Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
“But we need him.” Niall deadpans at me. “As if there aren’t any alternatives.”
“Do you want to get another family involved in this shit? Think we could go ask Dusan if he’s interested in getting his hands dirty? The cops are all over us for that shit with the Righteous Servants. No crime boss in this city in his right mind will get within ten feet of our operations, not with the fucking Chicago PD breathing down our necks.”
“And yet Julien’s willing.” Niall raises his eyebrows. “I wonder why.”
“Again, I hear you, and again, it doesn’t fucking matter. We’re stuck with the guy.”
We lapse into silence. Niall doesn’t like my answer. I wish I had something better to tell him other than suck it the fuck up and move on but that’s the best I can do. We need muscle, Julien has muscle, and we already made an agreement.
Now we’re driving to a random warehouse an hour outside of the city on a tip one of Julien’s informants picked up.
Nobody knows if it’s legit. Even Julien said he’s got his doubts. This particular informant has been solid in the past, but the guy’s also an addict, and addicts do stupid shit.
The way I see it, worst-case scenario is we get out there, find an empty warehouse, and drive back home. Two hours wasted, but nothing really lost.
Best case is we end this fucking war before it really begins.
That’s worth the risk to me.
As we get closer to the location, I slow our approach. Uncle Eddie’s driving a van filled with loyal soldiers, while Uncle Joseph is in an SUV packed to the gills with men in Kevlar vests and assault rifles. Julien showed up too, though he’s coming at the place from the other side.
The warehouse is a big, beige structure, almost like an airport hangar. It’s at the end of a long driveway, surrounded by a crumbling chain-link fence and overgrown with weeds. I’m guessing the area used to be a working farm, but the fields are turning to grass as the wilderness reclaims them.
“Looks dead,” I say, searching for any sign that people have been here recently.
“Not the best choice of words,” Niall says, giving me a meaningful look.
I grin back, park, and get out. Nothing happens, nobody moves. There are no shouts from the warehouse and no cracks of gunfire. Just silence and birds singing nearby.
I give the others a couple minutes to get into position before walking over to a side entrance. The walls are pitted with rust and mold, and I can’t imagine anyone’s used this place in a long time. The door opens without any issues though and creaks loudly as I drag it along its jammed hinges.
Inside, it smells musty and dirty. I turn on a flashlight and hold it in one hand as I aim my gun straight ahead. Niall’s at my shoulder. The uncles are getting prepped and ready, and they’ll rush in the second I send them a signal.
There’s nothing. No sign of life, no stolen pallets of drug-filled hockey sticks, no truck, no nothing. The main warehouse floor is littered with trash and debris, but nothing else. Catwalks loom above us. I turn off my light and look around, shaking my head.
“Looks like we can call it off,” I tell Niall. At the far end of the space, I spot a few men coming toward us and recognize Julien in the lead.
“Hello, friendly Irish pals,” Julien calls out. “Seems like we were misled.”
“Got any idea why your source would feed you bullshit?” I ask as he approaches with five fighters in tow.
“No clue,” Julien admits, and he seems uneasy. “My source has been very solid up until now. I’m not sure what happened. Perhaps—”
Whatever excuse Julien was about to make is suddenly drowned out by the sound of gunfire.
Bullets slam down from the catwalks. At first, I’m completely disoriented—it’s strange that the shooting is coming from above us, at strange angles. But quickly I understand what’s happening: this is a fucking ambush.
“Run!” I shout as bullets spray at the ground around us. I yank Julien forward just as one of his soldiers gets shredded, his skull exploding as his brain matter and bone pieces get thrown onto the floor.
I’m moving hard. There’s yelling all over. Niall’s with me and Julien’s right behind, and I’m heading for the door. The shooting continues, and it’s obvious our attackers planned a decent surprise, but they didn’t think about the angles.
It’s not easy shooting moving targets from a height. Instead of presenting our whole bodies as targets, they can only aim for our heads. That’s the only reason we’re still alive as I throw myself down the hallway, barely escaping with my life, as two more of Julien’s men get taken out. Their mangled corpses twitch with more bullet impacts, and blood leaks onto the concrete.