Their Queenpin (The Ridge MC #6)

Chapter 20Adelina

Chapter Twenty

Adelina

BOOM!

I jumped and spun around to look at the screens.

Ka-BOOOOM , came a second explosion.

The deep rumbling explosion was probably muffled by the audio channels we were using, but my men were still too close if it was that loud. The pictures on two of the four screens in front of Ward jiggled violently and went white. Lines fluttered across them, and the feeds stopped.

In our forty-third-floor war room at the Parisi Hotel and Casino, I stopped chewing my cuticle and slowly lowered my hand as I watched the big-screen displays in horror.

“What the fuck happened?” I asked, moving forward. My stomach twisted, everything inside churning and clawing its way up my throat. I’d been pacing behind where Ward and his three proteges—Cipher, Glitch, and now Ghost—were monitoring the action.

Also helping monitor the intel, Ghost had headphones on with police call logs rolling up the screen he was watching. He didn’t seem to notice the explosions, and I wondered for a hot second if he was phoning it in. Where the other two prospects were now was anyone’s guess.

But with the situation on screen, I didn’t have energy to focus on the prospects.

One of Ward’s men pecked away on the keyboard, and the other—Glitch, maybe? Or was it Cipher?—said, “Something blew. Knocked out the cameras Rafe set roadside.”

“Are they okay?” I asked, coming to stand between and just behind Ward’s apprentices.

Ghost was probably closer to Sas’s age, but the other two were young, and I had never seen them around the club, but they wore cuts, nonetheless. They did not, however, wear club patches. Prospects at the most. The one on my right swiveled his chair to face me, so I caught his name on the cut.

Cipher.

“Think they got away,” he said, “but can’t be sure. You catch it, Ward?”

“Nah,” he answered, then held his hand to his earpiece. “They’re not answering either. You got anything on the ticker, Ghost?”

The prospect stroked his beard, and his dark eyes met mine before he answered, “Nothin’.”

I averted my gaze and rubbed my forearms where the hairs stood on end.

Then, to do something—anything—I grabbed my phone and stared at the silent screen as though I could use the stupid Force from Star Wars to make Rafe or Graff call and tell me they were alive.

My hands turned clammy, and I rubbed them off on my skirt as I fought the nausea rising like a dust storm.

“Don’t tell me you’re nervous, my daughter?” asked my father behind me.

Every muscle in my body went rigid. I had forgotten that he’d come down to monitor the operation too. I shouldn’t have, because I had to let him in. But he had promised he and his men would stay out of the action and just observe.

My attention had been solely focused on Graff and Rafe, trying to follow their movements through the darkened night. Everything else could wait until they were safe. The communications and static hadn’t told me much, but it seemed clear to The Warden what was happening at every step of the way.

But my full attention glued to the operation left me with a blind side.

I needed to remember that. “Of course I’m nervous, Papà. Don’t tell me you’re not worried about your brother out there.”

My father shrugged, and I rolled my eyes as I continued wearing grooves into the plush carpet.

My pacing had started as I tried to stay out of Ward’s way while still being connected. Once Rafe and Graff left the van, there had been too much going on in my earpiece for me to keep it plugged in. The sounds had been filled with rustling and then gunshots, and finally lots of orders about getting the crates loaded.

I’d ripped the thing out and thrown it on the desk in front of Ward.

Still, the screens kept me riveted. I watched, waiting and holding my breath for the second I knew everyone I loved out there was safe.

But that didn’t come.

“I didn’t realize you would be so concerned for your uncle,” Papà said, needling me.

And Graff , I silently added. I pointed at the screen. “He’s in the line of those bullets.”

“That’s the business.” The Don , not Papà, shrugged.

Cold rage washed over me as I realized that the explosion, regardless of who might’ve been in the line of fire, could be attributed directly to my father’s twisted views of business. I worked my jaw because he would give me that excuse every single time—this business was illegal and usually included guns.

Explosions were a norm.

It was dangerous.

Rolling my shoulders back, I walked over to where he sat behind a desk that he’d had brought in for himself. An act intended to remind us that he’d “helped” with this endeavor, as though anyone would call having Boomer on their team helpful.

“You, Father, are the reason we’re flying blind right now.” I seethed, curling and releasing my fingers at my sides.

He spread his hands and then steepled his fingers, “I’ve been here with you the whole time, Adelina. I don’t see how I could’ve given the orders for that.”

I leaned onto the surface, pinning him with my stare. “What exact orders did you give to Boomer?”

“Same orders I give to all my men in the field.” Father smirked. “Do the needful.”

“And you didn’t think twice about that order with your bomb-loving fixer?” I cocked my head to the side.

“He’s got the job for a reason, mia figlia.”

I sucked in a breath and closed my eyes for a split second to find my center. There was red around the edges when I opened them, but right now, I needed to focus on getting Rafe, Graff, and the others out. “When my men’s lives are on the line, it’s more than business. If you can’t get behind that, leave.”

“Your men?” He raised his chin, letting that little implied accusation simmer.

“Obviously not your idiot fixer or the cleaners, but the others, yes. You made them mine when you dropped me off at that shop in Park Ridge.”

My father waved a hand in the air as though he were brushing away a fly. “They’re all wearing Kevlar. Anyway, don’t you trust all the tactical skills Rafe gained in the military?”

Balling my hands into fists, I shoved them into my pockets. Detaching, I forced the expected calm and objective tone into my voice. “I understand, Father.”

I was done with this. With him and his nonchalance where people were concerned. But it scared the hell out of me that I might have to become everything I hated about him in order to stay sane and control my own destiny in this life.

“I would think so.” My father scoffed. “After what happened with your husband.”

“Yeah, you would think,” I replied in a low voice, resigning myself to the fact that my father would never be a family man. He would never allow emotions to tie him to people. In those regards, he was little more than the person who knocked up Mamà.

He wasn’t wrong in that Sas was proof of danger in this life—whether MC or Mafia. But the difference between my husband and father was that my father never showed signs of worry. At least Sas had thrown his body over mine when I’d been shot at. At least my husband stood up to the cartel’s Rojas brothers when they leered at me.

“You look tense, Adelina,” said my father. Fuck, he loved to hear himself speak.

I gave him a slow nod. “To be expected.”

“Perhaps you should join the women. It’s a, shall we say, less stressful place to be.”

I rolled my eyes. “Aren’t Mamà and Caterina out shopping?”

“Indeed.” He picked up his phone and started scrolling. “I told your mother to get a nice bottle of wine for tonight.”

“She does that every night.” She spent money like there was no tomorrow, causing more than one fight between my parents. But with everything I was learning about my father recently, I was starting to think Mamà was in love with money.

“Yes, but Caterina will have a taste tonight.”

“That’s rich!” I laughed. Caterina drank all the time and had basically been drinking wine since she was seven.

But his face was dead serious.

Raising my brows, I glared at him. Either he was being na?ve or stirring the pot.

Fuck. The realization smacked me upside the head. Papà was distracting me from the heist that was seemingly over, but Rafe and Graff weren’t safe yet. I needed to focus on them, but he was still smiling at me, like he had when I was little, knowing it made me feel like the most special person alive.

What BS.

Now—between him and me—it almost worked again. I hated how he manipulated things so easily, refocusing me and removing the stress.

“I don’t have time for this,” I said as I turned back to the screens.

“Teller?” called the Warden. “Would you fucking answer?”

Ward pressed a button and then one more and the computer dialed again.

“Something happen?” I asked, crossing my arms and moving toward the action again.

“He sped off alone,” said Ward. “Teller!”

“What?” Teller answered.

“’Bout goddamn time.” Ward sighed

“What the fuck ya want?”

“Where you heading?” Ward asked, his voice steady, though the silence that followed weighed on my shoulders.

“Taking insurance back to LA,” Teller replied. Then, without warning, the line cut off with a cold click .

“Teller?” Ward said into the mic, his voice sharp now. “Teller?”

Nothing.

The absence of sound prickled down my spine like the chill of winter wind. Ward pushed away from the desk in his rolling chair, his hands resting still and heavy on the armrests.

Insurance? That single word hung between us, a loose thread. Something wrong about it, off in a way I couldn’t shake. There’d been a strange finality in his voice, like he’d said what needed to be said—and nothing more.

The hacker’s face was unreadable, no clue, no tell.

A knot crept up in my throat, and I swallowed, my mind circling. Insurance? Why wouldn’t Teller respond? What game was he playing?

I leaned closer to Ward, keeping my voice low. “What’s he up to?”

Ward’s eyes flicked to mine. He didn’t answer.

Whatever Teller was up to wasn’t sitting right.

Ward finally gave a shrug that said he really didn’t know. “I guess it has to do with the girl he found.”

“Girl?” I scowled.

Cipher piped up, “Missed that part, eh?”

I glanced at the map Ward still had up on the screen. Three red dots moved down the highway, one significantly ahead of the others. And then that red dot blinked out of existence.

“Goddamnit!” Ward banged on the desk with both hands and glanced back at the Don.

I strode over and bent beside him, lowering my voice. “What did he mean by insurance?”

Ward murmured for my ears only, “He’s got half the shipment in that SUV along with some beaten-up girl.”

“Do we still have enough?” I asked.

He pursed his lips. “No way to know until I set eyes on the goods.” His eyes flicked back to my father. “Bigger question: will we have enough after we give half to your father?”

“If that’s the case,” I said, “it sounds like Teller made the right call. Half of half is more than my dad deserves.”

My role in this pivoted. Now, I was working squarely for the MC. I’d should’ve accepted that fact as soon as my father made the deal for my hand in marriage. But I’d been in denial. Things were getting crystal clear now.

He always wanted me to spy on the club. While I crouched beside The Warden, my father’s eyes bored into the back of me, but I was done with his shit—and La Famiglia.

In that moment, I had truly joined the MC.

“Keep working, Ward. Get them back online,” I demanded, ignoring the Mafia presence in the back of the room.

My phone rang. Who the fuck was calling me now? I ripped it out of my pocket.

A notification came across the lock screen.

Graff: Heading back now. See you soon. Love you.

My finger hovered over the little phone icon. I wanted to hear his voice—to call him now—but I couldn’t. I had no idea where he was or if they were in danger still, and a ringing phone might be the ticket that got him shot.

Thankfully, a few seconds later, a sound came over the rigged-up computers. Hell, all the audio and visual equipment seemed tied into the system Ward had hooked up in this room.

Ward pressed a button. “Talk to me.”

“We’re good.” Wilde’s voice sounded like chimes from heaven.

My shoulders relaxed.

“Why’d we lose coms?” asked Ward.

After a blip of static, Wilde answered, “Shit was smooth until Boomer. Almost had to put the van in the ditch. We’re starting the drive back.”

I leaned toward the computer. “How’s Rafe? Graff?” I paused then added, “Boomer and his guys?”

“Everyone’s in one piece,” he replied.

In the background, Rafe’s hollow voice piped up, “We’re safe, Adelina.”

The knife in my gut twisted at the sound. It was the voice that said he was physically okay but might go dark at any moment. I sighed, only half relieved, and pressed the button again. “Non sparire, zio Rafaele, e torna da me.? 1 ”

Wilde continued, “The Don’s men blew the U-Haul. Probably a good thing that any evidence is obliterated, but shit, that fucker’s reckless.”

Ward typed on one of the keyboards. “I’ll get in and make sure we’re covered on the cop front.”

“Setup some media monitoring on the sitch while you’re at it,” ordered Prez.

“You got it,” said Ward. “Grab an energy drink for the road.”

“Drive safe,” I added.

The line died.

I turned back to my father who remained behind his desk. “I’m not sure what your interest in these diamonds is, Papà, but you can go back to whatever it is you do day in and day out.”

“Money makes the world spin. I provided the men, the explosives, the van they’re using, and the SUVs. My interest is simple: return on investment.”

No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t walk over and scrub that smug smile from his face. Another thing I needed to remember when playing with the big boys was that I needed to be utterly controlled at every moment.

Putting on my best business face, I deadpanned, “That’s not all there is, Papà.”

He pushed himself from the chair, buttoning the top sports-coat button. “Adelina?—”

“No.” I gave him my hand. “I’ve got another matter to deal with.”

Sas.

Massimo Parisi spread his arms like he would welcome me into a hug. “Mia figlia.”

But I feared that the embrace would be lined with razor blades. “I’m not doing this, Father .” I couldn’t bring myself to call him Don or Massimo aloud, but it was time to abandon the more affectionate terms.

I clapped Ward on the shoulder. “Thanks for everything you’ve done here.”

He stood and offered me his hand, something I hadn’t seen him do to anyone—Wilde included. “Once we’ve got everything wrapped, my boys will clear out our equipment.”

Clapping my small palm against his, I shook once, keeping my grip strong around his firm handshake. “Back to LA?”

“Yup,” he answered with a wink. “My palms are itching for my bella, if you read me.”

Something about my exchange with the Warden told me this was as close as I’d get to a thank you . I had purchased the equipment, but it was clearly now club property. And I was A-okay with that little fact.

Papà stood as I crossed to the door, so once I threw it open, I paused and glared back at him. “I’ll stop in upstairs when I’m done, and we can discuss without your minions.”

I stepped out and slammed the door behind me. Not letting go of the handle, I leaned back and dropped my head backward. “This is all my problem now, and so help me God, I’m going to make sure the MC comes out on top. Sas, hang in there. We’re coming.”

1 ? Don’t vanish (or fade away), Uncle Rafe, and come back to me.