“Okay, not makin’ any promises. You wanna give me a clue about what the fuck is goin’ on? It’s not like I’ve been gone for years. It’s been two weeks, and it seems like shit is implodin’.”
“Boy, have you forgotten the way of our life?” We walk in together. The women are gathered by the bar. Lavender is sniffling. Mom has an arm around Henley. The rest of the aunts are busy moving around, grabbing coffee or shots. There’s one person missing, though she should be at work right now.
“Fuck, it’s really bad.” No one meets our eyes or greets me now that we’re back, not even my mom.
“Yeah, you could say that.” Bullet’s already said his hello to Aunt Valentina, so he’s ahead of us dropping his phone in the box that’s outside the room. We follow him, the two of us doing the same, then enter the room. Everyone’s sitting down in a chair, Shovel at the head of the table, Razor to his right, and usually, Dad is at his left. He’s not today though.
“You can sit down. I’m okay,” I tell him. After sitting all day, I’m due to stand for a while. I notice Bullet is doing the same.
“I’m good. Go ahead and start,” Dad tells Shovel. Everyone’s eyes lock on his, waiting for him to ask the usual questions after a run.
“Alright. First, tell me, did you guys find a new location?” Shovel is in business mode.
“Yeah, no building, though, but there’s a vacant lot not too far from the other warehouse. Figure we can set up a somethin’ with a local builder. There’re no neighbors, not even another business for a ten-mile radius,” I speak up. The heaviness in the room doesn’t dissipate even with the decent amount of news.
“Good. Bullet, you got anythin’ to add to that?” Shovel asks.
“Nope, Rocket here can negotiate a good deal. Should have seen him go after the realtor with questions. Had him re-thinkin’ if it was on swamp land even though it’s not.” Bullet’s arms are crossed over his chest.
“Even better. Alright. I need you to brace yourself, Rocket.” Shovel stands up. That’s when I look at each brother in the room—Hawk, Doc, and Cannon, along with the rest. Weariness is set on their faces, and there’s damn worry all around us.
“Alright.” I rock back on my heels, trying to remain calm but prepping to expect the unexpected.
“It’s about Sailor. This mornin’, around two o’clock, your father got an alert that she pressed her panic button.” I take a breath, holdin’ it in, attemptin’ not to be pissed that no one fuckin’ let me know.
“Where is she?”
“That’s the problem. She’s not at her apartment. Your dad and I went there as soon as he got the alert. Her keys and purse were left by her car, the door was shut. We pulled up the security footage. Fuckin’ glad you got her away from lookin’ at the shithole on the other side of town, or we’d be up shit creek right about now.” He takes a deep breath, lets out air, and it’s all makin’ sense now, the solemness around the club and in the room. Yet not one motherfucker let me know.
“Easy, Jackson.” My father sets his hand on my shoulder. The need to shake it off is there, but I don’t, not yet.
“It seems the Italian mafia has decided to step into our territory. The surveillance caught one of the boss’s henchmen holding a gun to her head. She went without puttin’ up a fight. Shocked the shit out of me. That girl has grit and doesn’t take shit sittin’ down, so somethin’ spooked her.”
“I wanna see the footage.” The Sailor I know hasn’t been the same since I left to go on the run. She’s been tired and not at her best. Fuck, last night was the first time Sailor sounded like herself.
“No,” my dad states. My head whips around, and I shrug his hand off me.
“What the fuck do you mean, no? That’s my damn woman out there, and no one knows why the fuck they have her.” My temper gets the better of me.
“Good, you’re finally fuckin’ claimin’ that girl, but I’m with your pops. You don’t need to see it. Right now, we need to be scoutin’ the area, figurin’ a way to get into the fortress that’s The Russo’s.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I spin around, nailing my dad in the jaw, my temper winning, but I see he’s still standing. I go for a chair, yanking it up, lifting it over my head before throwing it at the only window in the room. The loud crash does nothing to soothe the fuckin’ anger boiling inside me.
“Out! Everyone fuckin’ out!” Shovel yells. I’m still in my tirade, yanking anything up that I can, throwing it around, leaving nothing but a path of destruction until my arms are yanked behind my back and my father is in my face.