Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Rage needed to let Lyric know she now had a place to land and could move out of her parents’ house.
But for now, that could wait.
Chapter Eighteen
Between Rage, Chill, Zeke, Vi, and the rest of the active-duty Shadows, the small conference room at the warehouse was packed.
Vi sat at one end of the six-person table, Zeke at the other.
Chill sat to one side of the DAMC president like he did at their own table, and the rest of the seats were taken up by Grim, Ghost, T-Bone, and Indigo.
Rage and Reaper leaned against the back wall.
“Room and table’s too small,” Zeke complained. “Even without Scarlet here.”
Vi rolled her eyes. “Stop whining. It’s the perfect size for my team. All right, time to let our intelligence expert give us an update.”
All eyes turned to Vi’s middle sister, Indie. Rage swore his younger cousin didn’t own one damn piece of feminine clothing. No dresses, no skirts or blouses; nothing but cargo or tactical pants, combat boots, and skin-tight Under Armor-type shirts or G.I. Jane tank tops. A tactical belt circled her narrow waist and held a double magazine pouch, a knife sheath, and two holsters: one for her Glock, the other for pepper spray.
He swore the way she dressed always made her look like she was ready to trek through the jungles of Vietnam.
She was never going to attract a man dressed like that.
Diesel probably approved of the way Indie looked solely due to that reason. Not that it mattered, since there was no way D’s daughters were bringing a man home to their parents.
Not if they wanted a chance for another date.
“Why you gotta look like G.I. Jane all the fuckin’ time?” Zeke asked her, wrinkling his nose.
Indie’s eyebrows rose. “When I picked out my clothes this morning, you were the last person I thought about.”
“You picked that shit out on purpose? Bet you don’t get laid often.”
While Rage agreed with Zeke, he was smart enough to keep his asshole thoughts to himself.
Apparently Zeke was in the mood for an ass kicking, because he was poking a hellcat and might end up with a sharp claw slicing his damn throat.
He was damn sure Indie could teach the DAMC president a hard lesson. Or two. If that happened, Rage would stay right where he was and enjoy the fucking entertainment.
Vi sighed loudly. “You’re in my house right now. You need to respect it and us.”
“We’re here for help, brother, not to insult our cousins,” Chill reminded Zeke.
“Just sayin’ it as I see it.”
“Better to keep your thoughts in your little pea brain, instead,” Indie advised him.
Rage saw that Grim, Ghost, and T-Bone were struggling to keep from bursting out in laughter. Their loyalty was clearly torn between their president and their fellow team member.
Maybe it wasn’t so damn smart to let Shadows become DAMC members or vice versa.
Rage side-eyed Reaper to see him fighting a smirk.
“All right, let’s hear what you came up with,” Rage prodded Indie. They were there for info and a plan, not for a pissing contest.
“Did some digging around for a crime family that would benefit in taking Pittsburgh from the Russos.”
“More Sicilians?” Chill asked.
Indie shook her head. “No. I couldn’t find any other Sicilian crime families within a reasonable distance. Since no one would normally be going up against the Russos—at least from what I could find—we’ll have to manufacture a war between them. If that’s the direction we go.”
“Between who?” Rage asked.
“I found a Chinese drug cartel in Ohio, believe it or not. They’re manufacturing and selling fentanyl, as well as shipping that and some other drugs to different countries, too.”
“How’re they gettin’ away with shippin’ it to other countries?” Chill asked.
Indie shrugged. “Beats the shit out of me. Ask the DEA. Anyway, that part wasn’t my focus. I was looking for an organization similar to the Mafia that would realistically see a financial benefit to either taking over the Russos’ territory or stopping the Russos from selling so they could grab that market.”
Rage had to admit his beast of an uncle produced some damn intelligent women. Everyone underestimated Diesel by assuming he wasn’t smart because of how he acted, but he was a goddamn genius, and he certainly passed that trait on to his daughters. Their mother, Jewel, wasn’t a dummy, either.
“The Chen family is like the Russos, but instead of being labeled the mob or Mafia, in China, they’re called a Triad.”
This was more shit than Rage ever wanted to know about crime families. “Do these fuckin’ Triads normally go head to head with the Mafia?”
Reaper’s first word uttered since the meeting began was a simple, “No.”
“What d’you know about ‘em?” Rage asked him.
“Not much. But like Indie said, their organization is similar to the Mafia. Triads will do whatever makes them a shit-ton of money. Whether it’s fraud, extortion, money laundering, drug or sex trafficking, illegal gambling, or counterfeit goods. Just like any other criminal organization.”