Page 121 of Taken In Trade
He steps away and texts someone, but I’m still mulling over his words.
We linger by the door until Moretti nods and says, “The SUV is here. I will head out first. Hawk, I want you with Vanessa. With Magnum out of commission, he can bring up the rear.”
I don’t know him well enough to guess if he’s always this thorough, but Hawk and Vanessa don’t seem concerned.
A group of three guys from another family heads out before us, but they break away to the right while we follow the sidewalk straight toward the circle where the vehicles wait.
“Are you okay?” Vanessa asks, reaching over to squeeze my hand. “You’re frowning, and it looks like you’re in pain.”
“All good, princess.” I bring her hand to my lips, giving it a kiss before releasing it. “I probably shouldn’t have been so stubborn about leaving my meds at the house.”
In reality, my entire shoulder from my neck to my armpit is on fire, but if I walk at a steady gait, it’s slightly less noticeable.
“We’ll make sure you’re well-medicated soon.” She smiles, pats Hawk’s chest, and skips up to Moretti.
“I’ll never turn down touching you, but you don’t need to sweet-talk me.” He wraps his arm around her and pulls her into his side, kissing her temple. “We’re headed straight home to get your boyfriend his opiates.”
I snort.
Vanessa slaps his chest, and they get moving again.
It’s freezing, and I’m wishing I brought an overcoat.
Moretti pulls his phone from his pocket, stopping dead in his tracks.
Vanessa tries to continue on, but he grips her hip, pulling her back to his side.
Hawk holds an arm up, blocking me from moving forward.
Okay, so this is a bigger deal than him getting a text.
Hawk and I are just behind him, but I’m on the far left of the sidewalk, so I can see more of Moretti’s profile than Hawk can.
Moretti’s jaw clenches, and his head whips up, swiveling as he scans the area. He shoves his phone into his pocket, and a half second later, three men spill around the back of the SUV that’s waiting for us.
The guys are armed and aiming directly at us.
Grigoryan comes into view next, but he’s unarmed. Several men follow him around the back of the vehicle while another few stream around the front.
Theyall have weapons trained at the four of us.
It’s strange that Grigoryan doesn’t have a gun. Perhaps he trusts his team will be enough to take us out.
Two. Four. Six. Eight. Nine.
Nine fucking guys, all with weapons, and Grigoryan.
It rubs me the wrong way that he doesn’t feel like he needs to participate in executing us.
What kind of leader doesn’t fight right alongside his men?
Why would anyone follow him if he’s just going to leave all the dirty work up to them?
Damn.
Maybe I’m thinking things here run like they did with the club I grew up in.
Mafia families are passed down through succession, from everything I’ve heard. Maybe the man has never had to fight for his life.
