Rely on Me - Elizabeth Knox Page 0,31

so surreal. It can’t be real.

I can’t bear it.

Chapter Seventeen

Taking chances is scary but there is something that should scare you far more than anything: missing out on something truly wonderful because you were scared.

~ Katherine Matheson

Mammoth

“Who did you call?” Riva asks from beside me. Her hands are still shaking. We’ve been in the car for about two hours and she’s barely said a word. I can only imagine how scared she is. How she’s fearing the worst in her mind.

It’s a week before Christmas and shit shouldn’t be like this right now. If anything, people should be filled with joy, preparing to see their families. We shouldn’t be on our way to Philadelphia to see if her father’s okay or not.

The club has an ally. She’s the Prez of the Iron Vex MC in Queens, New York. Boss’ her name and she’s good friends with Gamble. I called her ‘cause she makes runs down to Philadelphia, so I figured she might’ve had a connection with someone down here. Luckily, she did.

“A club ally. Her name’s Boss. She’s friends with Gamble, the Prez of another club actually. She had a contact down here so she made a call to get them to your pappa as soon as possible. We’re on our way to his clinic now.” I explain, making a left into a very questionable area. I’ve never been deep into the city besides takin’ Ace to the zoo with Gamble when she was about six months old. I remember telling Gamble how Ace probably wouldn’t remember any of it, but she didn’t care. She wanted to take her baby girl to the zoo, so we did. It’s a lot nicer than the one we have back home. Hell, Baltimore doesn’t even have a parking lot. We park on the grass, no joke.

“Oh . . .” Riva whispers, bringing her hand up to wipe under her eyes.

I hate how she’s suffering right now, but more than that, I hate how these fuckin’ bastards are goin’ for the jugular. Well, I’ll go for the jugular too and I have no problem doing so. From what I gather this Marco fellow is obviously gay, and I highly doubt the leader of the Marielitos is approving of this. Fuck, in Cuba I’m pretty sure the Marielitos kill men if they’re not into women. A lot of countries are like that. It’s why many people come to America for asylum, because they fear for their life. I wonder if this Marco came to America for this reason . . . and how his father will feel when I tell him.

I don’t know how to get in contact with a man of his stature, but I’ll find a way. I’ve heard whispers about Boss having run ins with the Romanians in New York. They run a mafia they refer to as the Clans. Each head of a prominent family is sort of on a board, making up the Romanian Clans. Thirteen families in total. I’m betting their leaders will have a way for me to get in contact with them. If they’ll help me, that is.

The GPS starts speaking, telling me we go three hundred feet and we’ll arrive at our destination. We’re on Gransback Street. I pull over to the right and park the car in front of an abandoned building. It has red and black graffiti on the front, obviously being tagged by a local gang. I do a double take as I see the numbers beside the door. This is the address Boss texted me. What the fuck?

“Is this us?” Riva asks, looking around. She’s nervous too.

“Yeah. You stay here and let me check it out.” I mutter, pulling my gun from my driver’s side door. I pull the safety back and slide it, ensuring a round is in the chamber.

“Hell no. You’re not leaving me here.” She snaps.

Fucking Christ. Are we really going to do this right now? “Fine, you know how to use a gun?” I grit, glaring at her.

Her eyes widen and that’s my answer. I should’ve known. “This is how it’s gonna go, you stay the fuck behind me and do as I say. I’m not gonna have either of us getting popped.”

“Popped?”

“Shot, Mouse. It means shot.” I sigh, opening the door to exit the vehicle. She waits until I’m around to her side and gets out, sticking behind me like I ordered.

I know for a fact I didn’t get another text from Boss, ‘cause if I did