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Remy Donahue, on the other hand, is another matter.
He’s the wild card I can’t quite pin down, and not even a lengthy look at him as he walked in half an hour ago has given me anything to work with. He has the same sharp jaw and almond-shaped eyes as the rest of the Donahues, but that’s where the similarities end. Where they are all poised and refined, Remy is bulky and short with a bald head and a sneer etched onto his face.
His icy blue eyes haven’t stopped regarding the men in attendance since he walked in. And I’m beginning to wonder if we’re going to have a problem on our hands.
Was I too hasty in agreeing to a sit-down? Is Remy going to blow the whole truce to smithereens, taking down as many men as he can from all sides?
So far, he doesn’t seem willing to talk to anyone else, in spite of the fact that I know he’s allied himself with Mathew Natori and Floyd Philips.
The two men at least have the decency to pretend around me, but I don’t miss the worried glances they exchange, and I don’t miss how Remy moves his chair further away from them, taking up an entire side of the table. Three of Remy’s men, all sporting identical buzz cuts and cruel sneers, take their seats on either side of him.
Remy links his fingers together and casts another glance around the room. When his eyes land on me, I give him a bored look. His eyes tighten, and his expression turns thunderous.
A part of me wonders if he’s going to launch himself across the table and put my head through the wall.
I’m almost eager for him to, just to give me an excuse to crush him once and for all.
The Donahues are a lying, manipulative, and weaselly little bunch who have been allowed to exist for too long. With Remy out of the picture, I’m hoping I won’t have to deal with them ever again. However, even I know that’s wishful thinking.
Somewhere out there, there might be another Donahue or Lacey lying in wait. One with far more brains and bigger pockets than Remy.
“You need to stop looking like you want to put a knife in his stomach,” Daniel murmurs near my ear. “We’re here to negotiate a new truce and not spill more blood.”
I curl my hands into fists at my side. “He took down an important part of the docks just to spite me. And he allied himself with the Natoris and Philipses for the same exact reason. He’s nothing but a fucking pest.”
“A pest who has the support and ear of both of your enemies,” Daniel reminds me in an equally soft voice. “Don’t forget that if you target him, you might risk bringing negotiations to a close.”
I twist to face Daniel and frown. “Whose side are you on?”
“Yours,” Daniel replies without looking at me. “You asked me to be here, Carter, and I’m here. If you didn’t want my advice, you shouldn’t have asked me to come.”
I dig my nails into my palms. “What if I just asked you to come because I needed your men?”
Daniel turns so he’s facing me directly, his expression still calm and unaffected. “You would’ve told me. You aren’t known for mincing your words, Carter. Regardless of our differences, you and I are family.”
And he’s the only one powerful and influential enough to back me up. Whether or not I trust his intentions doesn’t matter. It can’t. Not in this nest of vipers who would happily descend upon me if given half the chance.
Without Daniel, I know my chances aren’t as good.
Reluctantly, I uncurl my hands and exhale. “Fine. I’ll do the talking, though. Don’t say a word. If they sense we’re not on the same page, none of us are going to make it out of here alive.”
Daniel gives me a curt nod. “It’s not my first truce negotiation, Carter.”
I give him another look and say nothing.
Ernesto and Tristan are standing on either side of the door, their faces giving nothing away. In the back of the room, Paul and Lorenzo are stationed. Once the last of the men trickle in, the double doors are left open, and a row of muscled men block the exit.
Daniel and I walk to the head of the table.
He sits down first, and I scan the room, my mind racing to come up with worst-case scenarios. Although we’re all fairly evenly matched, I know that Daniel has more men waiting in the wings. As per our agreement, we’re each allowed ten men to accommodate the size of the building on the outskirts of the city.
Choosing a location in a quieter neighborhood isn’t what’s rubbing me the wrong way. It’s the fact that the entire room feels like a ticking time bomb. One wrong word and it’s all going to go up in flames, and I have no idea who’s going to be holding the match.
Fucking hell.
I’m still not sure how Daniel convinced me to agree to this goddamn sit-down in the first place.
Unfortunately, arriving to find a fire engulfing a section of the docks, with a few Donahue men crawling everywhere I looked, hadn’t left me in the right frame of mind. Everywhere I’d looked, I hadn’t been able to see anything other than chaos and destruction, and it was Tristan who’d sprung into action.
