Page 60 of Mine

He looked back at the server. “Bring a bottle of the Hennessy Ellipse, please,” he ordered before turning to me. “You do, right? Want your own place? Rush told me that was your dream.”

“I just told him that a little while ago.”

“And he told me. Were you telling the truth?”

“Yeah.”

He shrugged, leaning back in the booth between Che and Armando. “You can be an owner or you can be an investor, but you’re in this business now, just like I am. It’s not about just being a runner anymore, Trevan. I mean, I know your name and I’m all the way here in Vegas. You have to think about that.”

I leaned forward. “I’ve only been gone a day.”

He nodded as the waiter returned and poured five glasses of cognac, just a small portion in each snifter, putting one down in front of each of us. He then lifted a box from the tray he had brought the glasses and cognac on and put it down in the center of the table, along with a lighter and a cigar cutter.

“Would either of you like one? They’re Maduro, which I enjoy.”

I shook my head, and Landry politely declined even as he shifted closer to me, his hand on my back.

We both watched José lift the lid of the box and offer cigars to Che and Armando, who both declined, before he took one out and began the long process of smelling it, clipping the end, and getting ready to smoke it.

“So, Eramo’s dead,” José told me as he took a sip of his cognac and told Landry to try it.

“Oh, it’s very good,” he complimented José after he took a sip.

“Good.” He smiled at him. “I’m glad you like it.”

“How do you know?” I broke in because he was talking so civilly, and I was ready to lose my mind. “About Adrian, I mean. How do you know?”

“I work for the Masada family,” he told me, “and now so do you. Eramo’s dead because the Masada family moved in on him, and he decided to fight instead of either work for them or sell. And I understood; he thought it was a battle he could win, but there’s no winning against our resources, which stretch across continents. So now Eramo’s dead and Zahir, that’s my boss—yours too, now—he doesn’t like how Kady handled things with Eramo. He thinks maybe if Kady had taken our offer to Eramo without the bloodshed, without killing his runners, then maybe Eramo would have been more open to negotiation.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. All I do know is that killing fucks with business and brings cops and attention where none is needed.”

“I agree.” I nodded.

“See, so you understand.”

“What do I understand?”

“Kady hurt your people; Zahir didn’t like that, so now Kady’s gone too.”

Jesus.

“The Masada family doesn’t get involved in personal bullshit. Kady fucked up your runners, killed men that Zahir thought would be working for Rigel, his cousin. He counted on those men, and now they’re dead. That’s a waste. So Rigel, because he’s smart, he goes to see Gabriel Pike. Gabriel, unlike Eramo, he’s smart too. He sees into the future, not just right now.”

“Yes, he does. He can look at someone and see what they could be.”

He snapped his fingers, his smile big as he pointed at me. “Yes. Eisa, that’s my boss, he said that Rigel liked Gabriel right off, said he could tell a man who could see the big picture. He said Pike is that man. So now your old boss is the new big boss in Detroit.”

One day. I had only been gone one day. I could only imagine if I’d been gone two.

“So Eisa, he asked Gabriel for names, and three guesses whose came up.” He grinned evilly, waggling his eyebrows at me.

“Okay.”

“You get Gabriel’s job when you get home. You’re number four man. I’m number four man here. When Rush said he ran into Trevan, who was a runner from Detroit—I mean, how many fuckin’ guys could that be?”

“Sure.”

“I work for Eisa, who works for Donovan, who reports to Zahir. You work for Gabriel, who works for Rigel, who reports to Zahir. Are you following this?”

“Yeah.”