Tomorrow will take care of itself.
Chapter 50
Dutch
Two Days Later
Nowthateveryonewhowent to Chicago has returned and had time to rest, get caught up, and been apprised of our plans, we’re getting ready to move on the safe house. We need to know if The Duke left anything behind, if there’s some small clue to tell us if she has some sort of plan in place or if this was all just a setup.
Ryan’s chomping at the bit to get going, desperate for any sort of clue that will lead him to The Duke.
We stole a few precious hours of silliness during Kian’s “sleepover.” After getting drunk on tequila and badly singing karaoke, Cruz and I had slept on the sofa, while Ryan took one mattress and Jase and Kian the other. But the following morning, the anger and guilt had come rushing back.
Ryan has distanced himself, barely speaking to anyone. Even Kian has lost his trademark grin, his mood somber and serious. There’s a blanket of apprehension and solemnity hanging over us like a dark cloud.
We unanimously decided that not all of us will be going to the safe house. There’s a possibility it could be a trap. If The Duke or another mole told Vincenzo about the safe house, we have to assume the worst. We could find people waiting for us. Unfortunately, there’s no way to know, and the mounting frustration is getting to everyone.
We’re currently packed into the conference room as I once more go over who my cousins are. The ones we need to prepare for and the ones we don’t. I may have been away from my father for a number of years, but I know how he thinks.
My cousins are disposable to him; hence why he sent Andrea on the plane with us, and why he sent Stefano after me the day I took off on my bike. He doesn’t give a shit if any of them come back alive.
If I was Vincenzo, I would send the rest of my cousins—the ones old enough, anyway— to the safe house. I would have them capture anyone that was there and send them to Cesare to torture for any further information. Then, I would have them hunker down and wait for us to come knocking.
I may be wrong about him sending my cousins; perhaps he’ll send his goons instead. Either way, I don’t anticipate for a moment that it will be quiet and empty, just waiting for us to discover its secrets.
Nate and Jase are going to stay behind. Jase to erase any camera footage if needed, Nate because he’s our ace up our sleeve. We can’t let Vincenzo find out about him before we’re ready for him to.
Susannah is not happy being on the list of people getting left behind. She glares at me with her hands firmly set on her hips. “I came here to help you, not to be left behind like a disobedient child. I’m tired of being left out, Dutch. Let me help.”
Grabbing her hand, I drag her into the corner, away from the others. “I know it’s hard, and I’m sorry. But you would make too good of a hostage. Can you imagine what Vincenzo could force Harris to do if he captured an FBI agent? Plus, if anything goes wrong, you’re one of the only ones that have a direct line to him. If we need his help, you’re the one that can get him here the fastest.”
Susannah quirks a brow and narrows her eyes. “Then why aren’t you staying home? The same argument can be used for you.”
Sighing, I hang my head. “I know. But I’m already responsible for so many deaths. I can’t have yours on my hands too. He’s my father, and this is my fight. I have to be there. Please understand.”
“Fine,” she spits, “but you’re taking the twins with you for added protection. Your uncle sent us to be useful, but so far, we’ve just sat around twiddling our thumbs. So, I insist they go with you.”
“Deal. Oh, and Susannah? I’m pretty sure the three of you have been doing much more interesting things than twiddling thumbs.” I elbow her in the side, and she sputters a laugh.
“Shut up,” she groans, a pink flush spreading across her cheeks. Aww, she’s adorable.
A little over an hour later, we’re filing into the two black vans waiting for us in the garage. Each of us is dressed in tactical gear; steel-gray combat pants and jackets, bulletproof vests, and gloves. Helmets complete with comms devices hang from our arms as we climb into the vans, AR-15s strapped to our backs, vests heavy with ammunition.
We look like members of SWAT. Or a terrorist organization. We’re not taking any chances today—we’re determined Vincenzo will not get his hands on any of us.
Ryan has selected drivers outside of our little group to stay behind with the vans. We may need a quick getaway, and we need all the firepower we can get. Leaving some of us behind to drive would be wasteful.
Tessa takes a page out of Rebecca’s book and is unusually calm. Thank fuck for that—the last thing we need is for her to go all Harley Quinn on us. Within minutes we’re underway, the three vans sliding through Manhattan’s traffic with unusual ease. I can’t stop my knee from bouncing as the adrenaline begins to pump through my veins.
The van is quiet, each of us occupied with our own thoughts. I gaze out the window, watching mindlessly as the buildings race by. My jaw clenches at the sight of the crowds of people outside, enjoying the late spring sunshine. I don’t want any innocent deaths on my hands today, and although I don’t believe in a higher power, I cross my fingers and make a wish anyway.
Please don’t let any innocents get caught up in this.
Before we know it, we’re pulling onto a quiet tree-lined street in Greenwich Village. The vans stop in front of a brick townhouse with white pillars fronting the doorway. We get out and quietly close the doors behind us.
Shading my eyes with my hand against the bright sunlight, I spin around slowly but notice nothing amiss. I notice Eric and Ryan doing the same, and when I meet their eyes, they nod.
Nothing appears out of the ordinary, but I can feel eyes on me, and a droplet of sweat slides down my back. Ryan signals for us to put our helmets on, and we unstrap our assault rifles, checking one last time that they are loaded and ready.
