Page 14 of Monstrosity (Raiders of Valhalla MC: New Blood #5)

CHAPTER SIX

Rio

Dawn breaks through the clubhouse windows like a threat, painting everything in shades of blood and gold.

I've been awake for an hour already, running through every possible scenario for today's meeting with Liam Mackenzie.

The Irish boss isn't known for his reasonable nature, and we're about to tell him exactly what happened, and why his warehouse went up in flames.

Dasha stirs beside me, immediately alert even though it’s early as hell. "You're thinking too loud," she murmurs, pressing a kiss to my shoulder.

"Sorry, baby. Didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't." She props herself up on an elbow, studying my face. "Nervous about the meeting?"

"Cautious," I correct. "Liam Mackenzie's got a temper that makes mine look reasonable. And he just lost three million in inventory."

"But it wasn't your fault."

"No, but proving that to a pissed-off Irishman is going to be interesting." I pull her closer, needing her warmth. "We leave in an hour."

"Who's going?"

"Me, Runes, and Ivar. Small group, non-threatening. Any more and it looks like we're planning something."

"Aren't you?"

I grin despite the tension. "Different kind of planning."

A small voice from the bunk beds interrupts us. "Daddy?"

It's Florencia, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. "Hey, mija . What are you doing awake?"

"I heard talking." She climbs down carefully and pads over to our bed. "Are you going to work?"

I lift her up to sit between us. "Yeah, baby. Got a meeting with some important people."

"The kind of meeting where you need your gun?" She's too perceptive for an eight year old.

"All Daddy's meetings involve guns," Cali announces from her bunk, apparently also awake. "That's why he's cool."

"Come here, monkey." I help her climb up too, and suddenly our bed is full of my entire world. "Yes, I'll have my gun. But it's just for protection, not for using."

"Like a seatbelt," Dasha offers. "You wear it just in case, but hope you don't need it."

"Exactly." I kiss the top of her head, grateful for her quick thinking.

"Will you be home for dinner?" Florencia asks.

"Wouldn't miss it."

We spend the next twenty minutes in bed together, the girls chattering about their plans for the day while Dasha and I exchange looks over their heads.

These moments—normal, peaceful, family moments—are what I'm fighting for.

Eventually, I have to get ready.

The girls put up a fight when I extract myself from the pile, but Dasha distracts them with promises of pancakes for breakfast.

I shower quickly, dress in my usual—jeans, black shirt, cut.

The weight of my gun at my hip is familiar, comforting even.

When I emerge from the bathroom, Dasha's gotten the girls dressed and ready for the day.

She approaches me while they're distracted with their shoes.

"Be careful," she says quietly, straightening my cut. "I know you have to do this, but?—"

"I'll be careful," I promise, pulling her close. "This is just talking. Negotiating. I'm good at that."

"You're good at a lot of things." She stretches up to kiss me. "Just come back in one piece."

"Daddy, we're hungry!" Cali announces, bouncing impatiently by the door.

"Better go feed the monsters," I say, stealing one more kiss before we head out.

The main room is already busy, even though it’s early as shit.

Runes is at one of the tables with Ivar, both nursing coffee and reviewing notes. They look up as we approach.

"Family man," Ivar greets me with a grin. "Ready to dance with the Irish?"

"Ready as I'll ever be." I accept the coffee Meghan hands me with a grateful nod. "Where are we meeting them?"

"Neutral ground," Runes says. "That warehouse complex off Highway 90. Doran suggested it—his family uses it for legitimate shipping, so there won't be any surprises."

"How many are they bringing?"

"Liam doesn't travel light," Ivar says. "Expect at least six soldiers plus Doran. We'll be outnumbered."

"We're always outnumbered," I point out. "Hasn't stopped us yet."

"Daddy, can I have syrup?" Cali asks from where she's claimed a spot at the next table.

"Ask Dasha, baby."

"She said to ask you."

I look at Dasha, who shrugs innocently. "You're the one who deals with her on a sugar high."

"Just a little," I concede, which earns me a bright smile from my youngest.

"Whipped already," Tor observes, joining our table. "How long you been official? Two days?"

"Fuck off," I say without heat. "How's Meghan handling lockdown?"

"Better than expected. She's turned it into some kind of slumber party with the other women." He lowers his voice. "You ready for this? Liam's not exactly stable on his best day."

"We've got evidence, we've got truth, and we've got a proposal that makes him money," Runes says. "If he's smart, he'll listen."

"And if he's not?"

"Then we remind him that his nephew is married to my daughter," Runes says darkly. "Family means something, even to the Irish."

I spend the next half hour eating breakfast with my girls, listening to their chatter while mentally preparing for the meeting.

Dasha keeps shooting me concerned looks, but she maintains a cheerful front for the kids.

"Time to roll," Runes announces eventually.

I stand, dropping kisses on both girls' heads. "Be good for Dasha. I'll see you at dinner."

"Love you, Daddy," they chorus.

"Love you too, monsters."

Dasha walks me to the door. "Rio?—"

"I know." I cup her face in my hands. "I'll be careful. I promise."

"You better be. We have plans for tonight that require you intact."

That surprises a laugh out of me. "Is that so?"

"Mm-hmm. So don't go getting shot or stabbed or whatever it is you boys do."

"I'll do my best."

One more kiss and then I'm following Runes and Ivar out to the bikes.

The morning air is thick with humidity, promising another scorching Florida day.

We take three bikes—separate targets if things go sideways, but able to maneuver better than cages.

The ride to the warehouse takes thirty minutes.

I use the time to center myself, pushing thoughts of family aside and pulling on the mask I wear for meetings like this.

Calm, controlled, dangerous when needed.

The warehouse complex is mostly deserted this early, which is probably why Doran and Liam suggested it.

We spot the Irish convoy immediately—three black SUVs arranged in a defensive formation, men in suits standing guard.

"Subtle," Ivar mutters as we park our bikes.

"Liam doesn't do anything subtle," Runes reminds us. "Remember, let me do most of the talking. Rio, you present the evidence when I signal. Ivar, try not to threaten anyone."

"When have I ever threatened anyone for no damn reason?" Ivar asks innocently.

"Tuesday," Runes and I say in unison.

The warehouse door opens, and Doran steps out.

Revna's husband looks comfortable in his expensive suit, every inch the Irish and Russian prince.

But I catch the tension in his shoulders, the way his hand hovers near his hip.

He's nervous too.

"Gentlemen," he greets us. "Thanks for coming. Uncle Liam's inside, and he's... agitated."

"About his warehouse or about this meeting?" Runes asks.

"Both. He doesn't like being summoned."

"We didn't summon him," Ivar points out. "We requested a meeting to clear up a misunderstanding."

"You say tomato," Doran shrugs. "Just... be careful. He's got a short fuse today."

We follow him inside, where the temperature drops ten degrees.

The warehouse has been set up as a meeting space—table in the center, chairs arranged formally.

And at the head of the table sits Liam Mackenzie.

The Irish boss is exactly what you'd expect.

But his presence fills the room like smoke, dangerous and choking.

His red hair is going silver at the temples, and his green eyes are like chips of ice as he watches us approach.

"Raiders," he says, his Irish accent thick with disdain. "You've got some fucking balls, my warehouse burnt down, and you ask for a meeting without fixing the bloody problem."

"We’re here to come to an agreement, to resolve this giant fuckin’ issue," Runes says calmly, taking the seat across from him. Ivar and I flank him, staying standing. "That's what we're here to discuss."

"Discuss?" Liam leans forward, and I can see the rage simmering just beneath his controlled exterior. "Three million dollars of my property goes up in smoke, and you want to talk about it?"

I speak for the first time, keeping my voice level. "Yeah, since we’re all cool and everything."

Liam's eyes snap to me. "Rio Rojas. The prospect who likes to paint walls with blood. Aye, I know who you are, boy."

"Enough." Runes holds up a hand. "Liam, we called this meeting because someone is trying to start a war between us. Someone who benefits if we're busy killing each other."

"And who might that be?"

"Bembe Reyes. Culebra cartel."

Liam's expression doesn't change, but I catch the slight tightening around his eyes.

"Go on," he says finally.

Runes nods to me, and I pull out the tablet we prepared. "Two days ago, I had a conversation with one of Bembe's surveillance guys. He was very informative."

I slide the tablet across to Liam, showing him the photos from Carlos's laptop. "These are screenshots from his files. Detailed surveillance on our women, our operations, and—" I swipe to the next image, "—your warehouses."

Liam studies the images, his face giving nothing away.

Doran leans in to look as well, though I suspect he's already seen them.

Revna would have made sure her husband was informed.

I swipe to the shipping manifests. "Bembe's bringing in a massive shipment in two days. Enough heroin and fentanyl to flood the entire country. He needed a distraction, something to keep us busy."

Liam is quiet for a long moment, and the tension in the room ratchets up another notch.

His men shift slightly, hands moving closer to weapons. Our side tenses in response.

"This is bloody nuts," Liam says finally, "what are you proposing?"

This is the crucial moment.