“I’m seeing something on the cameras,” Ciel said in our ears as I turned down a street in Italian territory. We weren’t far from the penthouse, but we still had to drive through at least ten blocks.
“What is it?” I frowned, looking at Caspian. “Max’s men? Did Giulio betray us already?”
New York was busy—it’s not like these streets were abandoned. But if Ciel thought something looked off, then he was most likely right.
“No, I don’t think so,” Ciel replied. His keyboard clicked in the background. “I think it’s South Americans. Might be the Alacrán Cartel. A group of four motorcycles and a car.”
“Fuck. Really?” Caspian looked out the side and back windows. “What are they doing here?”
“It looks like they’re headed back where you came from. Toward Russian territory.”
Caspian and I exchanged a glance. We were both eager to get home, but the Russians were our allies now.
“Goddamnit,” Caspian grumbled, rubbing a hand down his chin. “Can you get a message to Makarov?”
“Yeah, I’m updating him now.”
“Ask him what’s nearby,” I added. “Maybe they’re headed to hit a warehouse or something.”
“Wynn, I’m patching Makarov through to you.” With that, my phone vibrated. I swiped over the screen.
“Makarov? It’s Wynn.”
“What is it?” he asked, voice hard.
“We’ve got eyes on some South Americans headed to your territory.” I read him the closest cross streets. “Do you have anything nearby? Anything they’re looking for?”
“Fuck. Yes, I have a business front we use for processing drugs a few blocks from there. A laundromat.” He started barking orders in Russian in the background. “Are they Alacrán fuckers coming after me again?”
“It seems highly likely, but we’re not certain.”
Makarov swore. “We just got a new shipment in. Delivered there less than an hour ago.”
I relayed the information to Caspian. He raised an eyebrow in question before pulling his guns from his shoulder holsters. My hand gripped the steering wheel tighter as a smile turned up the corner of my mouth. It had been a few days since I’d seen some action.
“Now how exactly would they know a shipment had been delivered? In less than an hour?” Caspian asked.
“Shit,” Ciel hissed. “Could be Volpe’s hacker.”
I exchanged a glance with Cas before I spoke into the phone. “We can get there first. Give me the address.”
My phone dinged in my ear. “Just texted it to you.”
“Meet us there.” I turned the car around, following the map’s directions. “And Makarov? You need to double-check all your tech. We know Volpe is working with an elite hacker.”
He cursed in Russian. “Thanks for the heads-up. We’ll clean everything out.” He shouted more as car doors slammed. “I’m at least twenty minutes away. Worse, with traffic. But we’ll be there.” He grunted. “Hey, at least this alliance is coming in handy already.”
I chuckled. “The start of a valuable relationship.”
I hung up the phone, tucking it back into the pocket of my jeans. “Ciel, keep an eye on those motorcycles. I want to know exactly where they are and what they’re doing.”
“I’m following them through the feeds. Here, take this route instead,” he replied, my phone dinging again. I tapped the screen. “If you follow that, you’ll miss some traffic, and catch up quicker. You’re only a few minutes apart.”
When we pulled up to the address, the South Americans already had it surrounded.
A dingyLaundromatsign hung above the entrance door, its light barely shining more than a candle. Dark paint covered the windows with fake specials and prices painted in white overtop. It was impossible to see inside. The front door’s glass was already shot out, with the metal frame hanging off its hinges.
“A fucking shootout on a city street,” Cas growled, cocking his guns. “The cops are probably already on their way.”
