Chapter Twenty

Finley

T he atmosphere in the club before opening was so quiet it was like wandering around an abandoned building. Finley was completing the checklist, noting that the lights in the theatre needed looking into, and the door to one of the private areas was too hard to close. In the meantime, his mind was still on the night Kage had broken his mind and body into pieces, then put him back together with gentle hands as they'd sat in the bath. A few months ago, he'd have been shocked to even consider what Kage had done to him, but back then he hadn't let himself think what he really needed and wanted without caving in to the pressures of society and his inner demons. Kage took exorcising Finley's demons to another level, clearing his head of all worries, as he focused on watching his lover perform as a Dom while he, as a needy sub, waited for him, stimulated on all fronts. It had been such a genius idea. In theory, it might have been too much for Finley, but Kage had known how far to push him and he read Finley's updated list of soft and hard limits, as well as Finley's reactions during the set-up. It had been the perfect balance of his needs and kinks rolled into one intense evening.

"Jagoda wants to see you in her office." Lucy's voice brought Finley back to the present. Towering over him in her goth platform boots, Lucy fluffed her shimmery dress.

"Thanks. Will you give this to Tom?" Finley handed her the clipboard with his scribbles and ticked boxes on it.

"Sure. Take your time, we got you covered here." Lucy's sharp gaze was filled with worry. That wasn't unusual, since Lucy was the caring parent to every employee and patron in this establishment.

Being called to the boss's office could mean getting laid off, or being promoted, but having a Mafia Queen signing his checks every week turned the meeting into an unknown territory.

He marched through the club to the bunker-style doors that led deep underground to the offices, then walked into the lush room with no windows.

"Sit. I have news." Jagoda cut straight to the point, her slim frame dwarfed by the mahogany desk in front of her. Her crimson nails and hair of similar shade were perfect, as always, but her serious expression made the hair at his nape bristle.

Finley took the chair opposite her, straightening his back.

"Ronan called." The name of Finley's old boss rolled off her tongue, her Polish accent making it sound as dangerous as the man was in reality. "Your loyalty to him for seventeen years let you leave his employment, but you're aware that he and my—" she smacked her lips in annoyance, "husband are close, and they're keeping an eye on you."

"Yeah." Finley nodded, squeezing his thighs to stop himself fidgeting. "Don Murphy was clear about that from the start. And I promised if he let me go, I'd do anything that was necessary if he needed my help."

She smirked. "But you had conditions too."

"I wanted to know when those who killed my son would be punished. Or dead." Hope sprung in Finley and he scooted his chair closer. "Do you have any news?"

"Better." She leaned forward, steepling her fingers over the desk. "Ronan's people identified the group and the Irish Mafia washed their hands of them. Ronan needs our guys to play bait to let the cops catch the gang red-handed. They won't go on trial for murder or manslaughter. Well, not your son's, at least. You understand how making your situation public would create an unnecessary trail to Ronan's dealings. But they fucked up, and the Irish now have a scapegoat. So they'll get what they deserve, even if the paperwork won't have Max's name on it."

Finally.

"I'm fine with that. But I have to be there. See who they are." Look into their scared eyes when they realise they'd be going down.

"Ronan thought you'd say that. So we're offering you a spot on the bait unit, at your own risk. Personally, I don't like you going, but Ronan and Zbigniew agree that it's your choice."

Finley had worked for the Mafia, though he was in charge of the distillery that laundered money, far from capturing or killing people. But this was the moment he'd been waiting for.

"Thank you. When is it?"

"Tonight." Jagoda met Finley's gaze, challenging him to back out.

Finley bristled. That's quick. He nodded once.

"You have an hour to change and discuss the basics with Tom. Then, just listen to the guy in command and don't get killed. OK?" Her lips thinned into a line. "It's hard to find trust-worthy staff with muscles and brains. I want you back. Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am." He stood up and had a weird feeling he should bow in thanks, as if he was leaving a royal court.

Tom was already waiting for him by the bunker exit door, his arms crossed over a thick black vest. "Glad to have you on board. Let's get you some gear. And not the leather kind for a change." His smirk and his easy swagger made Finley analyse on which side of D/S he was at. Or maybe a bit on both?

Finley snorted and followed Tom to a room packed with Kevlar vests and weaponry along the walls. Tom relayed more details of the operation while tossing military-grade gear for Finley to wear.

"They got a tip and will attack our money convoy tonight. Hence the last minute notice. The cops will be waiting for them. Don't worry, they're ours." He clapped Finley on the back, then continued detailing the evening's plan.

Finley had been hoping for an opportunity like this one, but that didn't mean he was ready for it. As his stomach refused to settle, his thoughts drifted to the person who would be able to calm him down now. But it was safer for Kage to not know what Finley was about to do.

Kage was working today so he would see Finley was missing his shift. Would he be worried?

You'll be going at your own risk.

Jagoda's words rang in his head and he pulled out his phone. What if he didn't come back?

I had to leave early. See you tomorrow.

Finley sent the text to Kage, but he continued typing. His thumb hovered over sent as the words I love you glowed on his phone.

He held his breath until his lungs burned, then he deleted the text. This was not the way to make a confession, but seeing the words on his screen made Finley realise how true they were. Now he knew what that weird new feeling that had been growing in his chest for weeks was.

"Ready?" Tom asked.

Finley nodded. "Let's go."

The pouring rain cut through the stream of light coming from the streetlamp by the back exit. It reminded Finley of the gloomy moment he'd received the tragic information about Max. The sound of his emergency phone ringing in the dead of night had been a constant visitor to his nightmares ever since.

The transport van was already parked outside and Tom knocked on the rear double doors. They opened from the inside to reveal a bed of boxes, seats on the sides, and Latif dressed in the same black military garb Finley and Tom were wearing.

"Wha—what are you doing here?" Finley didn't hide his bewilderment at seeing his friend.

"Me? I'm making sure no one does anything stupid. I'm the only one with military experience. Oh, don't act so surprised." Latif patted Finley's cheek.

"Sorry, I wasn't expecting that." Finley hopped on the bed of the van, once again marvelling at Latif's talents, including how quickly he could change from Lucy to military garb.

"Four years in Afghanistan. But my nickname GI Jane reached too many ears and I wasn't welcome anymore. So now that you know you're in good hands, strap yourself in. Tom is driving."

Finley's initial astonishment evaporated, as he latched onto an explanation of how easily Lucy curbed drunk patrons with one glare or command.

Just as Latif locked them in, someone banged on the door.

"What now?" Latif murmured, but unlocked the door again, and sighed in exasperation. "I told you nothing will happen to—"

"I'm coming. You can't stop me."

That voice.

"Kage?" Finley craned his neck to see through the cracked door.

"Stubborn Dom. Jump in."

Kage did and took a seat next to Finley. He wore the same gear with the addition of a hip brace connected to a thick belt and steel rods along his thigh.

His leg…

"You shouldn't be here." The words flew out of Finley before he could stop them. Kage could do whatever he wanted, and he'd chosen to come.

"I'm not letting you do this alone." Kage squeezed Finley's knee, the warmth of his touch somehow seeping through the thick fabric of his trousers.

"You weren't supposed to find out. Who spilled?" He looked at Latif but the man shook his head. This operation was on a need-to-know basis so who the fuck— "Mat, you bastard." Finley sighed, but he couldn't be mad at his friend.

"I called him," Kage said and caught the overhead handle as the van drove over a bump. "Your message sounded off, so I panicked when you were gone, and Jagoda wouldn't tell me where you disappeared off to."

"Fucking hell, Kage." Finley wanted to straddle his man and kiss him senseless. He reached for his seatbelt.

"Don't you dare." Latif's voice pierced the humm of the engine and Finley sat back, looking at his friend's stern expression as he glared from the other side of the van.

"We're just transporting empty boxes and playing our role. Let's stick to the script so no one will get hurt," Latif said in a voice that left no space for argument. "We'll get those fuckers behind bars."

Finley nodded and glanced at Kage, who was sporting a smirk and raised eyebrows. "The many faces of Latif, huh?"

"We're almost there. I can see them." Tom's voice reached them through the sliding window to the driver's cabin. "Prepare to—Fuck!"

The van swerved, and Finley grabbed onto a handle above his head.

"Bloody morons!" Something bumped the side of the van and they swerved again, this time far enough for the smooth street underneath them to turn into gravel, then something different altogether. Tom pulled them to a stop. "We're stuck in the mud and we're surrounded by the bloody Irish."

Latif checked his watch. "The cops will be here soon."

The lack of windows in the back prevented them from seeing what the fuck was going on outside. Latif was on his feet, heading towards the driver's cabin but he pointed a short, pink fingernail at Finley and Kage in a silent "Don't you fucking move" gesture.

"Let's wait it out, they can't open the door." Latif looked through the partition and over Tom's shoulder. "Is that a machete? Can't they get guns like normal gangsters?"

Tom whistled low. "The other ones have guns and they're headed our way."

"This ride is bulletproof," Latif said in a serious voice.

A shot fired into the side of the van, the loud, metallic bang startling Finley. He flinched and reached for the comfort of Kage's hand.

"Fuck." Tom turned off the engine and ducked instinctively just as Latif joined Kage and Finley at the back.

"Any moment now." Latif glared at his watch.

A short sound of a police siren sounded right behind them.

"And here they are. Two minutes late." Latif huffed. "Jagoda is paying them too much for this shit."

Finley unstrapped himself and rushed to the door. "I have to see them. I need to—"

"Easy there." Latif unlocked it and Finley jumped out like his legs were made of springs.

Ruckus consisting of orders from the police and protests from the Irish tainted the otherwise peaceful night around them.

Three police cars surrounded them, the blue and white lights of the quiet sirens blinding. Finley shielded his eyes with his hand, but the illumination let him see the men who killed his son. Gentle touch on his nape grounded him as Kage's fingers stroked the exposed part of Finley's skin. Rain drummed on the cars, the wet chill seeping into Finley's bones as he took in the faces of the criminals.

"Fuck. They're just kids." Finley took a few steps towards them, watching the boys in their early twenties struggle against the handcuffs closing around their wrists. Max would have been nineteen this year. But those little shits had taken that away from him.

One of them wiggled out of a policeman's grasp and headed for Finley so fast he didn't register his dash towards a gun until it was too late. An ear-piercing bang split the air, and pain exploded in Finley's arm. He acted fast, tackling the kid to the ground, sending them both skidding on the mud. Finley flipped him face down and held his knee between his shoulder blades. He pulled the kid's hands back but let go as his right arm refused to cooperate.

"I got it from here." One of the cops cuffed the kid and another helped drag him away, kicking and screaming. The gun glistened on the ground, the heavy rain pouring on it as it sank into the mud.

Pain and yelling.

Inside and outside his head.

He was bleeding. This was it. The moment he'd stuck around on this Earth for was over. But so much had happened between his decision to join his son and now, he'd changed his mind. He wanted to stay alive. No. He wanted to live .

This is how Max died. Cold and alone.

Except I'm not alone.

"Finley!" Kage's voice was next to him, his touch on his back, under his elbow, helping him stand up. "He's been shot! Call an ambulance."

A wave of unexpected calmness washed over Finley and the woozy feeling in his head made him stumble. Kage was whispering something in that low, soothing voice of his, words like "you'll be fine, my love" and "I love you so much, you can't leave me" that Finley wasn't sure if he was imagining it.

"Wait." Another familiar voice.

Finley refocused his gaze to see Mat, in a suit as black as night, his hands folded over his chest, looking suave despite being soaked as he stood propped against a fancy BMW parked on the side. He pushed off it and tapped his phone.

"Of course Mat couldn't make it to my show, but he wouldn't miss a party like this." Latif's annoyance made Finley snort a laugh, despite the pain pulsing through him.

"Mat?" Finley groaned. "Wait for what?"

Mat strode towards them, splashing mud over his designer suit. "Let's take my car. I know a doc who won't ask questions. He's expecting us."

"He owes you a favour?" Kage asked as they scrambled to the back seat of Mat's car, soiling the black leather with blood and mud.

"Nah. Even better. He works for my uncle. He'll patch you up in no time"

Finley nodded, grinding his teeth in pain. You'll have to wait for me longer, Max.