Fuck.
I owed him a call the night we picked up Zira and just didn’t get around to it. Part of me was putting it off in the hope that he would have faith in the Suit and trust in me to get things done, but it seems he just can’t help himself. Drawing my hands down my face to wake myself up, I tap my cheeks and then nod at Frank.
I’m ready.
“Bradley!” Damian’s face floods the screen as he leans far too close to the camera.
“Damian.”
“Want to explain to me what the hell is going on?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You were supposed to call me. You said you would when you got your hands on those fuckers that stole from me, so tell me why I’m hearing through the grapevine that not only did you close a bunch of roadsthreedays ago, but you’re also sweet with the mayor and have him spinning reports about constructions, so tell me, did you fail? Did you fuck up?” His eyes dart back and forth as he looks me over. “Hard to believe anyone could get the better of you, but giants always fall, right?”
My eyes narrow. “Damian, let’s get one thing clear. I’m helping you as a favor to you in respect for the time we spent together in my youth, but don’t for one second think that you have that kind of power over me, understand?” Measuring the power in my words, I keep my voice as calm and as level as always. “Our history doesn’t negate the fact that I am the King, voted in place by more families than you could ever imagine, so if you want me to turn thisfavorinto something much bigger because you can’tkeep a handle on your attitude, then by all means, keep insulting me.”
Damian’s eyes narrow and he barely masks the fury in his eyes. Years ago when I was removed from his family to become the King of the Suit, he had a hard time letting me go. But he did save my life, so after years of avoiding him, helping him with this problem felt like the right thing to do, but not at the expense of anyone getting the impression that they can have the Suit at their beck and call.
Rather than apologize, Damian grunts. “So, do you have them?”
“First things first. I believe Valentina returned half of the diamonds to you?”
“More like a third, but yeah,” Damian mutters. “We got them.”
“Excellent.”
“So, do you have them?”
“I have one, yes.”
“Give them to me.”
“No.”
“What? The fuck do you mean, no?”
“I have someone involved and someone else is dead. There are still two more in the wind, and I need the one I have to lead me to them. Without her, the chances of finding the rest of your diamonds reduces by half with every hour.”
“Her?” Damian’s eyes flash. “I know my rights. I know the rules. That fucking bitch stole from me and it’s my right to handle thisany way I see fit, so you hand her over and I’ll uh…” He smirks. “I’ll make her talk.”
“You’re right,” I reply calmly. “But you forget that whatever honor law you want to recite to me about what your family can do in the event they are wronged, it’s alwayssecondto that person’s worth to the Suit, and right now, I say she’s essential. So no, you can’t have her.”
Anger flits through Damian’s eyes and his brow twitches as he restrains all the shit he likely wants to say but knows he can’t, not if he wants to retain my help. “So, what about my diamonds?”
“Like I said, I’m working on it.”
“Well, work faster,” he hisses and leans back against the camera. “I’m in a lot of shit here, Bradley. Do you know what those diamonds were to pay for? Guns. A shit ton of guns and ammo that I have possession of, and if I don’t pay them off in time, then it makes me look like a thief and I’m already stretched thin, you hear me? I can’t afford another war, Bradley. Everyone’s hanging by a thread and you know how many small birds are under me. If I fall, the entire McCarthy line falls, and you know how disastrous that will be. That ripples not just for us but the Italians and the Russians too. This is bigger than me, Bradley. Remember that. It’s certainly bigger than one fucking girl.”
“Trust me, Damian. I’ve been made aware of your deal with the Cartel and the consequences. I will get the diamonds back to you. Trust me.”
“You—” His anger swells and he vanishes from the screen, leaving his dark leather chair in view. Something clatters off-screen, and then his voice returns. “You'd better! I’m a desperate man, Bradley. Don’t push me.”
The call ends and silence falls in the kitchen.
“Will he be a problem?” Frank asks.
“Maybe. He stands to lose a lot, but he’s not wrong. The McCarthy line is strong and they’re tangled with a lot of families. If they go down, then we’ll be dealing with the ripples for years, and that kind of weakness in one of the biggest lines? It’s begging for trouble.”
