The Deadliest Sin Series Complete Collection, page 120
Felipe motions to three dark sedans. “Cutter, Galen, Andres, you take those. Keys are inside.” He steps up to the SUV, opens the rear door, helps Rowan inside, then pauses to look back at us as we dart toward the sedans. “I have no doubt everyone will do their own investigation into the situation. I'm sure we'll be in touch.”
He slips inside and closes the door with a finality that makes Nicki wince. We dart to a black Mercedes, and I slide into the driver’s seat. She opens the passenger door but pauses, her gaze locked on Cutter climbing into the car next to ours.
Cutter holds open his door. “Last chance. You sure, Nick? You can still come with me.”
I hold my breath, waiting for her response. It would be so easy for her to close that door and get in with him. He would protect her. Ensure none of this ever touches her again. He could make sure she finds true happiness somewhere far away from the gunfire and threats and blood.
She hesitates for only a moment before she shakes her head and slides into the passenger seat beside me, but that millisecond feels like a fucking eternity. I release my breath, grab the keys from the glovebox, and start up the car with a satisfying roar off the concrete surrounding us.
Nicki grabs her seatbelt and secures it before she looks over at me. “We haven't had the best of luck in car chases.”
“Hopefully, there won't be one.”
One of her eyebrows rises slowly. “Where are we going?”
I throw the car into gear. “Anywhere but here.”
NICKI
Galen tears out of the rear entrance to the subterranean parking garage, following the line of cars containing Felipe and Rowan, Cutter, Rose and Kat, and the rest of Felipe's men just as gunshots ring out from the front of the garage. The hit squad—whether sent by Kat or someone else—missed us by only seconds, thanks to Preacher’s warning.
Thank God…
I release the breath I was holding, pull the gun from my waistband, set it on my lap, and sag back into the plush leather seat as the city whizzes by us.
Galen reaches over and twines his fingers with mine on my thigh. “I meant what I said to Cutter. If you want out of this with me, you can go at any time. I'm quite confident your brother can secure your safety, and I'll bring you to him. He’ll make sure none of this is anything you ever have to deal with again.”
I glance down at the gun in my lap, the one I took from Cutter and pointed at Galen only hours ago, ready to use it to protect my brother if I had to. “I just don't understand what's happening.” I pull my hand out from under his, his touch making it hard to think, impossible to process all the feelings consuming me. “So much has happened. So much I don’t understand. Why are these men suddenly here and after everyone?”
He shakes his head, taking a turn that brings us onto the highway heading north. “I don't know. And I can't guarantee you it won't happen again.” He releases an exasperated sound and returns his hand to the steering wheel. “I just can’t, a chuisle.”
“What does that mean?”
“What does what mean?”
“A chuisle?” I just slaughtered that pronunciation, but I’ve been wondering since the first time he called me it what feels like ages ago.
A grin twitches the corner of his lips. “The literal translation is ‘my pulse.’ It basically means, ‘what I live for.’”
Damn. That’s pretty fucking romantic.
And I have absolutely no response to something like that. Instead, I watch the city out the window. “Where are we going?”
Galen stares at the road. “Out of the city. I need to put you somewhere where you'll be safe while I take care of something.”
I swallow through the sudden lump in my throat. Take care of something… “You're going to leave me?”
He glances over at me, the scar on his face twisting as he offers an apology in his gaze. “Only for a short time. But it's necessary.”
“Where are you going?”
His hands tighten on the steering wheel as he takes time to consider his answer. "I need time to figure out what's going on with the Albanians, to get that situation sorted out so we’ll be safe. But there's one thing that I can deal with now. One threat I can eliminate so we're not looking over both shoulders in two different directions.”
It doesn’t take a massive leap to see where he is going with this. “The Luna Cartel?”
“Yes. Going back and forth with them almost got you killed. I'm not going to leave any stone unturned until they're all gone. Every last one of them—along with any potential threat to you.”
That promise is all well and good, but the reality of the situation is something else entirely. That’s a truth that’s become abundantly clear in the time we’ve spent together.
“But how can you possibly do that, Galen? How can you know you got them all, that you completely eliminated the threat?”
He releases a heavy sigh. “Luke told me he has a lead on their headquarters. If he’s right, I can cut the head off the snake and hope the rest of them scatter.”
“Do you know who the head is?”
“We aren't entirely sure. They call him Luna, and he rose to power quite quickly and immediately moved in from Mexico to Chicago. It seemed to be his primary target right from the beginning of building his organization, so one would think he'd be here personally.”
“You weren't at your warehouse when your guys were hit.”
He offers me a little half-smirk. “True, but he's lost a lot of men to me recently—and to the police. Their numbers are dwindling. He'd be spread too thin at multiple locations and have likely consolidated to one defensible location. So, we think we can take them out there.”
“But…you barely have any men left.” Those he did have were lost at Valentina and Cutter’s place.
“I know. Very few. Which is exactly why I'm going to call Valerian and ask him to help.”
The Russian…
“You trust him?”
His shoulders rise and fall slowly like he’s considering the answer and isn’t wholly committed to it. “I don't have a choice. I can't go to any of the other families. It’s my problem, and they have enough of their own and no reason to help me.”
I stare out the window at the dark sky, considering everything that's happened over the last few weeks. “Can't we just…” I don't look at him when I say the words because I can't stand to see his reaction. “…I don’t know…walk away from it all?”
His silence is all the answer I need, but still, my heart pulls at me and makes me turn to look at him.
“You told me you made a promise to God that once you had found your sister, you would leave all this behind, that you would have to let it go. That you'd become the good man I see glimpses of. Why can't you just do that now? Just let everything go and walk away.”
It would make things so much simpler.
It would solve all our problems.
He reaches out and slides his hand over mine again, squeezing it gently. “I was just a kid when I made that promise. A young, naïve child who didn't understand the way the world works. This isn't a life you walk away from. You can't; it would follow us anywhere we went. We would never be safe. At least here, doing this, I know my enemies. Well…until recently. I know what battles I have to fight, and anywhere else, it would be starting over and never knowing if a friendly neighbor next door was really a hitman sent for payback against me for something I did in my past.”
He's right.
Deep down, I know it, no matter how much I might want to deny it.
This isn't a life you can walk away from.
“Do you want to leave, Nicki? I asked you before, and we were interrupted before you could give me your answer. But now, I need to know before I drop you off. Before I meet up with Valerian, I need to know what I'm coming back to. Will you be there? Or should I have Cutter come pick you up?”
Acid burns up my throat, and I swallow it back along with a sob. This is the hardest decision I've ever made in my life. Harder than giving up on Cutter all those years ago. Harder than quitting school. Harder than leaving home to come here.
I just hope it’s one I can live with.
“If I leave, and Cutter does what you promise—sets me up with a new identity, a new home, a new life—there's no guarantee your enemies won’t find me, is there?”
His jaw tightens, and he shakes his head. “No, there isn't. We would do everything we could, but there’s never any guarantee.”
“So, I'd be alone and miserable. Living a life that isn't mine. Without you, and it could all be for nothing.”
He swallows thickly and glances at me. “It would be the only way to potentially keep you safe. The only shot we have.”
“Or, I can stay here and have the same threats, but also…have you. Have this.”
He squeezes my hand again. “A chuisle, I want that more than I want anything else in this world. Because I'm a greedy bastard, and I want it all. But I can't force you to do it. I can't ask you to, either. I won't.”
“You don't have to. I've made my decision. I'll be there when you get back, when you get done taking care of whatever you need to do. I'll be waiting. I'm not going anywhere. Ever.”
GALEN
A dark SUV pulls up next to me, and Valerian slips from the back seat of it and opens the door to climb into the front seat of mine.
He closes the door and tosses me a look that holds a million questions in it. “Are you sure you want to do this, comrade?”
I stare at the building in front of us, the one that holds what's left of the Luna Cartel.
At least, I hope it does.
“If my intel is correct, I don't have a choice.”
Now that I know everything I do about the shooting at the church, Kat’s potential involvement, the hit squad that almost got us at Felipe's, and the promise I made to Nicki, I can't have one enemy breathing down my neck when we're still trying to confirm who the other one is.
Valerian relaxes back in the seat as if we’re not about to go in and light the place up. “If you don't get all of them, they'll only come back for you again and again.”
I turn toward the only ally I have and slam my palm against the steering wheel, gritting my teeth against the sharp stab of pain that runs through my arm—the pain I've been pushing away and trying not to think about through all of these last few days. “You think I don't know that?”
Only an idiot would believe anything is ever truly over with an enemy like the cartel. They have roots in Mexico, people there who will come seeking revenge. I can keep taking them out when they show, but there may never be an end to it. The only chance of that happening is by cutting the head off the snake like I explained to Nicki.
I grab my gun, eject the magazine to ensure it’s full, then pop it back in and rack one into the chamber. “How many men did you bring?”
Valerian glances out the window at several vehicles that have pulled up next to us. “About twenty.”
“I only have four reliable men left. The rest either got taken out by the cartel or are too green to be depended on.”
The Russian grunts. “I don't envy your position.”
“No, I imagine you don't. You've managed to remain relatively unscathed through all of this.”
It’s more an accusation than an observation, but I know how Valerian will take it.
He barks out a laugh and shakes his head. “Have you forgotten that Kat fucked me just as badly as she fucked you? I had to shut down two of my clubs because I can no longer bring in the girls I need. They all want to come work for her. And the shipment of weapons she stole from me means my men are stuck using antiquated equipment rather than the good stuff I paid for.”
“Well, you seem to be doing just fine with whatever it is you have for the time being. But whether it's Kat who's after us, or her enemies in Albania, or the cartel, luck will only hold for so long. No one's does forever. That's why we're going in.”
The speech is as much for me as it is for him. A reminder of why taking this risk is worth it. Securing a future with Nicki is worth it.
He inclines his head in agreement to proceed, and we both step from the vehicle and out into the fall Chicago air. His men climb from the vehicles dressed in dark fatigues and masks, ready for whatever might come our way and whoever we might find inside.
I stand in front of the group, addressing the men quietly. “I don't have any idea how many men are left or what we might be looking at, but we can't leave any survivors.”
They all nod their understanding, and we make our way toward the entrance, where security guards sit at a desk just inside the door. They look through the glass at the movement outside, but it's too late. The rounds shatter the glass and go right into them before they can react and alert anyone in warning.
But our shots have just given away that we're here regardless of whether they sent up an alert or not. We enter and fan out, heading down the various hallways, and almost immediately, resistance gunfire echoes in my ears.
A man steps from a room to my left, and I pop two bullets into his chest before he can even pull his gun. Angry yells in Spanish fill the night, mixing with the various sounds of gunfire and cries of pain.
Valerian and I move with precision. Even though we've never worked together like this before, we both know what has to be done.
We shoot our way through any obstacle that appears and dodge the shots that come our way the best we can. A bullet grazes Valerian’s shoulder, and he barks out a curse but continues pushing forward until we reach a massive warehouse filled with crates likely holding the weapons and drugs they've been bringing in.
The clank of the rear door to the warehouse rising draws me toward it. Valerian follows close behind.
An engine roars to life from the same direction.
“Fuck, someone's getting away.”
We break into a sprint and turn around a row of boxes just in time to see a dark blue BMW tear out through the still-opening door with barely an inch to spare above the roof.
“Fuck!”
We both unload our magazines at the vehicle, trying to stop it, but it's no use. Return fire comes from up above and behind us, and I dive to the left behind a crate and reload a new magazine as Valerian dives to the right and does the same.
There isn’t any time to worry about who might have just escaped, not when we’re pinned down here. We look at each other across the opening between us, and I motion to go on the count of three.
One…
Two…
Three…
We both turn and begin firing up in the direction of the bullets. Two men on a catwalk return fire, but Valerian and I are good shots. They both tumble off it—their bodies and weapons clattering to the concrete below.
An office stands at the end of the catwalk, lit and potentially holding the man we’re looking for. If this were my base of operations, that’s where I would work from—where I could keep an eye on everything happening in the warehouse.
I motion toward it. “Let's go clear it.”
Valerian nods his understanding, and we race up the steps and into the office. I scan it for anything useful, but it's nearly empty except for a wooden box sitting in the center of the desk.
Whoever left did so in a hurry, potentially leaving behind something invaluable. I take a step toward it and lift the lid slowly.
A strange beeping fills the room.
Sweet fucking Christ…
Valerian steps up next to me and stares down at it. “Is that what I think it is?”
I nod as I stare at the bomb and the numbers ticking down on the digital display.
10…
9…
8…
In love, as in gluttony, pleasure is a matter of the utmost importance.
- Italo Calvino
VALERIAN
7…
Galen’s gaze darts up from the timer on the bomb to me. “What the fuck do we do?”
5…
“How the fuck should I know?” I examine the device in the box on the desk. Given its size, there’s no way we have time to run to get far enough away to survive the blast. “Aren’t you Irish supposed to be good with explosives?”
3…
“I don’t fucking know. Maybe we can—”
1…
I jerk on the black wire as hard as I can, yanking it free from where it connects to the clock counting down to our demise, and wait for the pain to hit before I’m obliterated and go to meet my maker.
Only the world doesn’t explode around Galen and me.
The clock stays on 1, and absolutely nothing happens.
“Bloody hell, Valerian.” Galen’s relieved gaze zeroes in on the wire in my hand. “How the fuck did you know what wire to pull?”
I smile at him and shrug, trying not to show how truly shaken I am to have come so close to death. “I guessed.”
“You bloody guessed?” His eyes widen, the scar over the left one twisting ominously, and he sneers. “Are you bloody insane? What if that had set off the bomb?”
“It was going to go off, anyway.” I release the tiny black wire that somehow saved our lives and return to scanning the office for anything that might assist us in locating the head of the Luna Cartel, who seems so intent on destroying the one ally I have in this war for Chicago. “I figured red is dead, so black is safe.”
“Un-fucking-believable.” Galen shakes his head and releases a sardonic laugh. “We survived because red rhymes with dead. Is abhlóir thu!”
I scowl at him, my annoyance tightening my fists at my sides. “You’re welcome, by the way. For saving your fucking ass. Neblagodarnyy mudak!”
Galen continues muttering to himself in Irish as he helps me search the office, but it’s empty save for the now-defunct bomb. Whoever was here and who fled in that BMW took any answers with them—and left a dark cloud hanging over my Irish friend. One that he seems intent on wrapping me up in.
