding confused.

Because, yeah, Cinna was fine being late for a hangout, but she was always on time when she needed to be. Especially if it was Renzo calling a meeting.

“I know she was working today, but it’s not like her to be late,” I said, hoping some of the panic I was feeling didn’t bleed into my words. If anything, I was normally the person saying something meant to wave off everyone else’s concerns. But I was too debilitated with my own worries to really care about what others were thinking.

I’d texted her twice already, and I was in that place where I wasn’t sure if I did it again, she would freak out about me being needy and push me away. We’d taken steps forward finally. I didn’t want to fuck shit up.

“How are things with the Russians?” I asked Elian as I told myself that, if she didn’t show up by the time Renzo started the meeting, I would text her one more time.

“That’s kind of part of all of this,” he said, waving toward the meeting.

“Renzo taking the job from you?” I asked.

“No. But I’m working close with him on this one.”

“Alright,” Renzo called a few minutes later. “We all have places we’d probably rather be right now, so let’s get this shit over with,” he said, getting a murmur of agreement from everyone.

“The Bratva is moving into our territory,” he said, cutting right to the chase. “I’m not worried, but we all need to be more aware. The butcher shop, for example, had almost been taken right out from under us.”

“Almost?” one of the other capos called out.

“Well, congratulate Rico on his new legit business,” Renzo said, clamping his old friend on the shoulder. “We managed to… persuade the current owners into selling it and skipping out of town. But we are keeping eyes out in case they get other ideas. Especially the older son. He’s my only real concern. Cocky fuck.”

“What about the guy who was strung up?” Saff asked, shoving two capos out of the way, so Renzo could see her in the crowd as he spoke to her.

“That is the current leader of one of the local H dealers in the area. They were attempting to get him to agree to changing his alliance to the Russians.”

“Why are they doing the dirty work for the Bratva?” Saff asked.

“Seems to be a loyalty thing. Or a mutual dirt thing. These fucks can’t try to back out when they got blood on their hands too.

“So, now, it’s important for you to tighten your hold on all your local crews and businesses. Check in. Make sure shit is how it should be. This will not be the only business and crew that the Bratva will try to take.

“If you notice that someone who used to always pay on time is suddenly full of excuses, it’s time to bring some of your crew, and pay them a visit. If you can’t find a legit reason for the lack of cash flow, you’re going to need to bring them in for questioning.”

There were nods and grunts of approval coming from around the room, everyone ready to knock some heads together if they had to.

“The other concern about the Russians right now is that they are making friends.”

“What kind of friends?” someone in the crowd asked.

“Ones in high places. Suddenly, a few beat cops that have been loyal to us don’t want to talk to us anymore. It wouldn’t be paranoid to assume it goes to detectives, judges, and maybe even higher.”

“Great,” someone grumbled from the crowd.

You had to understand that sentiment. After years of a rivalry with the other four New York Families, it was nice to be experiencing a little peace.

It was na?ve to think it would last, though.

“Elian is taking the lead on this case. So unless shit is going down in an emergent kind of way, I want you deferring to him. He will keep me updated on shit, and we will both figure out the next best move. Anyone got any questions?”

“I got one,” one of the men asked, raising a hand a bit, “We getting a break on meat at Rico’s new place?” he asked, making a chuckle move through the crowd, cutting the tense mood.

Renzo and Elian went through a few more minor details before Renzo said the meeting was over, but anyone was willing to hang for a bit. Though I suspected the only reason he offered was because his wife’s brother had swung by to take her out to dinner right before the meeting started. He would always rather be with his wife these days than hanging with us.

I waited until everyone seemed to get involved in conversation before I made my way out of the apartment door, heading to the elevator, then out of the building. After scanning the street, and not seeing Cinna anywhere, I stopped and reached for my phone.

This time, though, I wasn’t texting.

I was calling.

And calling.

And calling.

My stomach churned into knots when it kept going to the machine, thinking of her on my doorstep, beaten, sobbing, broken. Of her in her apartment, having a panic attack after fending off another attacker.

It had been almost a full day since she’d checked in. And while it wouldn’t be something she would normally do, I figured that since we were working this together, and because we’d… gotten closer, that she would at least shoot me an update.

“Come on, pick up,” I grumbled, walking further down the street, not wanting anyone to talk to me if they exited Renzo’s building.

“Hello?” a voice picked up, small, unsure, young. And… male.

“Who is this?” I asked. “Joel?”

“No…, ah, no. This is Lip.”

Lip?

Who the fuck was Lip?

I mean I knew Cinna’s soldiers by name, but not all of her associates. Could this be one of them?

“Who are you? Where is Cinna?” I asked, something about the way my stomach was clenching telling me that shit had just gotten bad.

“She… someone took her. She dropped her phone. I—“

“Where?” I barked, flagging down a cab, and jumping inside, shooting off the address as the kid gave it to me. “Give me more details,” I demanded, feeling dread spread through my veins.

“She got me a sub. And we were talking about some guy who had been hassling me.”

“Did she show you a picture on her phone?” I asked, cursing the red light the cab pulled up to.

“Yeah.”

Chet.

This was about Chet.

It was one more turn before I was hopping out of the cab, running toward the only person standing on the street, looking panicked and lost, a phone pressed to his ear.

“Lip?” I asked, tucking mine away.

“She was taken from right there,” he said, pointing toward the curb I was standing near. “She was just talking to me, and then a van pulled up. I tried to warn her, but it was all too fast. The door flew open, they grabbed her, and she was gone.”

“Did they hurt her?” I asked, adrenaline surging through my system, making me jittery.

“I think they drugged her,” he said. “Someone was doing something to her neck.”

“Fuck,” I growled. “The van. Tell me about the van.”

“It was just black. A black van. Nothing on it. With the sliding door. Like a work truck. No windows. I told the cops all of this,” he said.

“The cops? Are they looking for her?”

I’d never been happy for the cops to be involved in family business. Except for now. With Cinna’s life on the line.

“They thought I was fucking crazy,” Lip said, jaw going tight, eyes looking a little watery with frustration.

It struck me then how young he was. Just a kid, really. Probably not much older than Joel. And living on the street. Then being a witness to a crime and having no one believe him because he was a street kid.

“I know you’re not crazy. Tell me more. What did they look like?”

“I don’t… it was too fast. I saw two men in the back. Maybe three men total?” he said, squinting as he tried to bring the memory back into focus.

Three.

That was how many had attacked her last time.

Who’d done such savage damage to her.

Who now had even more motivation to hurt her since she’d hurt them, fucked with their pride, and likely brought the wrath of their boss onto them.

“Okay. It’s alright,” I said, feigning calm I definitely didn’t fucking feel right then. “What were you talking about before they showed up?”

“She was asking me about the guy on her phone. She heard he’d been harassing me. I told her that he was telling me that his new boss was gonna get rid of the likes of me when they took over. But they wanted to take care of some… cunt ,” he said, whispering the word, “around here first. That was it. That was when they pulled up and grabbed her.”

“How long ago?” I asked.

“Hours. This afternoon.”

Fuck.

“Okay. Alright,” I said, reaching for my phone, and doing something Cinna was going to hate me for. But she could only hate me if she was alive to do so. And this was the only way I could think of to make sure she stayed that way.

I had to break my promise.

I had to share her secret.

I had to tell the boss.

“Miss me already?” Renzo answered, the sounds of the party in full swing behind him.

“Listen to me,” I said, voice tight enough to vibrate.

“Cut that shit off!” he barked at the party, making everything go silent in a beat. “What is it?”

“Someone has Cinna,” I told him.

“The fuck you mean someone has Cinna?”

“She’s been on the trail of someone who is fucking with her. Something felt off about her not being at the meeting, so I called her phone. Some street kid had it, told me the whole thing. Pulled her into a van, drugged her, and drove off.”

“Mother fuckers,” he snarled, snapping at those gathered around him, and I could practically see them all moving out of the apartment in unison.

“Who runs the area around Amboy?” I asked. “That’s where she was taken from while asking the kid about some guy who said his boss was taking over this area.”

“Amboy? Fuck, Rico, who runs Amboy?” he asked, sticking me on speaker.

“Amboy is those Strand brothers. But the older one was pulled in a few months back. Younger seems to be losing grip on the area.”

“Who would take it over? That’s who has Cinna. Maybe a woman,” I added.

“A woman?” Rico repeated as I heard them all moving out onto the street.

“Just… think. She had reason to believe a woman was running things.”

“Fuck, um…”

“What about that Miller bastard’s widow?” Saff asked. “Around that area. Cinna was the one who had him offed.”

“I can’t think of anyone else,” Rico admitted.

“You got a location for her?” Renzo asked Saff.

“No, but it’s gotta be around there somewhere, right?” she asked.

“We’re five minutes away,” Renzo said, and I heard the warning in his voice.

A warning I had no intentions of listening to.

“I’m not waiting,” I said, cutting off my phone.

With that, I scanned the street.

“What way did it go?” I asked the kid.

“That way,” he pointed, and I took off at a dead run, wishing I had more weapons on me. I had a gun. Some extra ammo. And a knife in my pocket.

It would have to do until backup arrived.

The area around Amboy had a lot of house complexes and none of them felt conducive to kidnapping, torture, and murder.

So I kept running, my gaze frantically searching the surroundings, trying to locate the van, or any building that seemed like it could be used to hide someone.

It had been hours since they took her.

How much had she endured since then? Was she still alive? Did she wish she wasn’t?

A growl escaped me, my vision going red around the edges.

So much so that I almost missed it.

A black fucking work van with a the goddamn sliding door still thrown open, parked in a way that it was half-hidden by a dumpster.

Of an apartment building.

An apartment building?

I didn’t really stop to rationalize that.

I just ran up the block, then across the street, trying to slow my breathing, so they didn’t hear me coming with all the heaving breaths as I stared at the building.

It had to be the basement.

Nothing else made sense.

Even if this crew was running the area now, what were the chances that every person in the building would stick their heads in the sand and act like they didn’t hear a woman screaming and being tortured?

True, I didn’t have a lot of faith in human beings, but someone would have been upset enough about that to call the cops.

Basements, while not exactly soundproof, provided some sound protection. And there was a whole floor above without apartments as well.

“Open the door for me,” I demanded to one of the teens hanging about, not looking like they were working, just slacking.

“The fuck are you? No,” he said, making a face toward his friends about me.

“Open the fucking door,” I snapped, feeling the darkness seep in, start to take over, as I did something the normal, sane side of me would never do. Raise a gun to a kid’s head.

“Whoa whoa,” he said, hands up, body tense, but his words were casual. “No need to go all fucking psycho, man,” he said, going to the door, and slipping in his key.

“You see a group of men coming down this street, you tell ‘em that Dav is in here,” I demanded.

“Yeah, whatever,” the kid said, trying to be cool for his friends, but his hands were shaking.

I could feel like shit about that later.

Not now.

When fuck-knew what was happening to Cinna right below my fucking feet.

I moved away from the elevator, not wanting anyone to be alerted to my presence until it was too late for them to do anything about it.

I made my way to the stairs, cringing as I carefully closed the door, then paused for only long enough to slip out of my shoes before continuing down.

A cold sweat had broken across my skin as my stomach felt like a fucking washing machine, spinning and sloshing with each step downward.

I didn’t remember the last time I stopped to give God a passing glance, but I found myself praying like I never had before as I kept descending.

For Cinna’s safety.

That she walked away from this, even if I didn’t.

I came to the lower door, ducking low to not be seen through the small glass cutouts, but trying to lean against it, to listen.

I wanted to charge in.

Gun going off.

But Cinna’s chances for survival were better if I reined it in, if I forced myself to be smart.

All that flew out of the window, though, when I heard a long, high, cry reach to me from far away.

Fuck calm and collected.

Fuck every rational part of me.

That was my girl in there.

Being hurt.

If ever there was a time when I could let go, could let the dark side of me take me over completely, this was it.

I tossed my jacket onto the floor, not wanting it to get in my way, then slammed my hand into the door release bar, hearing the click like gunfire in my head.

“What was that?” I heard someone ask from a distance, even as the door slammed closed behind me. “Go, idiot,” the voice demanded again.

Not five seconds later, footsteps were rushing toward me, guns in their hands. But down by their waists.

By the time they could even raise them, mine was aiming and shooting.

Once, twice, on the first guy, then a clean headshot to the second.

Lackeys, I decided, because I could hear men’s raised voices from somewhere in the back corner of the basement.

The real bad guys.

The ones hurting my girl.

My teeth ached from my jaw clenching as I rushed across the space.

The basement was a maze of stacked boxes, creating hidden spaces. For men to hide and jump out at me. For them to hide Cinna from me.

An arm appeared in front of me, outstretched ahead of someone’s body.

I aimed lower and shot, hearing a howl of pain as the bullet sliced into somewhere in the fucker’s stomach, his gun falling in shock as he tried to press his hands against his wound.

His distraction was his downfall, allowing me to place my gun close to his face, squeeze the trigger, and watch half of his sorry fucking face get blown off, his body wobbling on his feet for a second before he crumbled to the ground.

“The fuck is going on?” another voice snarled.

“Over here!” Cinna’s voice, small, breathless, called out to me, making me change directions and make my way toward her even as she let out a grunt as someone struck her again.

“Shut the fuck up,” a woman’s voice snarled at her.

“You come over here, and she will take a bullet to her head,” the woman called, voice calm and collected, despite already losing three of her men.

But she’d just been distracting me, dulling my senses by tugging at my heartstrings like that.

Because I felt the muzzle of a gun press into my temple.

“Put it down,” a cold voice demanded.

I did, even kicking it away from myself.

He made a fatal calculation thinking I needed a gun for this, though. By not realizing that the animal side inside of me preferred to fight without one. Liked the feel of hot, sticky blood covering my hands, enjoyed the pain of beating someone’s face in.

It had been a long time since I let more than a small sliver of my dark side creep out.

I was going to enjoy the fuck out of this.

I played along for a moment, wanting him to take me to Cinna, wanting a moment to assess the situation, see how I could get her free and safe while also getting revenge for her.

“This motherfucker killed Nick, Roy, and Eddie,” the guy behind me said, landing a kick to the back of my knee as the rest of the people came into view.

Including Cinna, zip tied to a chair.

Bloody.

Sweating.

Eyes wild.

My gaze took it all in, memorized it, because I wanted them to pay for every punch, smack, cut, and whatever else the fuck she’d endured.

Standing to her side was a man with a pleased smirk, his fingers still inside a set of brass knuckles.

Behind her chair was the other woman I’d heard before.

She was older than I’d anticipated. Maybe in her forties with a short crop of blonde hair, icy blue eyes, and a svelte frame in a hideously ill-fitting navy blue pant suit.

And that dark patch by her sleeve?

I suspected that was Cinna’s blood.

My gaze slid back to Cinna, watching as her gaze slipped down twice quickly, begging me to follow.

When I did, I saw that my girl hadn’t been idle.

Her wrists were bound back behind the chair, widening her chest, making her arch back painfully.

But something wasn’t quite right.

Because the hand I could see was holding onto the chair rung, blood slipping down her hands and fingers.

Her sleeve was down, but I was almost sure she had that wrist free, but knew she couldn’t move because her other wrist and her ankles were still bound. Someone would be able to overpower her before she could get herself fully free.

But I did have my knife on me.

I just had to get it to her.

“So,” I said, tone lighter than my mood was feeling. “You’re the bitch who made me drive all the way out to Bumfuck, Nowhere Jersey to get rid of a body.”

I didn’t know who this Chet guy was, but clearly, he meant something to this woman, judging by how her focus fully went to me instead of Cinna.

“And you’re the one who’s been hiding her from me,” the Miller widow said, pinning me with those shark eyes.

“I gotta say, it’s a specific kind of evil for a woman to order men to try to rape another woman,” I said, getting myself a hard kick from the man behind me.

I let it make me fly forward onto all fours, getting me close enough to Cinna to pretend to use her chair to pull myself up while I carefully slipped the knife under her thigh closest to her free hand.

“Get up,” the Miller woman snapped, making the man grab me by the back of my shirt, hauling me back.

I made eye contact with Cinna then, letting her see all the rage, all the bottomless darkness I usually kept so carefully contained.

I saw the appreciation on her battered face as the devilish smile tugged at my lips.

And then I was swinging back and under, grasping the hand with the gun with both of mine, yanking until I heard a crack and a howl of pain, then taking the gun for myself, cocking, and sending a bullet flying through the fucker’s chest.

Turning back, I shot out the knee of the bastard who’d been putting his hands on Cinna, watching the blood spurt, seeing his leg give out as he cried.

“I don’t kill women,” I said, turning on the widow.

“But I do,” Cinna said, popping up out of her chair, catching the gun I threw out at her, and turning on her captor.

Cinna was okay.

She could handle the woman.

Now?

Now it was time for me to have some fun.