Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
I didn’t exactly know how Claire and Judah got to my house. I didn’t want to press when she was already so worked up. I figured it would come out in due time, though.
“Alright,” Luca said a few minutes later, waving a hand over toward Dante, who’d been seated at his side. “Dante has some answers for us about why Warren hasn’t exactly tripped any alarm bells for us.”
All of the younger guys were go-getters, ready to prove themselves. But I imagined Dante was even more motivated since his brother had been shot by Warren’s men.
“I’m sure all of you, like me, got nowhere when you hopped online and tried to look into Warren Graves,” he said, getting a nod from all of us. “Save for his address. Which sure as fuck tripped alarm bells because the place is worth millions.”
More nods.
“I got nowhere online. So early this morning, I hit the streets, talking to our local contacts. Mainly, the Mallicks, Quinn, and Sawyer. Got nowhere. So I walked my ass over to the Henchmen compound.
“Shoulda gone there first. Always forget that a lot of the younger guys haven’t always been in the area, that they’ve traveled and know more shit than we do about other organizations.
“Anyway, I was talking to Nave. You remember him… son of Lazarus. And some other non-legacy guy named Dezi. Both of ‘em said they knew of a Graves, but his name wasn’t Warren. It was William.
“Funny enough, did a quick search. And, yep, Willian Warren Graves lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. Rap sheet as long as my arm. His father’s before him was twice as long. His grandfather too.”
Claire had said that legacy was important to the fucker. And if he was from a long line of crime, I guess that made sense.
“What’s he in?” Lucky asked.
“That’s the thing,” Dante said. “He’s… he’s more of an opportunist than anything. A pirate of sorts, I guess. Hears of some profitable deal, swoops in, and steals that shit out from under someone. Jacks eighteen-wheelers full of expensive cargo. Containers full of shit he can sell. Dabbles in drugs. Extortion. Anything, really. But the shit he pulled with us? That’s his main bag.”
“How the fuck does he get away with that shit over and over?” Milo asked.
“Because he doesn’t usually jack shit belonging to other organizations. Dunno what the difference was here. If he just didn’t know who he was fucking with. Or if he’s just gotten that cocky…” Dante said.
“How big is his organization?” Nino asked.
“Bigger than we originally thought,” Dante explained. “Neither Dezi or Nave could give us an exact count, but they said there were dozens of men under him. Keeps his house like a fortress.”
Yeah.
To keep the mother of his child and his son prisoner.
“So, clearly, this is something that’s going to take some strategy on our part. Figure out who they are, how we can hit them. Until then, though, I want each of you to pull some more of your men in to sit guard on your houses as well as your moms’ and sisters’ houses. Around the clock. No one is getting shot in their sleep. Or trying to use our women against us. If anyone is short soldiers or associates, let me know. I can redistribute. So can Matteo.”
We all broke into conversation then, me debating it out with my brothers who to use and rotate.
We each had our own crews. Mine was smaller than, for example, Lucky’s. And Milo’s was smaller than mine, since he was only recently Made.
But I didn’t want to borrow from anyone else. I wanted my own men who had my best interest in mind when it came to not only protecting my house, staying diligent, but in being discreet if they did happen to see Claire or Judah.
“You wanted to talk to me?” Luca asked when most of the guys filtered out.
“Yeah,” I said, patting his shoulder, and leading him further away from everyone else.
“Shit. That good, huh?”
“Someone showed up on my doorstep today, asking for help.”
“Okay. Who?”
“Claire and her son, Judah. She’s the mother of Warren’s son.”
“The woman in the car with the cuffs?” he asked, immediately putting shit together. It was what made him such a good leader.
“Yeah.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“What did she want?”
“Mostly, someone to get her off the street, and get her baby something to eat. I didn’t have a lot of time to ask her a ton of questions. But it’s clear that she’d been Warren’s prisoner. And that he would do… anything to get his son back.”
“Fuck. Alright. I am going to need to know more about how she got away, if there’s anyone who could have known where she was going.”
“I will get that information tonight,” I agreed.
“She alright?”
“She didn’t even have shoes on,” I told him. “Feet are all cut to shit. And she’s… wound up. Scared. Emotional. But… she’s alright. She’d do anything for her kid.”