“Who are they?” Wendy asks, scowling at my friend and driver.
“Never-fucking-mind who they are,” I snap, “Tell me where I can find Dante’s Nine!”
“They’re in the back,” Dani says, eyeing me apprehensively, “You can see them when they’ve wrapped up their meeting.”
“That’s not gonna work,” I say, marching around the bar.
“Whoa, whoa,” Saul says, stepping between me and the back door, “I’m afraid it’s members only back there.”
“What’re you gonna do, tackle me?” I snap.
“If need be,” he shrugs.
“Declan’s in trouble,” I tell him, brandishing the note, “So if you’re gonna stop me, you’ve got to catch me first.”
With that, I duck under the man’s arm and bolt through the back door, straight into the inner sanctum of Dante’s Nine. I find myself in a small, low-ceilinged room. More like a bunker than anything else. Eight outraged faces swivel my way as Declan’s brothers spot me in the doorway. I hold my head high as their shock and ire spill out.
“What the hell are you doing back here?” the wiry chuck hisses.
“This place is off limits—” Kip splutters.
“This better be good, Kassenia.” John Baxter says, in his ever-even voice.
“Declan is in trouble,” I tell him, holding my ground.
“Kassie, it’s all right,” Sam says, standing to lay a comforting hand on my shoulder, “Declan’s made it through three of these fights already. He’ll come out on top.”
“No he won’t,” I growl, shrugging off Sam’s hand, “He’s already made a deal not to.”
I shove the letter into Sam’s hand and watch as his face falls.
“No...” he breathes, handing the note to John.
“Goddammit, Declan,” John mutters, taking in the note for himself, “Declan’s agreed to throw the fight for Lorenzo.”
“What?!” the men of Dante’s Nine roar, springing to their feet as one.
In a heartbeat, the intensity of the room has shifted into high gear. Declan’s eight brothers are mobilized at once, charging out of the back room and out to their fleet of Harley’s.
“Sam,” I say, catching the bearded brother’s arm, “Take me with you.”
“I don’t think—”
“Please,” I beg, “I can talk him down. I know I can.”
Sam glances at John as we march past the barflies. The silver haired leader gives his nod of approval, signaling that I can tag along on this rescue mission.
“You all hang tight,” Sam says to Kelly, Dani, and the other girls, “Franklin will hold it down while we're out.”
“Damn right,” the gutsy doorman says, gripping his weapon.
I follow the men outside and accept the helmet that Sam thrusts into my hands. It feels strange, climbing on the back of a Harley that isn’t Declan’s. But desperate times, right? I wrap my arms around Sam and hold on tight as eight of Dante’s Nine roar off in search of their wayward brother. All I can do is pray now to any god that might be listening—pray that we can bring that ninth brother back, safe and sound.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Where the hell are we?” I demand, jumping off Sam’s Harley the moment we skid to a stop, “I thought we were going after Declan.”
“We are,” John says, wrenching off his helmet, “This is Lorenzo’s venue.”
I look wildly around the nondescript alleyway, as I stand among Declan’s eight brothers, facing an unmarked doorway and not much else.
“This is the place?” I ask.
“Sure is,” Sam tells me, “Are you sure you want to come in? I could have Frank or Teddy bring you back to the Forty-Five if you like.”
“You need me here,” I say, “I can get through to Declan.”
“What if it’s too late?” Ollie asks.
“Think you can handle it?” Kip chimes in.
“I’m not as unaccustomed to death as you guys might think,” I say, resolute. “Franklin and Kelly are both back at the club. I’m assuming that Saul and Dani have some serious hardware behind the bar. They’re safe. We’re ready. And Declan needs our help. So can we please get on with the goddamn show?”
“Let’s do as the lady says, boys,” Chuck whistles.
John strides up to the door and slams his fist against it. He knocks four times, pauses, then another five. I smile ruefully as the door swings open—Dante’s Nine are VIPs here, I suppose. They even have their own secret knock.
“Gentlemen,” a slick voice drawls from the shadowy doorway, “I was afraid we wouldn’t see you this evening.”
“Declan wanted us to sit this one out, but we couldn’t resist,” John smiles charmingly, “Mind if we catch the end of the match?”
“Not at all,” says the voice from within. I can just make out the outline of a man’s body in the dim light. “I think you’ll want to be here for the grand finale.”
“I’m sure,” Sam snarls.
“And who is this lovely lady?” asks the obscured bouncer.
“I’m Kassie,” I tell him, “Friend of Declan’s.”
“She’s good with us,” Chuck puts in.
“Then by all means, welcome,” the voice replies. The door swings open even further for us, and the club members file in.
“Stay right behind me,” Sam mutters, stepping into the darkness beyond the threshold.
I place myself in the bearded man’s shadow, holding my breath as I follow him inside. Ollie places himself behind me, Teddy and Frank bring up the rear. And despite the insane danger I feel pulsing all around us, I feel safe in the care of these men. If I can’t trust Dante’s Nine, then I can’t trust anyone.
We wind down a long hallway, almost entirely shrouded in darkness. The walls are soundproofed, the floor raked so that we descend beneath the surface of the city. This passageway feels interminable, but that could very well just be my nerves, drawing out every passing moment. I become aware, as we continue, of a low vibration rattling up through my feet. The buzz grows louder, stronger, the further along we creep. Finally, the men draw to a halt, collecting at the end of the hall before another gatekeeper.
“Enjoy the show,” another unfamiliar voice tells us.
My senses are overcome as a second door bursts open before us. Bright swinging lights blind me as a cacophonous roar washes over the lot of us like a raging tide. For a good few moments, my equilibrium is shot. Only as Sam ferries me through the door can I even begin to make sense of the scene unfolding before me.