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As I regain control of my breaths, wrapped tight against Kellan on the sofa, all I can think is that he may have committed a literal crime to get me here, but there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
5
KELLAN
The meeting with Rossi rolls around far faster than I want it to.
Admittedly, I have been too wrapped up in Kacie to track time or plan the way I normally would. I’ve spent the entire drive over to the meeting place on the outskirts of the city thinking of her. I can hardly bring her with me, not to such a dangerous and unknown scenario, so she’s back at the safe house.
The rest of my closest circle is with me, Easton driving, Darragh and Louis in the backseat, and enough weaponry between us to stock a small army. This talk is supposed to be a peace negotiation, but I wasn’t born yesterday. I’ve been in this business enough years to know that even if you’re meeting with your allies, you don’t go unarmed. Rossi and I seem to share the goal of creating peace between our sides, but it would only take one word from him to make this whole thing go sour.
The car rolls to a stop outside the crumbling warehouse, and we make a quick exit from the car. Louis stays back, swapping out with Easton, in case we need a fast getaway.
The air is balmy and the sky is an array of pinks, oranges, and deep purple as the sun descends below the skyline. I inhale deeply, pushing my emotions to the side and settling into the mask that presents nothing but calm and serious. Right now, I can’t afford to be perceived as anything less than the dangerous, driven leader of the Irish Mafia.
With a swift nod to my men, I stride towards the warehouse and through the propped-open service door.
It’s dark inside, just enough light to be able to see the men lined up on the other side of the building. I recognize Rossi immediately, standing at the head of the pack, his hands clasped in front of him. His expression is relaxed, but one of the men behind him glares at me when I walk in, setting me on edge.
I feel Easton and Darragh tense as they flank me, facing off against the Italians. For a second, nobody speaks or moves, awareness straightening our spines and sharpening our vision.
“Rossi,” I greet, wanting to be the one to speak first. “How nice to see you face to face.”
“Indeed.” Rossi nods, then gestures towards me. “I trust your injury has healed nicely?”
I bristle slightly at the mention of the stab wound hisman inflicted but refuse to show it. “It has,” I answer, the truth thanks to Kacie. “You asked to meet to prevent more issues like that, did you not?”
“I don’t desire a territory war, and I assume you feel the same,” Rossi says, and I nod in agreement. “Things have gotten out of hand, and it’s time we reel it back in, no?”
“Then I assume your men will retreat from my territory and cease fucking with our supply routes and storage?” I ask, raising a brow at Rossi, uncowed. The Italian laughs, inclining his bald head in my direction in acknowledgment.
“If I can assume your men will stop stepping onto our side to pick fights?” Rossi shoots back, a slight tilt to his lips like he’s amused. I am, too, but I won’t show it.
There’s a little more back and forth, details hammered out, but by the end, I feel confident that we both have the same goal at heart. Neither of us has time for gang wars or street fights after all.
“It’s a deal, then?” I ask, holding my hand out for Rossi to shake.
“A deal,” he agrees, stepping towards me to take my hand.
But before we can seal the deal, one of his men steps out of line behind him.
“We deserve more than this bullshit!” he shouts, metal flashing as he raises a gun. “I won’t submit to these bastards! This city should be ours!”
Thebangreverberates through the building as he pulls the trigger. Chaos erupts as a fiery pain grazes my arm, but I’m already moving.
Behind me, someone shouts out as another shot goes off, and I pull out my gun, aiming at the man who dared to shoot at me and mine. But Rossi, to my surprise, beats me to it, his aim steady and true as he takes down his own man with no hesitation.
Silence descends as the man slumps to the floor and Rossi lowers his weapon.
If ever there was a sign that Rossi means to keep good on our deal, shooting one of his own men for daring to aim at us is a damn good one. Before I have time to say anything about it, though, Easton shouts my name.
“Kellan!”
The fear and urgency in his voice turns my blood to ice. I spin on my heel and rush over to where Darragh is collapsed on the floor, a pool of scarlet-red blood coating the concrete around him.
“What happened?!” I yell as I get to his side, meeting Darragh’s pained eyes.
“Fucker got a shot off at me,” Darragh growls through gritted teeth. Easton has his hands pressed down over Darragh’s right shoulder, where the bullet must have hit. I’m not a doctor, but I know it can’t be a good sign that Darragh’s two shades paler than usual and the blood around us seems to grow by the second.
