Chapter Forty

Dante

As the door closes behind Nico, I take a deep breath and say to Sal, "Call the smug son of a bitch."

Sal fishes out a sleek black digital device, scrolls down, then starts typing a secure communication code onto the laptop.

Like a nomad, Cade's location changes every few weeks, but he never fails to update his sister, who invariably passes the information to Sal.

Within seconds, the line crackles to life, and I hear the gravelly voice of the man I despise almost as much as I need right now.

"Hey, Sparrow," he calls Sophie's road name, an unusual warmth seeping into his voice.

"It's er . . . Dante," I say through gritted teeth.

Cade's tone instantly drops a thousand degrees colder when he demands, "Is Sophie okay?"

"Sophie's fine," I reply. "But I need—"

"Then we're done here, Dumber. " Cade cuts me off, ready to hang up.

"Wait, Quinn." I clench my fist and swallow my pride, knowing what's at stake. "I need your help finding two women."

Silence greets me for what feels like a full minute, and then Cade drawls, "So, you've lost a couple of your imported pleasure slaves. What the fuck do you want me to do about that, besides lock you up?"

I take a calming breath and then force the words out. "You know better, Quinn. You know we don't deal with flesh—"

"Which is the only reason you're all still breathing—"

"Those women have been kidnapped, you fucking sanctimonious prick!"

Another interminable pause, during which it sounds like he opened a bag of chips and ate half of it. I feel my right eyelid starting to twitch.

"Still not my problem." Cade snaps, munching.

I bite back a curse and take another breath. I knew getting Cade on board would be difficult, but I didn't expect it to feel like swallowing glass shards.

"Quinn, they're not just anyone. Addy is my woman, and Kira, her friend, is like a sister to me."

"Could be your grandma and your day-old baby, and I still wouldn't give a fuck."

God, I hate this guy. Give me hot coals to walk barefoot on any day. Not him.

In desperation, I play my last card. "Listen. Addy's pregnant with Sophie's nephew—or niece. And I have cause to believe she's being forced into a marriage tonight. And Kira, who was taken as leverage . . ." I pause, feeling like a heel for playing the sympathy card, but the only language the bastard understands is vulnerability. "Kira . . . she's registered blind."

A longer silence. When he speaks again, his voice has lost its lazy drawl. "Explain. Now."

I take a deep breath, knowing I'm about to reveal more than I'd like to this prick. "Addy is actually Benjamin O'Shea's daughter—"

"Who is now dead, so spin me another tale—"

My patience finally snapping, I growl, "If only you'd shut the fuck up and listen, Quinn, you'd learn she's not dead—"

"Dumber, I'm two fucking seconds away from hanging up—" Cade snaps back.

Sal shoulders me away and interjects. "Mr. Quinn, this is Salvatore."

"Oh, look who we have here," Cade's voice drips with sarcasm. "It's our Harvard felon!"

Sal doesn't rise to his bait. "Addy O'Shea is alive. We faked her death to keep her safe. The Mob is moving in, which wouldn't usually be a problem, but they need a mercenary army to face us. Addy has been sold to the Philly Shadow Gang in exchange for an army. Kira was used to get Addy and probably is of no use to them anymore. There's a chance Kira could be . . . discarded or enslaved once they've got their alliance done and dusted. Please help us."

My head whirls to Sal, the urge to deck him beating down on me. I mouth, "Please help us? Are you insane?"

Sal only shrugs, apparently not caring about having to grovel.

Doesn't he realize Cade Quinn was caught the moment I mentioned Sophie's nephew or niece? The man would do anything for his sister. He's just enjoying giving me shit.

After another long pause, Cade mutters, "You felons sure know how to fuck shit up royally, don't you?"

"Look, can you help or not?" I snap.

"I can. But only because Sal begged. Fuck, that was hot, Salvatore." I can practically hear the leer in his voice.

Jesus Christ. The guy is disgusting. Adopted brother or not, I just don't see how he and Sophie can be siblings.

I manage to remain silent. Still, Cade makes me wait. Just when I'm about to hurl the laptop at the wall, he speaks, his voice taking on a crisp note. "I'll need access to your systems and everything you know. And thirty minutes."

"Done," I say without hesitation. "Whatever you need, Sherlock."

"Good. And tell Dumb that when this is over, if he steps one toe out of the line I've drawn him, his ass rots in a maximum security prison. That goes for you, too, Dumber. Are we clear?"

"Crystal." I snap, relief and gratitude warring with my natural distaste for the man.

The line cuts off again, and I mutter, "Dumbest."

Waiting for another thirty minutes feels like an eternity when Addy's life is on the line, but I know Cade Quinn, and as much as it galls me to admit it, he's our best shot at extracting her quickly and safely.

I use the tense half hour to brief the men who've reported at Nico's orders, preparing for every possible scenario. Sal paces the room, his usual calm demeanor cracking under the weight of worry.

Orlando, learning of his daughter's kidnap, insists on joining us despite my initial reservations. His eyes burn with a father's determination, and I recognize the same desperation I feel.

When the secure line buzzes from the screen again, I dive for the keyboard, immediately realizing for the first time when I glance at the coordinates that the guy is outside the country.

"Talk to me," I bark.

"Calm the fuck down." Cade's sardonic voice crackles through. "1420 Callowhill Street, Philadelphia. It's a brownstone, heavily fortified. Security systems are top-notch, thankfully, which means I can fuck it up faster. Basement is where the action is. Some drunken orgy. Wedding reception Shadow Gang style, I reckon."

Clenching my fist, I suppress the urge to put it through the wall. I hate to admit it, but the bastard's reach is impressive. All the way from Havana, he's managed to pinpoint Kira and Addy's location in a matter of minutes.

"So, what are we walking into?" I ask.

"Half a dozen armed on the perimeter. I can give you a clear path to the property. But I hope you know I can't control their weapons, Dumber . You'll need to aim and shoot."

"Understood," I say, this time not biting. "Anything else, Sherlock?"

"Only that if you end up wasting my time and fail to get those women out in one piece, I'll be really pissed off."

He disconnects, but this time I don't have time to wonder what the guy's problem is beyond the adrenaline pumping in my veins. In a matter of minutes, we have a location, we have intel, and almost unbelievably, we have Cade Quinn on our side.

I turn to the extraction team, a group of eight men, including Sal and Orlando. "Gear up. We leave in ten."

The next few minutes are a blur of activity. Weapons are checked and loaded. Kevlar vests are donned. Comms are tested. Usually, I'd be itching for my AirPods, but right now, I want to revel in my fury. First, I need to get Addy safe.

Then I'll unleash hell on Philadelphia.

The jet touches down in exactly one hour with a jolt that matches the urgency pulsing through me. As we disembark, I relish the cold crisp night air and the faint stench of the nearby Delaware River. The city lights twinkle in the distance, oblivious to the storm brewing.

An armored Klassen Sprinter waits on the tarmac, and we pile in silently, each man's face a mask of determination. The van seats twelve comfortably, but with just nine of us—myself, Sal, Orlando, and six of our most trusted soldiers—the extra space only amplifies the tension hanging in the air.

As we pull away from the airfield, Cade's voice crackles through our earpieces. "Welcome to the City of Brotherly Love, assholes."

I grit my teeth, resisting the urge to rip out the comm. "Just give us a tested route, Quinn."

"What's the matter, Dumber? Too anxious for a witty comeback? Addy will be fine—if you don't fuck up." Despite his mocking tone, I can hear the rapid clack of his keyboard in the background. While reassuring me that he's finding me answers, the sound begins to wind me up after it carries on for a full minute.

"The route, Quinn," I snap. "Before I decide to find my own way."

He snorts. "As if you could find your own ass with both hands and a map. His tone turns serious. "Take I-95 North, then exit onto Callowhill Street. Your destination is halfway down the block."

I relay the directions to our driver as Cade continues. "You'll have a five-minute window once I disable their security systems."

"Copy that," I respond, then turn to the team. "Addy and Kira are the priority. Everything else is secondary. Sal and I go in and get the girls. Orlando, you too. After they're out, the floor is all yours, ragazzi. And you'd better dance like it's open fucking season."

Sal nods, his usually jovial face set in hard lines. Orlando casually slips a toothpick into his mouth, but I can see his knuckles are white on his weapon, and a father's fury is radiating off him in waves.

As we near Callowhill Street, I feel the familiar pre-mission calm settling over me. The world narrows down to the objective: get in, get the girls, get out.

Everything else fades away.