Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 132791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
“We have no natural border with the Bratva,” I reasoned. “And they’re willing to give concessions. For one thing, we’re taking all the ammo we found here today, even though they one-upped and ambushed us.”
“That’s right.” Alex’s stare swung between the two Ferrante brothers in disdain. “Let’s all pretend what separates them from being great warriors is not enough bullets.”
The Camorra and Bratva were natural rivals. Their mutual hate spanned centuries down each bloodline.
“Dead people make great enemies. Live ones, not so much.” Achilles spat on the floor, his gaze never wavering from Alex. “He’s a loose end, Callaghan. I don’t like those.”
“We’ll set some ground rules regarding New York. It’s a better deal than offing these fuckers and waiting for someone to take over and avenge them,” I replied tersely, turning to Alex. “I trust your word.”
“Well, I don’t,” Achilles said. “I’m taking something—someone—as a guarantee.” He looked between Jeremie and Slava. His eyes settled on Jeremie. He was busted up and bleeding, but looked proud as hell. A good soldier. One you wanted on your side in a war. “This one. I always wanted a tank.”
“Te pokhozh na litso so shramom,” Jeremie said with a smile.
“The fuck did he say?” Achilles narrowed his eyes.
“He said it’d be his pleasure,” I translated.
Actually, what he said was You look like Scarface. But I’d had enough bloodbaths for one day.
“Take him, and do what with him, exactly?” Alex asked through a clenched jaw.
“Why, find him a nice Italian girl to marry. This is how alliances are made.” Achilles patted the side of his tactical black pants, fishing out a cigarette.
Alex gave him a flat stare. “An Italian girl won’t do.”
“And why the shit is that?”
“He’s prone to headaches and has a limit on his credit card.”
Every Bratva soldier in the room laughed.
Achilles grinned serenely. His smile promised pain.
“Sounds like a real pussy. Don’t worry. We’ll make a man out of him.”
My phone rang again. Jesus fuck, Fintan needed to familiarize himself with the concept of working hours. I pulled it out.
Only this time I saw a different name on the screen.
Lila.
My wife never called me for obvious reasons. She texted.
I slid a finger over the screen and then pressed the phone to my ear. Didn’t speak. The meaning of it slammed into me all at once.
If someone kidnapped her…
“Tiernan.” I heard Fintan on the other end of the line. He sounded choked up, panting like he ran from New York to Vegas. “It’s Lila and Tierney. There’s…there’s been an accident.” He wheezed. “Lila’s in a bad way.”
All the blood drained from my face. I squeezed my phone to the point where it almost burst into fucking pieces.
“Where is she?”
“In the hospital now. Tierney, too—”
“Which hospital?” I swiveled to signal Luca to call for the airplane.
Luca turned around and made the call. Achilles curved a questioning brow. I’d always been a cold-blooded creature, but right now, I felt like ripping every inch of my flesh, I was burning so hot. The only reason I wasn’t on my knees, a bleeding fucking mess, was because I needed to fix whatever happened to her, make sure that she was okay, before I could let myself fall apart.
“Saint Andrews on Fifth. Someone T-boned them. They say the baby’s in danger.” Fintan’s voice was thick and scratchy with panic. “The bleeding…”
“Is she conscious?”
“No.”
I closed my eyes. The room spun, anyway. A black hole sucking me into darkness. I couldn’t fucking breathe. Worse still, I didn’t see the point in doing so.
Lila.
Lila.
Lila.
I forgot what to do. What to ask. How to function.
“Are you there now?” I strangled out.
“Yeah.”
“Put her doctor on the phone.”
I heard shuffling, and awkward explaining, and the back and forth between Fintan and a male doctor.
“Dr. Delgado here. Are you Mrs. Callaghan’s husband?”
“I am.”
“I understand that you’re out of town? Vegas?”
“I’ll be there in two hours.”
“How do you—”
“Just fucking come out with it. Tell me what’s happening.” I was already rushing toward the door, leaving an active warfare between two Mafia organizations behind.
It all seemed so tedious all of a sudden.
The Rasputins. The Bratva. Honor. My own boo-hoo childhood trauma.
More money, more territory, more weapons, more drugs. More, more, more, when none of it mattered. None of it made me happier. Only she ever did.
“Mrs. Callaghan’s spleen was ruptured during the car accident. The vehicle slammed into her side of the car. We are now managing her blood loss. She also suffers from multiple lacerations and a concussion.”
“Will she be okay?”
The Ferrante brothers tried catching up with my pace as I made my way to our van.
“She suffered some blood loss, and we’re monitoring the concussion closely. But we have every reason to think she’ll pull through.”
“And the baby?”
Silence stretched on the other side of the line. It was only then that I realized I didn’t want this baby to die. Or rather, not to live. Lila was attached to it. She glowed when she caressed her belly. And if she could love something that symbolized the fucked-up shit that happened to her, then by God, so could my sorry arse.