Page 144 of Cook

Angel’s nostrils flared, but he stood taller. “You want our help to take down the Gambinos, the trafficking stops. No more enslaving the Kwatsaan people. No more selling them for sex.”

Bou added, “Better yet, no trafficking humans. At. All.”

Massimo huffed, like this was a hardship. They had literally stolen kids, used them, sold them like animals. They were caging these people for sex and the devil only knew what else.

Caging. Fuck. I swiped a hand through my hair. That’s why cages were on Maddie’s off-limits list. Disgust curled in my belly over what had happened to Maddie and others. My hands balled into fists, ready to attack.

“Fine,” agreed Massimo, “but—”

“Nah,” barked Celt. “Still not good ’nough. We get him.” Celt raised his hand and pointed at Mercer, fingers cocked like a pretend gun.

The weasel’s eyes went wide, and he pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Not so smart now, huh?” I smirked in his direction. “Betcha wish you were staring down one of my stupid shirts now.”

Massimo threw out a hand as though he’d hold Snakes back, but Mercer slunk behind him. Fucking coward.

“As I was saying,” Massimo said. “I have one more stipulation.”

I ground my teeth. Weren’t we risking enough by agreeing to aid in arms trafficking?

“In the Mafia, we make family bonds to seal deals,” said Massimo. “I propose two—a marriage, of course. And the second would be an officer’s position in your little club.”

“Who the fuck for?” snapped Wilde.

“My little brother. He rides, and he’s a bit lost after his return from the war zone.”

Wilde and Angel shared a look as Celt and I stared Snakes down. I needed to be sure he kept his hands clear of that whip. He had been too quiet, and I didn’t know how. From what I’d seen of him so far, the man liked to hear himself speak.

Sloan Mercer, however, smirked at me over Parisi’s shoulder, as if this was all a fun game. But I had a sneaking suspicion we were going to spill his blood before this night ended.

“We need to discuss first,” said Wilde as The Ridge MC Prez, and Celt bobbed his head.

“Of course,” said Massimo. “And for intruding on your meeting, I’ll invite you to a meeting with the Capos.”

“And my mother?” I asked.

“She’ll be at the penthouse when you arrive,” said Massimo. He placed a card on the island in the kitchenette and backed toward the door. “She’ll be safe until then and well-cared for by my medical team. Assuming all goes well, you have my assurance you can take her home once we’ve arrived at an agreement.”

I didn’t believe she was well for a second. “How the fuck am I supposed to trust that?”

“I’ll have her give you a call when I’m back in Vegas. Fair?”

Shoving my hands into my hair and pulling, I worked to calm myself. I was proving to be quite the failure tonight. It was my job to protect both Mom and Maddie, and I’d fucked up on both accounts. Mom was probably freaking out and diving into her cooking routine. They had probably thrown off her whole schedule, and she was likely obsessing over what little she could still control.

“Fair,” I vaguely heard Celt’s voice answer on my behalf.

“Have a good night,” said Massimo, and he and Mercer started for the door.

That’s when I heard the click.

The safety on Celt’s gun—off.

“He stays or no motherfucking deal.”

Wilde took a step back, deferring to Celt.

Massimo stepped to the side and Mercer turned to push through the swinging door from Bou’s kitchenette into her shop. Celt lowered his aim and shot the weasel in the knee. Screams and moans rolled through the shop as Snakes fell on the other side of the swinging door.

---