Free Chelsea (The Club Girl Diaries Book 2) by Addison Jane Page B

tucked under his arms and in his hands, obviously restocking. “Round up all the girls and tell them to go to their rooms and stay there until a club member comes to get them.”
    “Yes, Prez,” he called followed by clanging bottles and heavy footsteps.
    “This could turn to shit very quickly,” Blizzard said as we marched toward the front gates of the compound.
    “Honestly, how much more to shit could things get at this point?” I said dryly.
    “Bullet-between-the-eyes shit?”
    “Did you text, Kev?”
    “Yeah, he’s on his way up there.”
    There were some large industrial buildings that were spotted around the edges of the compound. We had sensors in them so we’d know if anyone was in them watching us, but they provided the perfect vantage point for our men if anything like this were to happen.
    I stepped through the small opening of the gate.
    Slider and Wrench stood stoic on the other side, staring down the sharply dressed men who stood next to a large Mercedes. Our third prospect stood just behind them, trying to imitate their stance, but it was quite clear that his hands were shaking.
    “What can I do for you?” I asked sharply as I stepped in front of my men, Blizzard right at my side as always.
    One of the men stepped forward but didn’t answer. His hair was dark and slicked back and his dark shades hid his eyes. He stared at me for a moment before reaching out for the door handle of the car. The man that climbed out was so cliché that if I didn’t know how deadly he was, I would have almost laughed. He had a black turtle neck shirt underneath a dark gray suit that was perfectly creased. A light black shadow shaded his jaw and around his mouth were specks of gray that matched the color of his hair.
    He took a deep toke of the cigar that hung between his fingers before flicking it at my feet as he exhaled. I watched it bounce on the asphalt, the smoke soon reaching my nose and causing me to screw up my face.
    “You are Optimus?” His Italian accent was thick to the point where I wondered if he actually spoke fluent English.
    I broadened my stance slightly and folded my arms across my chest. “I am, and you are?”
    He nodded. “Anthony DePalma.”
    “What can I do for you?”
    He shot me a dark smile. “I am looking for my son, Kenneth DePalma.”
    I scratched at my chin with my hand. “Sorry, don’t know anyone by the name Kenneth.”
    “Isn’t there a guy who works at the hardware store in town called Kenneth?” Blizzard offered with a snap of his fingers.
    Anthony’s smile didn’t falter. “I believe he joined your club, you may know him as Target,” he continued, his eyes refusing to even acknowledge my brother but instead staying glued to me.
    “Can’t help you there. Target hasn’t been around for a while now,” I told him with a shrug.
    His eyes drilled through me, I wasn’t even sure he was blinking, but I didn’t waiver. I wasn’t scared of this asshole.
    He hummed and pulled on the cuffs of his suit jacket. “Well, that is a shame.”
    “If you say so. I’m not really too disappointed myself. He was kind of ugly anyway.”
    “Yeah, he reminded me one of those animals,” Blizzard tapped his head like he was fighting to remember, “What is it called again?”
    I stared straight into Anthony DePalma’s eyes. “A rat.”
    “That’s it!”
    The smile dropped from his face instantly and I was met with a hard glare. This man was used to people cowering at his feet. He practically owned the east coast and seemed like he was looking to expand, and the Brothers by Blood were at the top of his hit list.
    The DePalma family had their fingers in almost every type of organized crime that you could think of. Drugs, guns, prostitution, contract killing—if it was illegal then they were in some way involved. They had plenty of competition from others, the Russians, the Irish and other street gangs, but for some reason they’d chosen to come after my club. If that wasn’t a