Page 9 of Property of Shotgun
Holding her shoes in one hand, I use my other to shake out the shirt, laying it on top of the grass in front of her. My eyes take notice of the pale pink polish on her toes before I pop up and resume my position behind her. Heat creeps up the back of my neck as I feel the heavy weight of everyone’s stare.
She glances down at the shirt, then steps forward, placing her feet over it. Turning her head, her eyes find mine over her shoulder, and she whispers, “Thank you.”
But when the words hit my ears, it’s Irish’s voice I hear.
After the burial, the visiting chapters returned to our clubhouse, and some of the presidents sat down with Biggie, offering their assistance with the war. Some offered weaponry, others offered manpower. It was generous of them, but before we could take them up on any of it, we needed a plan of attack, and Biggie owed me a sit down.
The last few days have been chaotic, but now, with Irish laid to rest, and the other Kings on their way home, it was time to get down to business. The club couldn’t stay on lockdown forever, and I was hungry for revenge.
“Hey, Shotgun, I’m heading out,” Bella says, diverting my attention from the beer I just opened. Guido stands closely behind, his hands shoved in his pockets, eyes stuck on his boots.
Once upon a time their parents dated each other, and after they broke up, Guido and Bella remained friends. A couple of years ago, Bella became a trauma nurse, and every once in a while, when mayhem strikes, Guido calls on Bella. She’s removed a bullet from Stacks and stitched almost every guy here. Us Kings have a soft spot for the girl.
“Club is still on lockdown.”
Guido lifts his head, meeting my gaze. “She’s got a shift at the hospital.”
I nod. “I assume you’re going to stick around there then.”
“That’s the plan.”
Normally Bella would argue, but I think she’s shaken up by Irish’s death. She points to my left wrist. “Do you want me to change the bandages before I go? They look like they’re starting to bleed again.”
I glance at the gauze and shake my head. “I’ll be fine, babe. Appreciate you.”
“Okay, well, Jade went to put the boys to bed so I didn’t get to say goodbye. I told Guido, but it’s worth repeating—if she needs any help, I’m just a phone call away.”
“Thank you, Bells. I be sure to pass the message along.”
She turns to Guido. “Am I allowed to drive my car or am I riding on the back of your bike in my scrubs?”
“The wind don’t care what you wear when you ride it, babe,” Guido says as he removes one hand from his pocket and presses against Bella’s lower back. He tips his chin. “See you later.”
Lifting my beer, I tip the neck toward him before bringing it to my lips and taking a long swig. From the corner of my eye I spot Biggie walking toward me. He rounds the bar, tagging a bottle of bourbon from the shelf, then reaches for a glass.
“You want some?”
I shake my head. “I’m good with the beer.”
“Suit yourself.” He starts fixing his drink, dumping a handful of ice into the glass before he fills it generously.
“We need to talk.”
His eyes lift and lock with mine. “It’s been a long day.”
I lean forward, propping my forearms on top of the bar. “Every day is long when you’re at war. You put me at your left, in his chair after I watched him die. I need to know where we go from here, Biggie.”
He stares at me for a beat, his nostrils flaring as he lifts his glass and takes a drink, nearly draining the contents of the glass in one gulp. He sets the glass down and eyes my wrist.
“We don’t go anywhere until you can throttle an engine without bleeding all over your Harley.” He sighs, swiping a hand over his face. “I know that ain’t what you want to hear, but it’s all I got to give right now. I have a meeting with the Mondestino brothers in the morning.”
Vito Mondestino is the head of the Campanello crime family, and his brother Bruno is a foreman at the Longshoreman’s Association. They were the ones seeking control of the Brooklyn Seaport, not us. But in Vito’s quest to expand his territory, he made a deal with the Kings. We supplied him with the weapons his organization used on a raid targeting the Albanians.
We scrub our guns before we deliver them to anyone so I’m not fucking sure how the Albanians tracked them back to us, but when Irish and I went to deliver a new batch to the docks, where Bruno was supposed to be there ready and waiting to collect, we were ambushed.
“I don’t trust the Mondestino brothers as far as I can throw them,” I share. “Our guns were clean, Biggie. There is no fucking way the Albanians could trace them back to us without someone in the Campanello family giving them the intel.”
“You think I don’t know that?” he asks, his tone gravely. “Do you have any idea what we’re looking at if that’s the case? We’re talking about taking out one of the most notorious crime families on the East Coast. I don’t got a problem doing it—but it needs to be executed perfectly, and it can’t be done before we drain them dry of everything they got. I’m anticipating tomorrow’s meeting will result in them giving up the Albanians. The way I see it, they set us up so that we would do their dirty work and take them out.”
