“You do know how fucked up you all are, right?” Mark asks, astonished. “Most people don’t have this conversation while fighting for their lives.”
We all give half shrugs. “Eh, you learn to see the humor in things. Even death.”
“Not dying would be great, idiot.” A smooth Italian accent drifts over the comm line.
That is not something I am expecting.
“If fake dying sent Ava on a rampage, I don’t want to know what she would do if you actually died.”
Vas snickers. “Bury him with his balls in his mouth.”
Dante laughs. “We’re coming in,” he tells us. “My men are the ones wearing the striped caps. Don’t shoot them, please.”
“No promises,” I mutter petulantly. Fucking Italian is never going to let me live this down. Within minutes, his men storm the parking lot and pour into the club. Fucking perfect. It doesn’t take long for us to clear out the rest of the enemy combatants.
“Fuck.” Vas wipes at his forehead, trying to keep the blood from pouring down his sweat-covered face and into his eyes. “That was a workout.”
We all stand in the middle of the club, surrounded by a sea of dead men. None of whom I recognize.
“Who the fuck are they?” Maksim voices the question rattling through my brain. “They don’t have any tags. No gang signs or insignia.”
It is disturbing to know that we have no way of identifying who has sent the men. At first, I thought they were sent by Sheila and Remus, but now, I am beginning to question that.
So are my men.
“Can we all agree that these soldiers aren’t McDonough soldiers?” Vas sighs. We all nod. Even Dante doesn’t believe they could have done this. There are too many men, and they are too well trained. The men at the mansion when we rescued Ava were mafioso type. Most likely those who come with them from Boston.
The men who surround us now are specially trained. Former soldiers and black ops from every nationality lie dead across the floor of my club.
“You think it’s them?” Nicolai asks. “That secret society or whatever.”
Gritting my teeth, I nod, accepting that it is the only thing that makes sense. They have attacked us in broad daylight at a public venue. Whoever they are, they are not messing around.
“Hey, boss,” Mark calls frantically over the comms. “The bar’s silent alarm was just tripped.”
Fuck. If the same people who attack us are also hitting McDonoughs, they won’t stand a chance. We got lucky that Dante had been monitoring our comm frequency like the paranoid Italian don he is. Something we will be talking about in detail later, but for now, I am just grateful for the backup.
“My men will stay here and work on cleanup,” Dante assures me. I nod as we pile into one of the SUVs.
Fuck all if I am going to lose Ava.
Not when things have been going so well.
Taking out my phone, I dial the one person I know can save her if I can’t be there in time.
“Ava’s in trouble, Kenzi.” I don’t bother with pleasantries. “McDonoughs.”
That is all I manage to say, and then the line goes dead.
Hold on, Red. We’re coming for you.
forty-nine
“You didn’t, by chance, happen to keep any of the fuckers alive, did you?” I ask my father as I help him dispose of the unwanted trash in the back of one of the vans. He just grunts, which I take to mean no, he hadn’t. “Would have been nice if you did.”
“You could have kept Christian alive.”
“Pfft.” I dismiss that real quick. “He would have been useless. Plus, that was all Kenzi.”