Dark Tide, page 14
The vast space opens up in front of us—four-story ceiling, large industrial machines lining the walls, and a massive table placed in the center. We aren't the first to arrive, and I survey the groups already here.
A pantheon of organized crime.
Rose—the head of the most powerful Columbian cartel—stands to our left with a handful of his goons and E. Thankfully, E looks no worse for the wear. I wouldn’t have expected anything different. Rose would be an idiot to harm him in any way, especially while we still had his sister.
E angles his head at us in acknowledgment, and Rose spots us and flashes us his trademark sly grin.
The Russians congregate to our right. A couple of massive guys stand around Valerian Kamenev, the man who has sat at the helm of the family for the past few years. They barely acknowledge our presence.
The Irish just look pissed and impatient where they sit at the table, apparently ready to get down to business and annoyed with the delay.
We’re the last ones here.
My hand flexes next to my gun. It would have been pointless to try to demand no weapons. None of us are stupid enough to come here without carrying steel, and that only makes my stomach churn harder. If anyone gets an itchy trigger finger in here, it will make the Valentine's Day Massacre look like a children’s party.
Everyone better stay cool.
I don’t want to be making or patching up holes in anyone today. Any day, really. But judging from the looks we’re getting from everyone around the table, it’s a very real possibility today.
We approach the table, and Rose opens his arms. “Valentina, I'm so glad you could make it.”
She accepts his friendly embrace, and they kiss each other on both cheeks. Cutter tenses next to her. It’s hard to believe he hasn’t killed Rose yet just for how friendly he is with Valentina.
Sofia brushes past us and over to her brother, who pulls her into his arms and whispers something into her ear. She nods and walks behind his men.
Valentina moves on to the Russians. Kamenev shakes her hand and pulls her in the for the same double-cheeked kiss, earning another sneer from Cutter.
Warwick and E both cast me knowing looks. We’re always ready to jump in if necessary in these situations. Cutter manages to keep himself under control when she’s in control, acting as the head of the family, but it only takes one person overstepping for Cutter to snap and do something stupid.
She moves around the table to greet the Irish, but Galen McGinnis just grunts at her and nods in her direction. He’s always been a little rough around the edges, and his inability to even pretend to play nice isn’t anything new.
While the Italians, the Russians, and the Irish have all relatively peacefully coexisted in Chicago for decades, Rose has been making waves just as much as Michael. They could be having this meeting to talk about him just as much as the Albanians, and the fact that Valentina is in business with Rose—no matter how limited in time and scope the agreement may be—is cause for increased tensions where there used to be none.
This meeting is going to test the limits of everyone’s ability to remain polite and stay in the appropriate lanes. Crossing over into someone else’s now could be catastrophic. Everyone just needs to focus on the agenda here—Michael Syla. Nothing else.
Then, maybe everyone will get out alive.
Valentina takes her seat at the head of the table, a place of honor that was no doubt given to her because of the respect she’s gained in her short time running the family. She stepped into some pretty big shoes and has managed to take things to another level already.
Cutter stands to her side with Warwick and me behind her on either side. E lingers to the left, between us and Rose, his sister, and his men, keeping an eye on the man he’s spent more time with than any of us. Hopefully, he’s learned something that might be useful to us in the future.
The warehouse falls into a tense silence as everyone takes stock of the rest of the group. Quiet always makes me uneasy. Too many things have happened immediately after silences like these. Too many bad things.
I shift my weight and focus on those around the table.
Who is going to take the initiative to speak up first?
Kamenev clenches his fists on the top of the table. “Let’s get down to business. That bastard Michael Syla intercepted my last weapons shipment and took out my men.”
Valentina raises a dark eyebrow. “Do you have confirmation that it was him?”
He slams his palm down, the sound echoing through the warehouse. “Given the descriptions of the men, I don't know who else it could be. One of them had a set of very nasty scars on his face, and Syla has a man known for that. Unless it was you…” He narrows his eyes at Cutter, clearly insinuating it could just as easily have been us given the unusual shared malady.
She chuckles and holds up her hands. “I have no reason to steal your weapons, Valerian. And if I had, believe me,” she glances up at Cutter, “Cutter would have ensured that anyone who could identify him wasn’t able to report back.”
Kamenev seethes and opens his mouth.
Valentina holds up a hand to silence him. “I think I can speak for all of us when I say that we're quite content with the current agreement between our families. None of us wants to rock that boat right now.”
Everyone bobs their heads in agreement, but all eyes turn to Rose. As the newcomer, he's the only other one who's been encroaching on territories.
He chuckles and raises his hands. “It wasn't me. I'm happy with my agreement with Valentina as it stands now. And you all know the only areas I've been interested in belong to the Mexican gangs and cartels. I don't have any plans to mess with the system that’s been in place here for so long. Not with any of you.”
His words don't seem to have the desired effect.
McGinnis clenches his fist on the table. “You better watch yourself, Rose. Just like we came together here to discuss the Albanian problem, we could just as easily be discussing you.”
The Colombian leans back in his chair and steeples his hands in front of his mouth with a grin, seemingly unfazed by the threat.
Valentina sighs. “Let's just discuss what we came here for.”
“Yes,” McGinnis nods, “something needs to be done about Michael. And fast or—”
A door on the far side of the warehouse creaks open, and the devil himself steps through with his arms raised, several of his men trailing closely behind. “Well, well, well, it appears my invitation to the party got lost in the mail.”
What the fuck?
I cast a worried look at Warwick. “What's he doing here? How did he know about the meeting?”
Warwick shrugs, and Cutter’s glare bounces between Michael and us—an acknowledgment that he's prepared to end the threat if need be.
Valentina pushes to her feet and turns to face Michael as he approaches the table. “What are you doing here?”
He directs his cool smile at everyone at the table. “I would think that's obvious.”
Kamenev climbs to his feet, clenching his fists. “What's obvious is that you’ve been a thorn in everyone's side since you set foot in Chicago.”
Michael chuckles and shakes his head as he pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “Let's not be overly dramatic. We are all just trying to find our place in this world.”
McGinnis snorts and shakes his head. “And you seem to think that your place is in our territories.”
The head of the Albanians—the man we made a deal with to ensure the human trafficking operation that took Eva was finally shut down—lights up a cigarette and shoves the lighter back into his pocket. A slight smile spreads across his face before he takes a long drag. “The way I see it, there's room for everyone.”
Kamenev slams his fist against the table and scowls. “Bullshit! You're not going to stop until every single one of us is taken down.”
Michael’s shoulders rise and fall nonchalantly. “Those are your words, not mine.”
Cutter takes a step toward him, positioning himself perfectly to take Michael out once and for all, but Valentina places a hand on Cutter’s arm, warning him off.
She doesn’t want to start a gun battle any more than we do and appears to be more diplomatic than her Russian and Irish counterparts. Rose hasn’t said a word. He just leans back in his chair, watching the drama unfold.
Michael waves at an empty chair next to Valentina on the right. “Why don’t I sit, and we can all have a nice little chat about the situation?”
“A nice little chat?” Kamenev leans over the table. “You really are off your rocker, aren’t you? What makes you think, for one second, that any of us will sit here with you and—”
The blast cuts off anything he has to say and sends me flying back against the concrete as the entire room explodes.
20
Gabriella
The sliding glass doors open, and I step into the chilly antiseptic-scented air. My hand shakes as I dig my phone from my pocket so I can listen to the message from Nicki again.
“Gabby, it's Nicki. There's been an explosion. I don't have all the details. I just know Rion was hurt. I thought you’d want to know. St. Francis Hospital in Chicago. Look for me when you get there.”
The message ends, and I pull the phone away from my ear to call her.
Shit.
The battery is almost dead.
And there are four more missed calls from Robert. Making a total of ten in the last couple of hours.
I don’t have time for his bullshit even if I had enough juice to call him back. The possibility that Rion could be seriously injured has turned my stomach the entire three-hour drive down here and kept me from wanting to deal with Robert.
What the hell was he doing in Chicago anyway?
Probably something for Valentina. He’s been radio silent for the last few days, just like he warned me he would be, and going to the bar and pretending everything was okay was absolute torture. I’m learning more about the crew slowly—about how they work and why they do this—but the several day hiatus didn’t help me come to any resolution for the problem.
I scan the area immediately inside the doors and see a familiar blonde in one of the chairs in the waiting area. Nicki glances over her shoulder and sees me. She jumps to her feet and meets me halfway across the vast open space.
“What’s happening? Where’s Rion?”
She leads me to a secluded corner of the waiting area. “There was an explosion.”
“Where?”
“A warehouse somewhere not far from here.”
A warehouse?
Maybe one of Valentina’s. Or maybe this has nothing to do with her at all and he was down here doing something legit for Warwick. Unlikely, but possible.
“How did you find out?”
She blows out a heavy breath. “Rion was there with my brother and Warwick and a bunch of other people. Cutter still had me listed as his emergency contact in his phone, so they called me, apparently for no reason because he isn’t even here anymore. By the time I got here, he was already long gone with his girlfriend.”
I shake my head to clear it. I must have heard her wrong. “Cutter is your brother?”
“Yeah, but we haven't spoken in a long time. Things didn’t go very well when he got discharged, and we kind of had it out. And the fact that he’s working for my ex doesn’t help anything.”
Shit. This certainly explains a lot.
I knew she had dated Warwick. Her hostility toward Rion seemed to stem from that, but now there’s a whole other layer I had no idea existed.
“Is everyone okay?”
She shrugs. “Cutter got checked out and left AMA from what I can tell. He isn’t answering my phone calls. I assume he’s fine or doesn’t care if he dies. They won’t tell me anything about anyone else because I’m not family.”
Dammit.
“Which means they probably won't tell me either.”
There are other ways of getting information. If my phone weren’t dead, I could call Robert. But I don’t need him butting into this. It would open a whole can of worms I’m not ready to address yet.
I scan the waiting room for any other familiar faces but don’t see any.
Shit.
A doctor in a white coat approaches and surveys the area. “The family of Orion Gates?”
“That's us.” I rush over to him. “Is he okay?”
The doctor looks between Nicki and me. “And you are?”
“His fiancée.” The lie tumbles from my lips easily. Maybe because I partly wish it were true. Also because I hope it’s enough to get him to talk to me.
“And she is?” He motions to Nicki.
“My best friend. It’s fine to talk in front of her.”
The doctor nods his agreement. “Well, Mr. Gates suffered a concussion in the explosion. Some cuts and bruises from shrapnel and a few stitches, but all in all, it's nothing to be worried about. We’ll keep him here overnight for observation and release him tomorrow unless an issue arises.”
A relieved whoosh of breath shoots from my lungs. “Oh, thank God.”
Nicki wraps an arm around me. “What about Warwick Pike?”
He may be her ex, but she still cares about him. It’s written all over her face.
The doctor offers an apologetic smile. “He's not my patient, but I'll see what I can find out for you.”
“Can I see Rion?” I didn’t mean for that to sound so desperate, but this worry isn’t going to abate until I can see with my own two eyes that he’s all right.
The doctor nods. “Yes. He's in room 107. Down the hallway to the left.”
I turn to Nicki as the doctor walks off. “Are you coming?”
She shakes her head. “No, I’m going to keep trying to call Cutter. His phone is off. And I want to wait for any news about Warwick.”
It’s probably better she doesn’t come with me anyway. Who knows what I might find when I go see Rion. Those two don’t exactly have a great relationship going. She gives him alcohol. He pays her. That’s about the extent of the friendliness between them. He probably won’t appreciate me bringing her back to see him when he’s banged up like this.
I take off down the hall probably a little too fast, but I can't stop myself. I have to see him. It feels like I haven’t been able to breathe since I got Nicki’s message. I abandoned the bar—kicked everyone out and shut it down just so I could drive down here to be with him. Smitty will probably fire me, but what does it matter anymore?
My pounding feet echo on the tile floor, and I skid to a stop outside the cracked door of room 107. I push it open all the way.
I've seen a lot of bad shit, but Rion sitting in that bed brings tears to my eyes. “Rion?”
His head moves up. A white strip lies over one eyebrow, probably covering stitches, and various scratches and bandages cover his arms and chest. “Sugar? What are you doing here?”
“Nicki called me.” I want to race across the space between us and throw myself at him, but something in the wary look he’s giving me tells me that wouldn’t be a good idea right now. “What happened?”
I can’t tell if he’s not happy to see me or just reeling from what happened.
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, wincing at the motion. “It looks like I got blown up.”
“Well, no shit. Where were you?”
His gaze hardens, and the hand resting on his lap clenches into a fist. “A meeting.”
He doesn't say anything else. He doesn't need to. If he's not volunteering information, it's not something he wants me to know. Which only makes it more important for me to find out. He’s not in the chatting mood now, though, so it will have to wait ‘til later.
I move over to the bed but still resist reaching out to touch him like I so desperately want to. “Are you okay?”
He looks down at himself. “A lot better than some people.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look,” he squeezes his eyes shut, either in frustration or pain. “I really don't want to talk now. I just want to go home.”
“Home?” I scan him from head to toe. “You have a concussion, and you look like shit. The doctor mentioned something about you staying the night.”
“But I'm not staying.” His words are firm, leaving no room for argument. “I’m a medic, Gabs. I can look after myself. Plus, I have Preacher and the rest of the guys there.”
This man is frustrating as hell.
I turn away from him, so he doesn’t see my irritation. Motion in the hallway draws my attention, and my eyes lock on the last person I expect to see here.
Robert. What the hell is he doing here?
He motions with his head for me to come out.
Shit.
“I'm going to go check in with Nicki. She's waiting to hear about Warwick.”
“He's fine. He got banged up a little, as did Cutter and Valentina. E is the only one of us who really took a hit. He got a piece of shrapnel in his neck, but I was able to stop the bleeding long enough to get him here alive.”
Jesus.
I motion toward the door. “I’ll make sure she knows that. She’s worried. I'll be right back.” I turn back to him before I step out. “You better be here when I get back.”
He scowls at me. I should've known he wouldn’t be a good patient. I force a smile and step into the hallway. A nurse passes me with a kind look, and I scan to my left and right and see Robert waiting for me down a few rooms. He inclines his head across the hall to another hallway. No one else is around, so I follow him.
He leans against the wall, waiting for me, looking smug and pissed at the same time, though that’s nothing unusual for him.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I keep my voice to a low whisper even though there isn’t anyone in sight. Getting caught talking to Robert would definitely be a bad thing.
“Maybe if you answered any of my text messages or listened to my voicemails, you would know.”
