Page 61 of One Love

“It seems Cook took it upon himself to carry out the order once Zavier came into the city. He knew he was a relation of the original Greeks and, I’m speculating here, he thought he could finally rise up in the ranks of the Irish if he completed thisorder. Fucker was too dumb to realize the eyeball taking was only a Yiannis thing and we’d catch on real fast that it wasn’t the Greeks making a comeback.”

When Marco chose Ray to be his underboss, his second in command, I knew it was a great choice. Ray is sharp as a blade and resourceful as fuck. His reports are always so articulate, which is completely unexpected just to look at him. His sharp nose that’s clearly been broken one too many times, his unkempt hair peppered with dark gray, and the casual hoodies he practically lives in don’t scream “mafia”, but he is one of us to his very core.

Tommy, Eddie, and George are all nodding, listening intently to what Ray has to say, while Marco appears unperturbed, taking everything in and quietly assessing.

“He wasn’t working alone, either. Petey Callaghan, Ronan’s grandson, was helping. Between them, they injected their victims somewhere in or around Eddie’s bar by bumping into them. Then they waited. And we know the rest.” Ray shrugs with a heavy sigh.

Eddie’s deep rumble of anger can be felt throughout the room, but we all know why and I’m actually surprised he’s even here. Most of the soldiers that were taken were his, one being his son, and he and his wife have been holed up in their house since it happened. There were a few of Tommy’s soldiers killed too, but only the ones that frequented Eddie’s bar.

“We’re pretty sure Cook was the instigator because there haven’t been any more murders since he was introduced to Hell almost a month ago, thanks to Shadow’s Reapers.” He nods respectfully in my direction and I return it with a smirk.

Marco sits forward in his seat at the head of the table, quietly letting Ray know he’s about to say his piece.

“Petey got on a flight to Florida within a few days of Cook’s death, so we’ve put the feelers out to some of my contacts to keepan eye out, but there’s not a lot else we can do. However, J…” Marco pauses, setting his icey-blue gaze on me at the same time my stomach drops. Hallie is in Florida. I know it’s a big state, but coincidences are fairytales that I don’t believe in. “You should move forward any plans you have to get your girl back because I don’t trust it. We know Ronan is out that w—“

The large oak door to this cozy conference room is pushed open, slamming against the pale wall behind it, and my eyes widen when I see Shoo, closely followed by Tab, barging in. They’re both out of breath and Shoo manages to speak before he gets shot in the face by one of the six deadly mafia leaders sitting around the table cocking their guns.

“Ronan’s in Florida. He took some men to the Gallaghers’. Dmitry is on a flight.”

“Say that again, big man. With breaths between sentences this time.” Marco remains the epitome of calm, but I know he’s sizzling underneath just as much as I am. After Hallie and I spent some time staying with him when Murphy died, he built a fun little relationship with my daughter. Mainly sneaking her chocolates and cookies when I wasn’t looking, but it was their thing.

It seems that, in the time it takes everyone to put the safety back on their weapon, tucking them back away on their person somewhere, Shoo realizes the severity of what almost happened when he stormed in.

“Damn, what a great entrance.” He has the sense to look a little guilty before he continues. “Check your phone, Boss. Dmitry saw Ronan and some goons arriving at the Gallaghers’ about an hour ago. He’s been trying to get a hold of you, and because he couldn’t, he jumped on a flight to Florida and told Glitch to get us all to meet him there. We don’t know anything else, we got here as quickly as we could.”

I’m actually dumbfounded, rendered speechless, my world crumbling before I’ve even had a chance to make it beautiful. This is what waiting for the perfect moment does…fucks you up the ass with a shovel. My fists are trembling and it’s taking everything within me to breathe evenly, going through every scenario in my mind to fix this.

“Tyler? I need your plane as soon as possible…Florida…it’s for J…yeah…if Enzo and Devon are available, we could use them too…thanks.” Marco’s voice cuts through my thoughts, and listening to his call with his brother-in-law, Tyler, may or may not have put a lump in my throat—I’ll deny it until the day I die.

They’re ready to go to war with me. Without knowing anything about the situation, they’re fucking ready.

“Eddie, do you want in on this one seeing as you’ve been hit by the Irish too?” Marco’s attention is on Eddie, who has been silent throughout the meeting, scoffing here and there, but he lost his son to these crazies, he has a right to deal with it just as much as I do.

“My wife would probably crumble if I left now, but I have a few soldiers that would love to get their claws in some Irish mob scum.” His face scrunches up in anger and I can understand what he and his wife are going through. Losing a child is one of the most excruciating pains a person can go through, and to even keep breathing is a major feat.

“Ray, you will need to hold down the fort, keep things running here for the next couple of days. Make sure there are at least five sets of eyes on River at all times. J, get the rest of your Reapers to meet us at the airport. I’ll text the address, it’s private. Devon and Enzo are on their way and Tyler has secured us a plane.” Marco is standing now, sliding his arms into his charcoal-gray suit jacket and typing madly on his phone. There’s a reason he’s a great don, and his ability to multitask like this is just a bonus.

“The rest of you, get back to your crews, your families, and we’ll finally get this shit behind us.”

Ray, Tommy, George, and Eddie stand, taking turns shaking Marco’s hand before leaving through the still-open door. Tab has to move aside because he fills the doorway with his bulk, and they each tilt their heads to him in acknowledgement.

“I texted the valet, they’re bringing your Harley around to the front with my car, we’ll head out right away.” The valet parking at this hotel is the only place I’ll ever trust with my baby. They know to walk her to and from the parking lot rather than try and ride her. Perks of my boss owning the place.

“Marco, River’s pregnant. You should stay here.” What he’s doing for me means everything and it just reminds me of the family I’ve found here. I’m fully aware he can take care of himself, and he’s my boss, but I don’t feel right about him risking himself like this for me. We don’t know what kind of situation we’re walking into in Florida.

“J, you and I both know River would have my balls if I didn’t help you get your girl back. Let’s go.” Without another word, he’s through the door, leaving Shoo and Tab waiting for me to make a move.

This kind of situation is usually something I thrive in, but when it’s this personal, it just hits different. With a deep breath, I stand, pull out my phone from my pocket, grab my helmet, and walk out of the conference room toward the hotel entrance.

There are at least thirty missed calls, twice as many texts, and a lot of voicemails. I read what I can before my bike is wheeled toward me, each text like a knife being pushed into my heavy-beating chest. Shoo and Tab jump on their motorcycles and wait for me to mount mine, ready to have my back the whole way.

Dmitry’s texts are erratic, panicked, so I listen to the voicemails because I need the information now.

The voicemails don’t help calm my soul at all. Lifting a leg to straddle my motorcycle, I call him back, again and again, but there’s no answer. It doesn’t even ring and I almost kick myself because I know he’s on a plane. I send a few erratic texts of my own because the crazy fuck just said he was getting on a fucking plane.

Me:What the fuck? Is she okay? What is going on?

Me:Are you out of your fucking mind?

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