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“Why not?”
Sighing, I twisted him back around so he could see how serious I was. “If you only listen to one thing I say, listen to this. No more gangs, Jerron. You get a second chance. Don’t fuck it up.”
He looked like he wanted to say something again, but I waved him off. “You need to be out of the city by dusk. Better hurry.”
When he walked away, he did so with a stronger stride than he had when I first saw him. I hoped that strength took him far in life, just like I hoped he took my words to heart. Time would tell, and there was nothing I could do either way.
I’d given him another shot at a real life. It was more than most people in our world got.
“I’ve already got one of the new guys trailing. He’ll make sure the kid and his sister make it to Oregon.” Cameron fiddled on his phone a little more and huffed a laugh. “Geneva said Ash is home and fuming at being under house arrest. Said if this is how I treat my wife, she’s already considering a divorce.”
Snorting, I used the burner phone to send a single text to B, which I hoped stood for Beckstrom.
Cosera Lighting. Noon. Two days.
Not waiting for a reply, I cracked the phone in half and tossed it into the trash. No way was I taking it home with me when I knew the number would be disconnected before we could do anything with it.
“Do you think he’ll show?” Cameron asked as Dominic pulled up in the SUV.
“No, but there’s always the backup plan.” In fact, I was counting on Cash being too cocky to show. But he’d pop his head up somewhere, and when he did, we’d be ready.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Mari
When I was a child, I often heard my father telling Antoni the rules he lived by.
Rules for making deals, taking people out, and working with the cops. Rules about protection runs and hospitality with business associates. There were rules about everything, but the ones that stuck out to me were the rules about meeting other leaders.
One, meet on neutral ground. Don’t meet on their turf.
Two, never meet alone. That’s how you end up dead.
Three, bring your own, unopened food. Hospitality is for suckers.
Four, always remain armed. Unarmed equals dead.
Five, be vigilant. Traps are laid in the most unexpected places. A pretty face will slit your throat just fine.
Six, never let them see you sweat. You’re always in control, even if you’re not.
Seven, trust your instincts. Paranoia’s only bad when it gets you killed.
I had a final rule: Play the game. Don’t let it play you. Which meant everything I did, I did to win.
As Greyson and I stepped out of the elevator and into the penthouse seafood restaurant Sean suggested, those rules rolled through my head. We’d come as prepared as we could. The sharpened hair stick in my updo was nearly unnoticeable, as was the small gun tucked into my clutch. Even knowing that Greyson was armed to the teeth, I wasn’t stupid enough to leave my own weapons at home.
Sean was already seated at the table with a glass of whiskey in his hand, while his largest son, Kieran, stood with arms crossed behind him.
No one spoke as Grey pulled out my chair, pushing me in while leaving me with enough room to grab my weapons if needed. I loved him a little more for it. After opening the bottle of wine I’d brought and pouring me a glass, he took his place at my back, mirroring Kieran.
“Marcosa, you look well.” Sean said it mildly, but the way he looked over the bodice of my dress was anything but polite or respectful. Grey cleared his throat, and O’Bannon’s eyes lifted. Asshole. “And Greyson. Has our little queen given you the heads-up yet?”
Grey said nothing, and I knew without looking that his face was giving nothing away either. He was a vault when he wanted to be, and Sean O’Bannon was going to figure that out on his own.
Sure enough, he grunted and turned back to me. “Shall we get to business, then?”
“I’m surprised you’ve made this a family affair,” I said with a pointed glance at his son. Sean rarely had other people in the room during negotiations because he hated to lose. Kieran’s presence showed just how confident he was that he’d win.
