Guns & Allies

ANSEL

“An.” Alex strides into the room, raking his hand through his hair before he takes a seat next to me. I pop two aspirin into my mouth and chase them down with a gulp of orange juice.

I can’t help but notice the shadowed look in his eyes, and I raise an eyebrow in question as I set my glass down.

“You look like you’re up to no good. Did you drop Rain and Riley off already?”

“Yeah, they’re at the mall picking up Riley’s uniforms. They told me to head home since they weren’t ready to leave yet.”

I nod, placing the glass on my nightstand. “You mentioned yesterday that you had something to tell me.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here. Riley told me something about Rainey yesterday, but we were having such a good time last night that I didn’t want to spoil it.”

I narrow my eyes, lifting my chin in interest. If it’s about Rainey, I’m all ears.

“What did she say?”

Alex grimaces, “It’s messed up, Ansel. I think Rainey’s mom—”

“Guys, you won’t believe who’s in our living room.” Aiden appears in the doorway, and we both swivel our heads in unison, giving him blank looks.

“Ron freaking Moretto.”

Alex and I exchange a glance before we rise from our seats and follow Aiden downstairs.

Ron Moretto is lounging on my living room couch, legs crossed. His trademark smug smirk is plastered on his face as he taps his finger against his knee.

My dad is standing in front of him, arms crossed, while my mom watches from the kitchen entrance, her face full of disapproval.

“Why is he here?” I ask Alaric, who’s sitting on one of the smaller couches, his lips pressed into a thin line as he glares at the man in the suit.

“Ansel King,” Ron says, sitting up straighter. “I was just asking about you.”

“Why are you in my house?” I frown. This man has no idea how much I want his head on a platter.

He smirks. “Oh, you were upstairs, so you might not have heard. I’m here to look into something.”

“You better talk fast and get the hell out of my house. I’m not known for my patience,” my dad growls, his eyes darkening on the mafia lord.

A long history of betrayal and backstabbing has left my dad with a deep resentment toward Ron.

Years ago, when I was just seven, my dad lost his four brothers, Ashton, Andie, Allen, and Archer.

They had formed a small family gang, the King Brothers, and used the symbol of a snake coiled around the number five as their emblem.

Ron had been envious of my father ever since he married my mom, Melissa.

He had a deep “love” for her—still does—and when my dad stepped up and confessed his love for her, Ron wasn’t pleased.

He was also jealous of the bond between my dad and his brothers, which only added fuel to his fire of envy.

So he plotted against the King Brothers~.~

They ran the biggest drug business in Crossview at the time, and Ron had partnered with them, helping them find clients and oversee drug distribution.

But despite the generous financial rewards he received from them, his greed was insatiable.

There was a gang called the Groundhogs, who controlled the neighboring city, Hillpine Close.

The King Brothers and the Groundhogs were rivals and had agreed not to distribute drugs in each other’s territories.

Ron hired some anonymous men to raid the Groundhogs’ camp, kill some of their men, and steal their drugs.

He managed to get hold of my dad’s necklace, which had the name Austin King engraved on it, and ordered one of the men to leave it at the scene.

When Bull—the leader of the Groundhogs—found the necklace, he assumed it belonged to my dad and concluded that the King brothers were responsible for the raid.

It was my seventh birthday, and we were having a small party on our porch. The night was calm, and the moon was high.

The neighborhood was unusually quiet, but the warmth among us was all we needed to feel content.

An hour into the celebration, a nondescript Honda pulled up to our gate.

The first M16 that appeared through the window sent everyone diving for cover, but not quickly enough. Gunshots rang out.

When the attackers had finished their mission, their car sped away. My dad had been shot in the shoulder, but that was nothing compared to what had happened to his brothers.

They were all dead. Lifeless and cold. I remember crying my eyes out while Alaric stared at their bodies in shock, his Spider-Man mask stained with the red evidence of their injuries.

My dad had no idea that Ron was the one who had set him up. It was only when he went to Ron’s house to deliver the news that he overheard Ron talking on his phone in the garden.

My dad listened from behind the fence, and what he heard was enough to confirm his suspicions.

“Yeah. No, they’re not all dead. Austin’s still alive. Okay, good job anyway. The money will be forwarded tomorrow.”

My dad couldn’t believe that the man he had financially supported and who had sworn lifelong friendship would betray him like this.

They had been friends since my dad was nineteen, so Ron’s betrayal and deception were hard for him to accept.

My dad didn’t have solid evidence, so when he confronted Ron, he denied it.

He claimed that the person on the phone had nothing to do with the shooting and was just someone he had asked to run an errand.

My dad didn’t believe him, but Ron had already managed to bribe several politicians and influential men, which made it difficult for my dad to retaliate.

Everyone knew about the grudge my father held—still holds—against Ron.

And the district sheriff at the time stated that if anything happened to Ron Moretto, my father would be the first suspect.

My dad couldn’t help but plot against Ron, even going as far as buying a shiny new gun.

But my mom, always the peacekeeper, managed to convince my dad to hold off on any violent actions. She reminded him that karma is real, and that life has a way of flipping the script.

She told him to be patient, that he would see Ron Moretto meet a painful end. What goes around, comes around.

But I’m not so sure about karma doing the job. Sometimes, you have to be karma. It’s nice to be nice, but does being nice always pay off?

The nice ones always hesitate, petting the wolf until it turns around and bites. A nice man’s kindness can often be his downfall.

Strike before you’re struck.

My dad hasn’t been the same since his brothers died. He quit dealing drugs and settled into being a family man.

But the legacy continues, as my brothers and I have decided to keep the family tradition alive.

Alaric now runs Crossview, as he’s the top drug lord in the city. But he doesn’t stop other drug gangs from distributing in the area.

The business is mostly handled by Alaric and his buddies, Max and Drake, since my dad isn’t keen on his younger sons getting too involved in the business.

But we still help out when needed, and assist with finding clients every now and then.

Looking at my dad now, I can see the deep pain in his blue eyes, as if he’s reliving the torturous past. His fist clenches and unclenches as his neck veins bulge.

My dad could easily snap Ron’s neck, but with Ron, acting on impulse could be a death sentence. Playing it smart is the better choice.

He has a lot of connections, and if he were to be killed, he has people who would be ready to avenge his death.

Ron stretches his legs and adjusts his jacket, his eyes as dark as the tuxedo he’s wearing.

“Which one of you boys has been messing with my truck?”

My dad narrows his eyes, his face hard and angry. “You’ve got some nerve coming into my house with your crap.”

“One of your boys has been stealing from my truck. And if I find out who it is, you’ll all wish you never messed with me.”

“No one’s stealing from your truck, you idiot,” Arden mutters, scrolling on his phone with complete indifference.

Arden is the type to stay calm in these situations, but that doesn’t stop him from getting his hands dirty when necessary. His goofy side tends to disappear when he gets angry.

“I don’t mess around when it comes to my money, and you all should know that,” Ron says, twisting the skull ring on his finger.

His actions and gestures are predictable, so it’s easy to tell that he’s currently thinking of something wicked. Just like all of us.

“Why do you assume one of us is stealing from you?” Alaric raises an eyebrow. “It could just be one of those ~loyal~ men you do business with.

“Keep your enemies close but your friends closer. You’re over forty and you don’t know that?”

Ron glares at Alaric, who fearlessly meets his gaze. The two are locked in an intense staredown, but I interrupt.

“No one here is messing with your business. I’d appreciate it if you could get the hell out of our house.

“Coming into our territory is a foolish move. It would be seven against one, and your little driver outside wouldn’t stand a chance against us. You’re not invincible, Ron Moretto.

“And don’t think that just because you have the state on your side that we can’t slit your throat right here in our living room.

“I think you know that patience isn’t something we have a lot of. So while we’re still asking nicely, leave, or you might just speed up your own death.”

Ron smirks, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he straightens his back. “See, this is exactly why you’re my favorite. You’re so assertive and confident.

“Not everyone can see that dark look deep in your eyes, but I can. I see the monsters hiding in there. I like you, Ansel King. I always keep an eye on you.”

“Please keep your eyes off my son,” my mom interjects, and Ron smiles, shifting his attention to her.

“Lissa,” he sighs. “I missed your voice. You’re still so beautiful, aging like fine wine.”

“Get the hell out of here,” my dad warns. “And watch how you talk to my wife, because I swear to God, I will behead you.

“Then I’ll have my sons dump your bloody body at the bottom of the sea so the entire marine life can feast on your disgusting flesh.”

Ron laughs, standing up. “If you wanted to kill me, you would have done it a long time ago.

“It’s sad that you still think I’m the one who killed your brothers, Austin. I hope for your sanity’s sake that you find the killer one day.”

My dad’s eyebrows are furrowed, his lips pressed tightly together. I can tell he’s itching to end Ron right here and now, and we’re all thinking the same thing.

Ron smiles smugly and pulls out a cigar from his jacket, tucking it between his fingers.

“I hope you all were being honest, because if I find out that one of you is messing with my money, things will get ugly. I’ll be back in a month. I have something to collect.”

~Something to collect. This jerk—~

“What the hell do you mean by ‘you have something to collect’?”

I narrow my eyes. “I suggest you stay away from Rainey. Or the next time you come back, it’ll be your death.”

Ron chuckles, lighting the cigar between his lips. He takes a deep puff, a thick ring of smoke leaving his mouth.

“You know, Ansel, I can see why you’re drawn to her. She’s got a fire in her. She’s a fighter.”

I grit my teeth. “Listen, if you so much as touch her, I swear I’ll kill you.”

Ron grins. “I’ll keep that in mind, Ansel King.”

He turns on his heel and leaves, his heavy cologne lingering in the air.

“I can’t stand that guy!” Aiden spits out. “Dad, can I please just take him out?”

“If anyone’s going to kill him, it’ll be me.” Dad runs a hand through his hair. Mom looks at us, worry etched on her face. “What does he want with Rainey?”

Alaric growls. “He wants her to join his side. That’s going to be his downfall. If he thinks we’re going to let him take her, he’s got another thing coming. I’ll tear him apart.”

I rake a hand through my hair, my cheeks puffing out as I exhale. The anger is still there, simmering beneath the surface, growing stronger by the second. “Alex, you said you had something to tell me.”

“Yeah. We should talk in our room,” he replies. “This is sensitive information.”

ANSEL

“Hold on…” Ansel closes his eyes, holding up a hand in disbelief. “Say that again.”

Alex moves to the edge of the bed, one foot on the floor, the other on the mattress.

“Okay. Riley woke up and Rainey wasn’t there. She thought Rainey was downstairs, so she went to check. But as she got closer, she heard Rainey telling Jeff to back off.”

Ansel’s eyes narrow as he stares at the floor, taking in every word Alex says.

He’s already furious after Ron Moretto’s visit, and now he feels like he’s about to explode.

“She got to the kitchen and saw Jeff with his hands on Rainey’s waist, pressing himself against her.”

Ansel closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. His hand, resting on his thigh, slowly curls into a fist. He grinds his teeth, his blood boiling.

“Go on.”

“Riley said Rainey looked terrified, like she was reliving some kind of nightmare.

“She thinks he’s been abusing her. The night we took them home from Tate’s party, she argued with her mom after telling Jeff to keep his hands to himself.

“I don’t think this is the first time he’s tried something. We’ve seen how possessive and controlling he can be and—”

Ansel stands up abruptly, cutting Alex off as he moves across the room. Alex watches him, confused. “What are you doing, An?”

He crouches down, pulling a shoebox from under his bed. Inside is money he’s saved from the café and a clean Beretta 70.

Mr. Austin made sure each of his boys had a gun, determined not to let history repeat itself. He believes in the importance of self-defense.

Alex knows his brother is the most dangerous of them all.

Ansel is cold and ruthless. He’d kill someone politely, maybe even wish them luck in the afterlife before ending their life.

He knew Ansel wouldn’t take this news lightly. He can see that his brother loves Rainey, maybe more than he even realizes.

Ansel places the box on his bed, takes out the gun, and starts loading bullets.

Alex stands up, watching his brother. Ansel’s eyes are dark and empty as he focuses on his gun.

His whole demeanor is dark and deadly, and Alex can feel the ominous energy surrounding him.

The usual calm and serene look in his eyes is gone, replaced by a distant gaze, as if he’s no longer part of this world but has descended into the depths of hell.

“Why are you loading your gun, Ansel?”

Alex knows that when Ansel is really angry, he doesn’t talk. He’s always been a man of few words, but it’s even worse when he’s mad.

“Are you going to kill him?”

Ansel doesn’t respond, and Alex feels a chill at the sight of his brother’s demonic expression.

Alex knows things are about to get messy. He quickly goes to his dresser, pulls out the bottom drawer, and grabs his gun from under a pile of T-shirts.

He tucks it into the back of his jeans, his eyes reflecting the same dark intent as his brother’s.

“I’m coming with you. Whatever you’re planning, I’m in.”

Ansel doesn’t respond. He seems to have forgotten Alex is even there as he tucks his gun into his waistband.

He’d already warned Jeff, and he doesn’t feel the need to say anything else. He told him that if he ever found out he’d touched her, he’d come back to kill him.

And everyone who knows Ansel King knows he always keeps his promises.

Jeff might have thought he was bluffing, but if only he knew how serious Ansel was when he made that threat…

No one can touch Rainey Slate and get away with it.

~No one.~