“Honey, we’re home,” Slider yelled, the noise echoing in the vast open space.

There was suddenly a flurry of movement. Men yelling, the safety being clicked off guns. I watched Anthony’s face go from relaxed to infuriated in less than two seconds. He pushed his chair back and slowly rose to his feet. I wasn’t intimidated even as more of his men flooded the space. I would do anything to get Chelsea back and that included staring death in the eye and screaming fuck you. Which seemed now to be exactly what I was doing.

We stood inside the room at a complete standoff. Anthony and I glared at each other, waiting for the other to speak or make a move. Guns were drawn, the threat of violence filling the space quickly.

“I want her back, now,” I ordered, taking a step forward and drawing more than one gun to me as I moved closer to their boss.

“You do not come into my home and begin making orders,” Anthony said firmly.

I almost screamed. “But you can come to my home and take my woman?!”

I saw the anger on his face waiver and turn to confusion. “I have done no such thing.”

“Bullshit,” I snapped, ripping my gun from the holster at my side and pointing it straight at him. “You’re the only asshole ballsy enough to drive up to my front gates for some little pow-wow and then drive off. Nobody else is stupid as fuck like you.”

He took a step forward. “Watch your mouth.”

“Oh wait, you couldn’t even come and do it yourself. You had to be backhanded and sneaky and send in a young girl to do your dirty work,” I ground out slowly, trying to keep my anger at bay.

“If you’d done your research properly you’d find I have one daughter, and I know exactly where she is and what she’s doing right now,” he sneered, walking closer but choosing to take a seat in an expensive looking armchair in the small living room area. It was meant to be an insult, telling me I wasn’t even worth standing to greet which I wasn’t polite. “So before you come in here, making accusations—”

“Then who the fuck is Rose?” Blizzard demanded, coming to stand next to me.

I caught the surprise on his face before he masked it. But it wasn’t just him. I recognized two of the other men in the room, they were his sons and their eyes were fixed on their father, full of curiosity and questions.

“Rosalie?” One of them asked, taking a step closer to their father.

“And who is Rosalie?” I growled, imitating the posh way his son had said her name.

He hit me with a sharp glare before finding his composure again.

“Rosalie is my niece.”

“Well, your fucking niece showed up outside my compound, pointed a gun at my Old Lady and forced her into a car. After spending the last couple months pretending to be her friend,” I said, pointing my finger at him.

“Not possible,” he said, tapping his fingers on the arm of the leather chair. “My niece is on the other side of the country at college in California.”

“Then who the fuck was sitting outside my clubhouse pointing a gun at my Old Lady a couple hours ago?” I snapped. “She yelled that the club had killed her family. And as far as I am aware, you are the only person with that kind of vendetta against us.”

His lips drew into a thin line as he glared at me across the room. I thought he was about to let loose, but instead he yelled, “Grant!”

I looked around the room, stopping when one of his men stepped forward. He was a gangly looking guy, hair slicked back with too much gel and arrogance seeping from his pores.

“Sir,” he said, his eyes staying focused on my men as he came closer.

Anthony didn’t look at him. “Where is Rosalie?”

I saw the corner of his lip twitch like he wanted to smile. “Cali, sir.”

“That’s a lie.” Ham moved swiftly to my side. I turned my head to him, curious.

“Grant is Rosalie’s boyfriend. One would assume he knows where his woman is.” His eyes met mine. He was throwing this shit back in my face. I kept my shit on lock down, fighting the urge to punch the fucker in the throat. There were too many guns pulled and once something started, people would die. I knew that for sure.

“Oh, he knows exactly where she is? Last week when I followed the girls on a night out, him and another guy approached them,” Ham explained, venom in his words. I saw Anthony’s eyes narrow. It was a small movement but one that told me he was listening and contemplating the loyalty of his men.

“When they tried to get Chelsea and Rose to go home with them, someone else stepped in,” he looked over to me, “Deacon.”

Ham had informed me of this, but during the time it had just made me angry to know that he was spending time with Chelsea and watching out for her when that was my job. I didn’t realize the significance of it all until now.

I could feel Blizzard beside me. His body was practically radiating and shaking with anger. I wasn’t sure if it was because this stupid fool had just admitted to being Rose’s boyfriend. Or if it was the situation in general. I just prayed that he kept his cool for a little while longer so that we could all make it out of there alive.

Grant’s eyes were flicking around the room. I knew right then he was guilty. He was nervous. I would be too if I had just lied to one of the biggest Mafia Don’s in America.

I folded my arms across my chest and waited for the show. Anthony wasn’t about to let anyone get away with making a fool of him. Especially in front of us, people who he considered the opposition.

“Gio,” Anthony growled.

Giovanni, Anthony’s now eldest son, was the closest to the man. His gun was raised in a second flat and placed against Grant’s temple. The dude shook, stumbling as Gio forced him to walk around the sofa to stand before his father. Gio placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Grant grimaced in pain as he was forced to his knees.

Anthony leaned forward. “Let’s try this again. Grant, where is Rosalie?”

Grant hung his head in defeat, knowing there was no talking his way out of this one. “In Athens with Marco.”

Anthony’s head drew back, he was surprised by this information. He took a moment to compose himself before he shuffled closer again, sitting on the edge of his chair. “Speak now.”

“Sir—”

“No,” Anthony spat, “you speak now or I give you to this club and they can torture the facts out of you for all I care. Speak!”

I wanted to rub my hands together. I would love to get a hold of this slimy little bastard but as much as I hated to admit, Anthony was doing the right thing. This was going to be a lot faster way to get the information that we need.

“Marco is after the girl,” he admitted quietly, long gone the cocky bastard in him.

“Why?” Gio asked, pressing his gun hard into the back of the man’s neck.

“Because her parents put your father away,” I said. All the eyes turned to me, so I continued, “Romano was arrested by Chelsea’s father who was a member of the DEA. Marco went over there and took out his revenge, but Chelsea managed to escape out a window. When the police found her, they knew someone would be coming after her, as the missing piece, so they hid her where no one would go looking for her…in foster care.”

Anthony watched me, hanging on my words. His sons stared, clearly surprised by the news. No one spoke or tried to argue that I was wrong, so I just kept talking, “He tried to frame the Brothers by Blood. I guess he was a little upset that when Romano got put away and he was placed in the driver’s seat that we still managed to pull some of your business deals out from under him.”

I could see Anthony clenching his hands into fists as they sat atop his perfectly pressed dress pants. Gio’s finger twitched on the trigger of the gun and I prayed he wouldn’t fire until I knew exactly where Chelsea was and how to get her home in one piece.