Sinner’s Redemption by Rebecca Joyce
Chapter Twenty-Four
Montana
I walked into the Gentlemen’s club to find the club girls all sitting at one of the tables. A few of the brothers lounged near them, not talking as they looked at their phones.
The patrons, long gone.
Finding Payne, I walked over to him as he said, “Club’s cleared. Shame is in the office right now, taking apart the computers. Storm is in the security room. He found something. You’re not going to like it. I called in your dad and the Rejects. They will meet us at the clubhouse later.”
Nodding, I looked at the girls. “What about them?”
“All are clean except Stacie. That bitch is a piece of work. Barney wasn’t lying when he said she had a hard-on for you. She’s been siphoning information to the West Coast Bratva. More specifically, she’s a sleeper for Boris Petrovitch.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me?”
“Wish I was. Bitch has her hands in all kinds of shit.”
No wonder the bitch was so hard-up to get to me. Fuck me. That nasty piece thought she could use her body to get information out of me. Well, she was going to get her wish, but I was pretty damn sure she wasn’t going to like the attention I gave her.
“Fuck,” I cursed, as Mercy walked out of a room heading towards me. “Before you say it, I’ve already put out the distress signal. They are all on their way over.”
Nodding, I looked at Payne. “Get the other girls out of here. Give them two weeks’ severance and tell them to take a vacation. The club is under new management. As for that cunt,” I said, pointing at Stacie. “Take her to the mailroom. I’ll deal with her later.”
Payne left, leaving me alone with Mercy.
“What did Payne leave out?”
“Barney’s been laundering cash from Petrovitch through his club. He then funnels it to Benson in West Virginia, who deposits it into an offshore account. However, from what Storm found out, Petrovitch found out that Benson was stealing from him.”
“Shocker,” I deadpanned.
“Yeah,” Mercy said, shaking his head. “It gets worse, brother. Petrovitch sent some men to West Virginia to acquire Benson. Fucker is gone. However, Benson left a parting gift. Information.”
“Information on what?”
“Apparently Barney and Benson are second cousins or some shit. They’ve been working together since the beginning. To hedge their bets and ensure they live, they’ve gathered all kinds of information on all of us, Maxim and his crew, the Romano and Valentinetti Families, even information on Kansas’ club, the Diamondbacks. Montana, he knows who Dakota’s protecting.”
“Fuck!” I roared, picking up a chair and throwing it across the room.
“Yeah, motherfucker left it all for Petrovitch. Everything, brother. Our club affiliations, business contacts, family members, everything. Petrovitch now knows where to hit us and hit us hard.”
“Where is Benson?”
“In the wind. If the fucker knows what’s good for him, he better dig a deep dark hole and bury himself because when we let the others know, there won’t be a place he can hide. He just made himself number one on all of our hit lists.”
A loud whistle had me turning as Maxim Fedorov walked into the Gentlemen’s club along with several of his men. Dressed impeccably, the big Russian was something else, that was for sure. There wasn’t a fucker in New York City that didn’t know who he was and what he did. Those who had the privilege of speaking with the East Coast Bratva Don never lived long enough to tell their tale.
The man wasn’t called the Bloodletter for nothing.
“Montana,” Maxim greeted, extending a leather gloved hand.
Taking it, I sighed. “I wish this was under better circumstances, Maxim. We have a problem.”
Maxim grinned. “And how’s that?”
“Boris Petrovitch.”
Maxim sighed, shaking his head. “He’s west coast Bratva, my friend. He doesn’t do business on the east coast.”
“Yeah, well, shit has changed,” I growled, trying to assimilate the cluster of a motherfucker Barney put me in. I wasn’t even going to think about the other families. We all had a bullseye on our backs now thanks to two greedy fucks. Life was about to get really interesting in my city. “We’ve got a lot to discuss in the coming days, but right now, I’m going to need your help.”
“Boss!” a Bratva brother shouted, halting our conversation as the front doors opened again and in walked Renaldo Romano with his brother Romeo. Behind them was Salvatore Valentinetti.
The Italian Mafia had arrived.
“Gentlemen,” I greeted, as Maxim and Salvatore stared each other down. “My V.P. sent out the distress call because all of us have a problem.”
“Yeah, you do, Montana,” Salvatore Valentinetti sneered at Maxim. “And I’m looking at him right now.” I knew there was no love lost between Fedorov and the Valentinetti Family. People widely knew that Illyria Valentinetti and Maxim had dated for a while. While most of us thought the Russian Bloodletter finally met his match, that he would be the one to tame the hot-headed Italian Mafia Princess, only their relationship ended spectacularly, with Illyria slowly buying up and dismantling everything Maxim built. Nobody knew what caused the two to separate, but they sure were fun to watch when in public together.
“I’ve just recently learned that Benson Graves survived.”
That shut Salvatore up.
“Excuse me?” Renaldo said.
“He’s dead,” Salvatore added.
“He better be dead,” Maxim growled.
“And it gets worse. Barney used this club to syphon intel and launder Petrovitch’s money.”
“Where is Benson?” Maxim asked.
“Gone. But before he left, he gave Petrovitch a parting gift. Information on all of us. Everything, gentlemen, from businesses to family information. He now knows everything about us.”
And just like that, three of the biggest names in the New York crime syndicate reached for their phones and started making calls. Looking at Mercy, I didn’t have to say anything.
My V.P. was already on the phone issuing orders.
The clubhouse was quiet when I walked in.
It was like a damned ghost town, except for Silver, who was manning the bar. Heading straight for the bar, I asked, “Everything ready?”
“Yep. Got your back, Prez. No worries.”
“Good girl,” I said, leaning across the bar, quickly kissing her cheek before heading to the mailroom, where I knew Malice was not patiently waiting for me. Also known as a wet room for most clubs, it was where clubs, families, whatever got down to business. The heart of the matter.
Literally.
Some clubs called it the cellar, the tomb, the bunker, anything to set the place apart from the clubhouse. It was where a club got answers. Where men and women bled for their crimes and got a first-class ticket to hell. If anybody found themselves in a club’s ‘wet room’, they knew they weren’t coming out alive.
They never did.
To this day, I still knocked on the heavy iron door before entering Malice’s domain. Malice would throw a hissy fit if anyone didn’t show common courtesy and respect before entering the mailroom. Failure to ask before entering caused drama. Malice would sulk, refusing to let anyone in his space until we all apologized. Apparently, we were heathens and because we didn’t practice the catholic religion, our souls were damned to burn in hell for eternity.
We ignored him but knocked before entering the mailroom.
Knocking twice, I opened the door, knowing the moody fucker wouldn’t respond. He never did when he had a guest.
Looking around the medieval room with wrought-iron sconces and brick walls, the place was a replica of the Oratorio dei Discillini, in the town of Clustone, in Lombardy, Italy. Once home to a brotherhood of religious individuals known as the Disciplinati or the ‘Disciplined’. They believed through torture and self-punishment, they could absolve themselves of sin by experiencing the pain of Christ firsthand, thereby bringing them closer to God.
Of course, the St. Andrew’s Cross displayed in the middle of the room was all Malice.
Fucker dabbled in some serious kink.
I found Malice sitting in a wooden chair that he had reclined against the cold, damp wall while he ate another apple. That chair had to be the most uncomfortable piece of furniture I ever saw, but Malice sat in it like it was a Lazy Boy recliner. Malice was an enigma. Never could read the fucker. He rarely, if ever, smiled. He hated talking and was handy with a knife. Most of the club feared him, yet he was a devout Catholic. Never missed mass. Then there was his love of apples. I didn’t know what his obsessions was with apples, but the fucker was always eating one.
Walking over to him, I leaned against the wall, noticing his handy work. On the Saint Andrew Cross, hung Barney. Naked as the day he was born, the man couldn’t say shit, thanks to the ball-gag in his mouth.
“Thought I said to wait for me?”
“He talks too much.” Malice muttered.
Shaking my head, I added, “Got a big meeting in an hour. Need you and Payne at my side.”
“Busy.”
“Then get un-busy. I need you upstairs.”
“Fine,” Malice groaned, throwing the core of his apple at Barney, who whimpered, pissing himself.
Getting to his feet, Malice followed me out of the mailroom, turning off the lights behind him. As the door shut, I smiled, hearing Barney scream.
The first to arrive was Giovanni Valentinetti with his brothers, Salvatore and Lorenzo, along with a handful of their cousins. The Valentinetti’s ran Chicago but had major holdings and connections in New York City. Their sister, Illyria, ran Valentine Industries, which encompassed everything from household goods to the entertainment industry. Rumored to be stepping down as head of the family, it was a shock to see Giovanni.
“Giovanni,” I greeted. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Montana,” the silent but firm Italian acknowledged, shaking my hand. “A family matter. Nothing more. Is it true?”
I nodded. “Yes. Let’s wait until everyone else arrives before we discuss anything. How is your lovely wife?”
Gio smiled. “Beautiful as ever, and pregnant again. She is not happy with me.”
I laughed. “Children are a blessing, my friend, as I’ve just recently discovered.”
“I heard the wonderful news. Congratulations on your son.”
“Thank you,” I replied, when the doors opened and in walked Renaldo Romero with his brothers, Romeo and Rico. Renaldo did not look happy, nor did I blame him. This was a clusterfuck of epic proportions. One, I had assumed my father had taken care of years ago.
As Renaldo greeted Giovanni, Mercy stepped up beside me and whispered, “I’ve got brothers watching the house. Tessa and York are safe. Your dad just dropped your mom off at Stone House. He and the Rejects are on their way in.”
I nodded as Renaldo looked around and asked, “Where is the Bloodletter?”
“Hasn’t arrived yet,” I replied, then turned to my guests. “Gentlemen, the bar is open. As soon as Fedorov arrives, we will begin.”
The next to arrive was my brother Kansas with Pence and his enforcer Whisper. Baby brother did not look happy. “What the fuck is going on? Dad showed up with mom and told me to get my ass here. I don’t like leaving Kali alone and why is Stone House surrounded? Does this have anything to do with what we talked about earlier?”
“Later,” I whispered. “Mom and the girls are safe. I wouldn’t have included you if you weren’t involved.”
“I’m not involved,” my brother seethed. “I’m not part of this club anymore. Remember?”
“As long as the brand is on your back, you are.”
“Fuck you, Montana. We made an agreement. I’m out.”
“We’ll never be out,” a gruff, stern voice said, walking out of the shadows. Turning, I stared in disbelief as my brother Arizona made himself known.
I hadn’t seen him in close to twenty years.
He’d changed so much.
No longer the tall, rail thin bookworm I remembered. Arizona now stood tall, built and from the glint in his eyes, he was extremely dangerous. Dressed in black leather pants and a dark red long-sleeved Henley, my brother glared at me as if I were the enemy. Muscle bound and tattooed, Arizona’s steel eyes stared daggers at me as he growled, “This better be fucking good, Montana.”
I couldn’t find words.
It had been so long since I’d been around one of my brothers, let alone two of them. The only one missing was Dakota, who was babysitting a high-profile client of the club. I couldn’t think what it would be like if Dakota showed up.
The four Stone Brothers, all in the same room. I would have thought hell had definitely frozen over, for sure.
“Thank you for coming.”
“Don’t want your thanks. Why am I here?”
“MY BOYS!”
Groaning, I rolled my eyes as our dad and the Rejects walked into the clubhouse as if this meeting was some fucking long lost family reunion. Stepping out of the way as dad hugged and greeted Arizona, then slapped Kansas on the back. I looked over at Snoopy, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. In fact, all the Rejects did, including Happy, who was looking everywhere but at me.
“Happy?”
The club chaplain flinched. “Yeah?”
“Got something on your mind, you old coot?”
“Just making sure the mean one isn’t here.”
I narrowed my eyes at the old fucker and asked, “And why’s that?”
“Because he knows he has an ass beating coming,” The missing Stone brother said, walking through the club doors for the first time since he was eighteen years old. Dressed in Army camo pants and combat boots, with a skintight black cotton shirt, Dakota Stone was not the brother I remembered. Standing with his bulky arms crossed over his firm chest, my brother stared blankly at me as if I was nothing but a stranger.
There was no love lost between me and Dakota.
Like Kansas, Dakota wanted nothing to do with the club. The only reason I got him to agree to the protection detail was because of the brand on his back. Also, like Kansas, Dakota flat out refused to pay club dues. The last time I even mentioned it to him, he told me if I so much as dared to step foot near him, he would rip my heart out with his bare hands.
“You’re supposed to be on babysitting duty,” I sneered.
“Go fuck yourself.”
“Is she safe?”
Dakota glared, fire blazing in his eyes. “I said, fuck off.”
“Who’s watching her, asshole?”
Silence.
“So, we are all in agreement?” I asked, looking around the table at the men, who all silently nodded. “Good. Maxim and his crew will cover the docks. Romano will work with Salvatore on the south and west side of the city, and I will cover the east and north side. First sign of Graves or Petrovitch, shoot to kill. The Valentinetti’s will cover distribution in Chicago and help when needed here. Anything else that needs to be discussed?”
“What about the Gentlemen’s club?” Giovanni asked, “It’s neutral territory. Always has been.”
“I’ve been giving that some thought. What do you all say about going into business together? A joint venture. I say we give the club to someone we trust and split the profits amongst ourselves evenly. Keep the name and use it as our designated meeting place from now on.”
“Won’t work,” Maxim said. “There’s no way we can get our crews to go along.”
“As much as I hate agreeing with that fucker,” Salvatore muttered. “He’s right. A biker club, Bratva and Mafia all in one place. It would be bloodshed.”
“Not if someone we all trusted and respected oversaw everything and ruled with an iron fist. Someone who is a master at keeping the peace. Someone who every man at this table is a bit intimidated by but would kill to protect.”
Renaldo chuckled. “Sorry Montana, but there is no one I trust that much.”
“Yes, there is,” I stated, grinning at Maxim, who was glaring daggers at me.
“Forget about it,” Maxim growled, clenching his fist tightly.
Giovanni shook his head, grinning. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You seriously want to put them both in the same city? They will kill each other, cause a bloody war.”
“No!” Salvatore shouted, slamming his hand on the table.
“Gotta admit. It’s a brilliant idea. Montana’s right. Everyone here fears her, and we would all die to protect her. The question I think we all need to ask is, will she do it? Because the last I checked, she wants his dick framed and hanging on her wall.” Lorenzo chuckled, waving his hand towards Maxim, who scowled mulishly.
“It’s not my dick,” he muttered. “She wants my heart on her wall.”
Lorenzo laughed. “That’s right. She’s having a dart board made so she can stab it every time she thinks of you.”
“Go to hell, Valentinetti,” Maxim cursed.
Chuckling, I leaned forward. “So, we’re all in agreement. We will hand the Gentlemen’s club over to Illyria Valentinetti. She will run the club as she sees fit, and we will split the profits evenly. From now on, we will hold all meetings on neutral grounds. Agreed?”
Everyone nodded, even Maxim…reluctantly.
The room slowly emptied as the meeting ended. Walking over to the bar, Silver smiled as she slid a glass of whiskey my way.
God, I loved that girl. Quiet as a mouse and loyal to a fault.
Taking a sip, I noticed Giovanni walking my way before he took a seat at the bar next to me. He pointed at my drink, letting Silver know he wanted the same as she smiled, grabbing another glass.
For as long as I’ve known Giovanni, the man was never in a rush. He did things in his own time, rarely, if ever, getting flustered. So, when he sat and ordered a drink, it was a shock when he started talking.
“I’m letting you know that I’m handing over the family business to Sal. If you need anything in the future, he will be the one you need to contact.”
“Should I be worried?”
“No. It’s time. I’m tired Montana. I’ve lost so much because of this life. Now my wife is pregnant with another bambino. I refuse to let my children grow up without a father. I won’t put my wife through that. I can’t.”
Everyone knew about the Valentinetti Family. From the shores of Italy, the Valentinetti Family fled their homeland with a price on their heads, only to rise and create a dynasty that’s lasted generations. There wasn’t a single person who hadn’t heard the name Valentinetti. It was synonymous with respect and bloodshed.
“Not gonna be the same without you.”
Gio grinned. “Look around, my friend. We are the odd ones out. The younger generation is making its move. Soon we will be a footnote in history.”
“Speak for yourself. I’m still young and handsome.”
“You are a year older than me,” he deadpanned.
I chuckled. “If you ever need anything, you know where I’m at.”
“Thank you.”
As the last visitor left, I looked at Silver and ordered, “Head to bed, sweetheart.”
Silver looked at my brothers standing behind me, waiting for the pretty bartender to leave. She didn’t need to see or hear what was coming next. Nodding, Silver dropped her white dish rag on the bar, walked around the long wooden counter, quickly gave me a kiss on the cheek before disappearing into her bedroom.
Mercy tilted his head, questioning me.
Shaking mine, I stated, “It’s okay, Mercy. I can handle them. Same goes for the rest of you. Head on home. We will talk more in the morning. Board meeting at nine sharp.”
My club brothers said nothing as they too filed out of the clubhouse. When the man left, shutting the door behind him, I turned around, leaned against the bar and saw the eyes of my brothers.
All three of them.
For the first time in twenty years, we were all in the same damn room. It was no small feat for sure. Was a damn shame it took something like this to make it happen.
“No boys,” dad said sternly, getting to his feet. “We ain’t got time for this shit.”
“Stay out of it, old man,” Dakota sneered, never taking his eyes off me. “This has been a long time coming.”
Footsteps on the stairs had us all turning.
“Fuck,” I moaned, seeing who it was.
Fuck me. I forgot all about him being here.
“My night just got a hell of a lot better,” August said, grinning as he stumbled drunk down the steps, holding a half empty bottle of rum. “Tell me, Montana. How are you going to get out of this?”
“Bane, go sober up. This has nothing to do with you.”
“This has everything to do with me. Because of you four fuckers, my sister is dead. All because that little pissant fucker couldn’t keep his dick in his pants,” he said, pointing a finger at Kansas.
“Jesus,” Arizona groaned. “Is fuck nut still butt hurt because of what happened twenty years ago?”
“Yeah,” Kansas replied angrily, crossing his arms over his chest. “Fucker can’t let the past go.”
“That’s rich coming from you. How many women have died now because of you?”
Before we could grab him, Kansas tackled the drunk fucker to the ground. Punching the bastard repeatedly, it took me and Arizona to get Kansas off Bane. “You sick motherfucker! You say another word and I will fucking gut you!”
Bane laughed manically. “Like your club brother did to Katie?”
Fuck me. This was going to be a long night.