Chapter Thirty-Two

Eamon

“All right guys, Rico just exited room 119. Bottom floor, corner room.” Rourke’s voice rang out clear and crisp in my ear piece, doing fuck all to calm my nerves.

There was no reason for nerves anyway. I’d done shit like this a million times before. It usually came easy to me, but even I could admit that normally I didn’t give a shit what happened to anyone without the Connelly name. But this was different. As much as I wanted to fool myself that Layla was nothing more than casual sex and intense orgasms, it was a fucking lie. I wanted her. Bad. Bad enough to enlist my family to help save her fucking life.

Shit, I might be falling for this chick.

“I’m at the window. It’s unlocked.” Shae sounded cool and calm with a hint of pleasure to his voice.

“Too fucking easy,” he whispered while Rourke and I listened for any signs of distress. “Okay, I’m inside.”

“Is she in there?”

“She’s not in the shower which is where I currently am so give me a damn min—”

The line went silent and panic rose up in my gut.

“Shae, you there? Answer me, dammit.”

Several long seconds passed before he spoke again.

“Sorry. I heard something in the bathroom and it turned out to be Layla.”

“You barged in on her in the bathroom?”

He laughed. “No, she’s tied to a chair. Gotta go guys, kick some ass while I save the damsel in distress.”

His connection went dead and though I should have felt relief, more anxiety welled up in me.

“Relax bro, she’ll be fine. Your head in the game?”

I took a deep breath and glanced at my reflection in the rearview mirror, giving me something I rarely needed. A mental pep talk.

“Yeah, my head’s in the game Rourke.”

“Good, because we got movement on the east side of the motel. Two guys, both armed. They don’t look like Milano’s men.”

Shit. “Colors?”

“Yeah. Purple and black.” Rourke’s matter of fact tone concealed his emotions, a fact that normally pissed me off but today it was comforting. Those colors belonged to the Purple Aces, a group of crazy fuckers with ambitions of being Somebody with a capital ‘S.’

“Any Milano muscle around?”

From my spot at the diner across the street I couldn’t see anyone so I stepped from the car.

“Not yet but you have an audience.”

My head immediately began to swivel in all directions, checking out all the angles danger could come from. Mostly I got darkness. Not helpful.

“Good, I always wanted to star in my own show.”

Rourke’s chuckle sounded down the line. “Rico is at your one o’clock.”

I spotted that big fucker because there was no amount of darkness that could shield his girth. “Got it.”

I crossed the street, my eyes moving constantly, keeping a close eye on Rico while looking out for any of Lorenzo’s boys.

Rico locked in on me as I approached. He had a gun in his right hand. I smiled and pointed at his fat belly.

“Rico. Good to see you. You lost weight?”

“Fuck you, Connelly.”

A laugh escaped me even though I wasn’t feeling jolly, and I took a step forward. “You’re not my type, Rico.”

“That’s far enough,” he said, but I heard the wariness creep into his tone, so I took another step forward.

I knew talk of Layla would get him to lower his guard, at least a little. “Where’s the girl?” I said.

He shrugged. “Keep your hand away from that gun stuffed in your pants and maybe I’ll tell you.”

“Why would I do a stupid thing like that?”

A few more steps forward and I heard two sets of footsteps a few paces behind me.

“So the pussies behind me can try and get the jump on me? Try again, Rico.”

He raised the gun and aimed it at me, and I could see his hands trembling. I had him right where I wanted him. “Toss that piece nice and slow over this way, Rico.”

“Fuck you.”

Rico threw his head back and laughed, a sliver of pale white fat around his belly shone under the yellowish security lights provided by the cheap motel.

“Nah, I got a curvy blonde inside with more than enough holes for me and the boys.”

My fingers twitched with the urge to lay that fat fuck out, but I couldn’t do shit until Shae gave me the all clear. So I just smiled.

“Then I guess I got here just in time for the party. You might want to lower that gun before it falls out of your hand or you shoot one of these motherfuckers coming up behind me by mistake. The last thing you need is to have to explain to the boss man how you lost the girl and shot his men.”

I took a step back and turned toward the two men who’d stopped about twenty feet away in front of motel room. I figured Layla was in the room behind them.

“Take one more step Connelly, and I’ll put two bullets in that bitch before you make your way out of the parking lot.”

A broad smile crossed my face. Damn, I loved it when a plan worked out so beautifully. Even Jesus himself couldn’t have planned this shit better.

“Angelo Milano, I thought that was the stench of rotten garbage I smelled.” I turned back to him and slid my piece out of my waistband, finger hovering half an inch off the trigger. “Lorenzo must not be too serious if you’re the one he sent.”

“Fuck you, Connelly. Soon your family will be nothing but a memory in this town.”

I laughed. “Is this your version of a ‘Rocket ain’t big enough for the both of us’ speech? It was better in High Noon.”

“Laugh it up, pretty boy.”

Shae’s breathless voice sounded in my ear. “E-dogg, I got her.”

And just like that, everything was fine again. The edges of my vision cleared and my pulse slowed until everything was in absolute fucking focus.

“Backup is in place,” Rourke confirmed, and I was ready.

“You know why I’m laughing, Angelo? Because you’re a fucking joke. Your whole fucking family is a goddamn joke. You think you can come in here and take what belongs to my family? Well then motherfucker, you better be prepared to fight for it.” While I talked I took a few more steps forward, taunting them both.

Angelo laughed. “You wanna go at it right here in the parking lot like a bunch of teenagers? It ain’t my style, but I’m down.”

“And that’s the problem with you Milanos, small brains equal small thoughts. You want what I got, you better be willing to fucking take it.”

Angelo, pussy that he was, took a step back and bumped into the door. “You want me to take it?”

“You don’t have the balls.”

“You want me to take what’s yours?” His voice grew louder, more agitated by the second.

“I want you to try so I can take my time killing you.” Then, I let my face relax into a smile.

“Something funny?”

I shrugged. “Besides your face?”

Angelo was good and pissed off, taking another step back and grabbing the doorknob. He twisted it and looked over his shoulder with a smile. “Killing her won’t mean shit to me. Can you say the same?”

“Whatever happens next Angelo, just know that you brought it all on yourself.” Another wave of deep calm washed over me and it was almost as if I could see the next few minutes unfold. That comforting thought put my feet on the move, right toward Angelo Milano.