by A. J. Macey
Have to look at the little things here, people, positive thinking and all that other bullshit.
“Need to get a plan in place for the actual takedown,” Elliot chimed in, his twang hesitant as he looked around the group. “And we’re going to need a lot of firepower if the seven of us are all that’s going up against the Casterelli mob.”
“Don’t know about the stash, then, do you?” Brooks added with a smirk, tilting his head towards me. “She’s got that covered.”
“Why does that not surprise me?” Elliot’s laugh was bright, his previous hesitation fading away at the reassurance.
“We should probably stock up now, never can be too prepared. Especially with such a short window of time,” I said, looking down at the maps, blueprints, and notes.
The others started to chat, throwing around some random ideas on the best way to go about it, but I tuned it out, focusing on something that had been swirling around in my mind recently. If shit hit the fan, I knew the one thing that I could do to make sure I got back in my father’s presence.
“You better stop that thought process right now, Kitten,” Garrett growled only loud enough for me to hear him. He’d come up next me, leaning in until his lips brushed the curve of my ear.
“What? Who said I was thinking about anything?” I whispered, looking up at him. His emerald eyes sparked, lips thinning as he glared down at me. If anyone knew what I was thinking, it was Garrett. Not that I would tell my asshole stepbrother that.
“I’m not going to let you waltz back into that casino and offer yourself up as bait to get close to your father,” he challenged, his arm coming to rest in front of me on the table. The movement curved his muscled body into my personal space, blocking the others from view. “I know you, Kitten. Even if you pretend to act like that wasn’t where your head was going, I know it was.”
“You don’t know everything about me, Garrett,” I hissed, sticking my tongue out at the end of my statement because he was right. I had been thinking of that. His lip curled, and his gaze heated.
“If you want to stick that tongue out so much, I’ll gladly give you something to use it on, Kitten.” The spark in my core flickered, warming as his gaze leisurely worked its way down my body. It was only when there was a cough to my left that I finally realized Elliot was standing there with a brow arched, a sly smile on his face.
“Oh, shut up, E,” I huffed, shoving him slightly as he laughed.
“We wanted to see what the plan is, but if you two have some other things to do…” He trailed off, his tone suggestive. I glared at him until he threw his hands into the air.
“Get a crash vehicle or two and meet down at The Bank,” I told Brooks and Stone. “Chase, Elliot, Val, and I will take the truck and probably one other vehicle. I’ll let Dwight know we’re coming.”
“We’re going to need three vehicles?” Brooks questioned. “You emptying your vaults?” No one spoke, all lost in thought, but I saw it in their gazes. They already knew the answer to Brooks’s question.
I gave him a cold smile, that pool of darkness that my father had instilled in me long ago pulsing at the thought of finally getting my revenge. “I couldn’t bend Heaven, so I’m going to raise hell because how else do you kill a monster without being one?"
Frankie is a dead man, and I’m going to make it happen.
December 21st
Saturday Very Early Morning
Kiera
The car ride was mostly quiet, Elliot and Val talking amongst themselves in the back while Chase and I sat up front. My focus was on the road as we drove through the city and to The Bank. It was nice to have a lull, some peace and calm before the storm, but my body was wound tight, itching to be so close to getting my bastard of a father and yet still so far away.
Ten days, I reminded myself as I pulled in to park next to Stone. Ten days and I’ll finally have my revenge.
“What are we doing here exactly?” Val’s question pulled me from my internal musings, staring at the face of the building.
“You are in for a treat, old man,” Chase teased, patting him on the back as we headed inside, Brooks and Garrett pulling into the parking lot shortly after.
“Ah, Ms. Kitty, quite the number of visitors you have this time around,” Dwight pointed out. “Another one of those times where you’ll be needing in all of the vaults?”
“Yes, please,” I cooed, patting him on the shoulder. “Thank you for having us so early in the morning.”
“For the sole proprietress, anything,” he responded formally, his eyes glowing with laughter at our ridiculous banter that for whatever reason we couldn’t stop doing.
“Ugh, so many stairs,” Elliot whined when we reached the vault room, his smile widening when I gave him a look over my shoulder. The room was quiet after that, all gazes glued to the opening vault doors. Everyone was too busy gawking to notice or care that Dwight headed back to the main level, leaving us to our own devices.
“Wow. Color me impressed,” Val murmured in appreciation.
“All right let’s start pulling shit out and getting it onto the staircase lift,” I instructed. We got right to work making an assembly line from the shelf to the empty bin on the lift to hand off weapons down the line. We had gotten a few batches of weapons up the stairs where Dwight quickly unloaded the bin. All of us worked in silence for a while.
“This is some high-powered equipment, Kiera. How long have you been collecting this?” Valerian questioned as a grenade launcher passed from Chase to him to Stone.
“Over five years,” I said with a smile. “I like my toys, especially the heavy-duty machinery.”
“Has Dwight always been in charge of this place?” E asked. “Assuming you guys met before we did.”
“Yup, since 2014.”
“So, how exactly did you and Dwight meet?” Brooks’s question gained the others’ attention and they looked at me with curiosity. Smirking, I started the story of how Silas Rodgers and I met when I was eighteen.
The roaring crowd was loud, people packed in the small concrete space as the fight started. I watched from the shadows, bored as I waited for the fight to finish. A man with short black hair, a wash of scruff, and no tattoos was going against one of the main fighters in Vegas. Apparently, Gavel, despite being bulky and slow, had issued a challenge for any and all fighters to test his abilities, and it had attracted several outsiders to the arena.
Including me, though for a much different reason than to fight for others’ entertainment.
“And the winner is Titan!” the announcer roared, revving the crowd up even more. Rolling my eyes, I pushed off the wall, weaving in and out of the men and women who were drunk and amped up from the violence of the night. I’d shoved my hair up into a hat and masked my curves with oversized ratty clothes. So easy to hide with just a few simple touches.
Wading through the viewers took a while, having to go halfway around the room to get to the hall I was looking for. When I finally reached it, I walked close to the wall, curling in on myself so I wouldn’t be noticed. It didn’t take long to reach the door I needed, but there was—of course—a burly man standing guard by the office. Growling to myself, I took a deep breath and stumbled around the corner.
“Woah there, man, you can’t be back here,” he stated, holding out his hand to try and stop me while I hiccupped. My drunken act was working, and the guard was quickly growing distracted. His hands shot out, scrambling to catch me before I tripped and face planted onto the dingy cement.
Thank god because can I just say ew?
“Oh, fuck!” he exclaimed while I retched, puking slightly on his leg. While an uncommon, and quite gross skill, puking on command came in handy now and then. “God damn it.” Grabbing me, he opened the door to the office and shuffled us inside before depositing me in one of the ratty chairs and glancing away in search of a towel. Smirking, I got up and silently went over to where he faced away from me. Before he could react, I clocked him in the side of the head wi
th the paperweight I picked up from the desk, and he collapsed in a heap.
Turning, I got to work, walking back over to the desk and quickly hacking my way into the safe that was housed behind the scuffed wood furniture. I scooped out the stacks of cash and had moved to drop them into my bag strapped to my torso when I heard a cough. Glancing behind me, my heart rate jumped when I found the winning fighter standing on the other side of the desk.
“Part of that is mine,” the man said. His voice was deep and filled with amusement as he pointed to the cash. “Though I don’t give a fuck if you keep the rest of it.”
“How much is yours?” I asked. His brows crept up likely because he realized I was a woman and not the man I’d appeared to be.
“Five grand, miss…?”
“Kitty. You can call me Ms. Kitty.” I smirked, tossing double the amount into his waiting arms. His face scrunched up in confusion, our gazes meeting as he sought mine out in question. “I would appreciate it if you don’t tell anyone I was here.”
The confusion melted to understanding when he saw the paw print card I twirled between my fingers. Dipping his head, he acknowledged my request as I flicked it into the safe, closing the door behind me. I stuffed the cash into my bag and resituated the oversized sweatshirt to cover the bulge.
“So, Ms. Kitty, any particular reason you’ve come to visit this wonderful establishment?” Titan asked as I finished.
“Ringmaster’s a piece of shit.” I shrugged as if it was enough of an explanation. I did leave off the part that he was a frequent viewer of my videos that Frankie streamed, and it was too much of a risk to kill him outright.
What better way to hit the bastard where it hurt than take his money? Especially since he had a whole slew of attendees tonight who had bet on the fight and wanted their payout.
Get money and get the ringmaster outed as a shithole?
That’s my kind of Friday night.
“I would love to keep chatting, but baldy over here is going to be waking up soon, and I don’t, in fact, plan on getting caught tonight,” I explained, walking out from behind the desk.
“I caught you,” he told me. I scoffed, flashing him an ‘mhm’ expression with thinned lips and a cocked brow.
“I don’t see you calling for backup.”
“Nope, I’m finding myself having too much fun,” Titan countered. I chuckled, shaking my head as I walked out of the office, the fighter following me.
“I’m not that fun, Titan,” I tossed over my shoulder when we finally reached the main door. Men started to call out as they neared us, getting me caught in the middle of drama I definitely didn’t want or need.
“Well, if it isn’t the piece of shit who cost us our money,” a sleazy man sneered, him and his three buddies coming to circle Titan. My steps slowed, lips thinning as I debated continuing to walk to my bike and getting away clean with my winnings… but something held me back.
“Not my fault you bet on the wrong fighter,” Titan challenged, and I couldn’t stop the smile that spread on my face.
Smart ass. I like him.
When I heard a thud followed by a groan, I turned and walked the distance between them and me. It wasn’t until I was closer that they realized I had approached. Titan hunched and clutched his stomach, but I saw him wink at me, and I knew we were on the same page.
“Hey, fuckface!” I shouted. “Leave him alone.”
“Oh, like a little girl like you is going to fucking stop us?” The head man laughed, grabbing his beer belly as it shook.
I rolled my eyes, sighing as I stepped closer. Why must everyone assume I’m weak just because I’m not gigantic? Pushing the irritated thought away, I moved when Titan did, each of us taking on our own moron. It wasn’t long until there was only one left, his hands shaking as he stared at us. We didn’t even have to move before he was running away like a scared little child.
“Pussy,” I muttered. “You good?”
“Thank you, Ms. Kitty,” Titan answered, sticking out a hand for me to shake. “Silas Rodgers.”
“Kiera Casterelli,” I responded, tucking my hand in his but when my name left my lips his eyes widened. “Yeah, that Casterelli before you ask, but no, I don’t associate with my father or the shit show that he runs.”
“You hungry? I’m always starving after a fight, Ms. Kitty.” He kept up the weird banter between us, not fazed by who my family was. An idea popped into my head as we started toward the parking lot.
“You want out of the fighting business, Silas?”
“How’d you guess?”
“Didn’t.” I shrugged as we walked farther down the aisle. “Was just a question.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“I have amassed quite a… large stash of things that need to be watched. Think you’d be up for being branch manager at my Bank?” I wasn’t entirely sure why I’d offered a complete stranger the position, but there was something about him as he smiled at me that just screamed trustworthy.
“I don’t know if Silas Rogers, ‘Titan,’ is much of a banker,” he told me.
“How about becoming someone new?”
He was silent, thinking it over as we finally reached my bike. Pulling my leather jacket out of the saddle bag, I looked over at him. I yanked the baseball cap off my head and shook out my hair as I waited.
“You’d do that? Give me the opportunity to start over?” His words were quiet, hesitant at my offer.
“Everyone deserves a chance to get out of whatever shitty situation they’re in. Hell, I’ve done it. Why shouldn’t you?” I said, hitching my leg over my bike.
“What would I owe you?” he asked, suspicion littering his question.
“Silence and loyalty about who I am and what I do. I’d pay you like any normal job, give you insurance and all that stuff, and a place to live. The new identity would be yours to keep, whether you stick with me or not down the road.” The silence resumed as I watched him go back and forth, his expression shifting every so often, reflecting the debate he was having with himself. Finally, when I’d started to think he would walk away from my offer, he spoke.
“Then yeah, I’d love to.” The smile he flashed me was bright and full of hope. Silas Rogers couldn’t be more than a year or two younger than me, still high school age, and yet here he was, fighting for cash to survive.
I survived the hell of my past, so why should he continue to live such a life?
“Perfect. You’re now Dwight Abrams, main branch manager of The Bank. Expect you to be at this address at nine in the morning tomorrow,” I instructed, digging out a piece of paper to scribble the address on and holding it out for him to take.
“I’ll be there, but before you go, Ms. Kitty. Why Dwight?” he questioned, looking from my handwriting to me. I tilted my head slightly and shrugged.
“Don’t know, you just look like a Dwight to me.”
“Then Dwight I’ll be. See you tomorrow, Ms. Kitty.” He tipped an imaginary hat and started toward whatever vehicle he had taken to get to the fight, his winnings plus the extra clutched in his hands.
Before he got too far, I had another thought and called out, “Hey, want to get some food? I can tell you all about the job.”
“Yeah, that sounds fun.” With a bright smile that nearly glowed in the night, he started back toward me.
Look at me making friends, I thought with glee, three and counting.
Abby, Nate, and now Dwight… well, Garrett too, but he’s more of a possessive asshole than a friend.
I’m not my father after all. Where he has followers, I have friends.
A sharp alarm sounded, Dwight’s voice filtering through an intercom. “Code black. I repeat, code black.” My blood ran cold, adrenaline flooding my veins as I shoved the gun into Brooks’s hands and yanked the last of the launchers from the shelf.
“What the fuck does that mean?” Garrett demanded, yelling to be heard over the alarm.
“Time to use the heavy machinery.”
Chapter 14
December 21st
Saturday Morning
Kiera
“What is a code black?” Chase questioned, his voice hard as he loaded up his arms with weapons. The rest of the men followed suit before darting up the stairs with me.
“Active threat,” I told them, striding to Dwight who stood behind the desk, his own weapons ready and waiting on the stone counter. “How many?”
“At least nine or ten,” he explained, all formal banter to the wayside as he pulled his suit jacket off. “All banded on the other side of the street in that abandoned building. Want the shielding down?”
Shaking my head, I looked at the screen housing all the cameras. “Not until the windows give. How the fuck did such a big group find us?”
“Well, you’re a smart woman, Ms. Kitty, so I reckon you have a rat somewhere. Lots of holes that could come up between a group this big, especially knowing there’s a hit and an MC involved,” Dwight said as he picked up his weapons.
“We’ll figure it out after these fucking bastards are dead,” I bit out in rage. Digging out a box of comms, I passed them out as quickly as I could. “Dwight, you stay with Elliot here in the lobby up in the perch. Brooks, Stone, you’ll be in the perch to the left of the building with Val. Garrett, Chase, you’re with me to the right.”
“What the fuck is a perch?” Garrett questioned sharply, pulling his gun from the holster and checking it. His movements were precise and sharp as he readied himself for what was about to come.
I’d opened my mouth to answer when a loud crack sounded, the first shot aimed directly at Brooks from the placement of the mark on the bullet proof glass. A flare of panic surged forward. I will not lose my men.
My father has taken a lot from me, but he won’t take them too.
“Go,” I commanded Dwight who signaled Elliot to follow to the hidden ladder. “It’s a hidden alcove above each room between the ceiling of the main level and the roof. It has small openings, so we can fire back. Chase, Garrett, wait here.”
