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I run my fingertips over her head. Pushing back her hair, I can see where she’s been struck. My heart is beating so hard that my fingers shake as I examine every inch of her. I can’t allow myself for a second to focus on how close I came to losing her. I feel sick as the reality of what occurred is starting to set in. She came so close… so fucking close.
“We need to keep driving,” Bryant says, looking over his shoulder with annoyance in his eyes. “I need a phone. Mine must have fallen out in the car.” He reaches his hand from the back seat impatiently, not the least bit concerned for Lyriope. “Give me your phone.”
“It doesn’t look like it’s going to need stitches,” I tell Lyriope, ignoring Bryant’s demands. I make sure her eyes lock with mine before I add, “We’re going home, okay? We’re going home where you belong.”
Lyriope’s eyes tear up and she simply nods.
“Did you hear me?” Bryant pushes, raising his voice. “Your phone. Now.”
I snap my head to look at him. “You don’t give me orders. Shut your fucking mouth.”
Lyriope places her hand on my arm calmly. “I’m fine.” She wipes at the blood. “Just a cut, some blood, and a bad headache. But I’ll be fine.”
Knowing I need to keep driving, I ignore Bryant’s demands and drive as fast as I can without bringing any more attention to us.
“I need to call for backup,” Bryant demands again. “We can’t be out here on our own right now.”
“Looks like your backup is all dead,” I snap over my shoulder at him. I do however reach for my phone to call Harrison. As the phone rings, I call over my shoulder to Bryant again and say, “You’re lucky to be alive. Don’t make me regret saving you.”
Harrison answers the phone, and all I say is, “Call for an emergency Tea Party at my house. Morelli, Sidorov and have all my men present. Arm up.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Nick
There are somerules to attending a Tea Party. One—and the most crucial one—is you can’t kill anyone at the table. No matter how badly you want to, there is no violence allowed. It’s a gentlemanly agreement made before attending, and I’ve never had someone try to break it.
Could that all change tonight?
Possibly.
The rage in the room is so thick that I’m practically gagging on it.
Bryant and Sidorov both sit at the table with what’s left of their best men towering over them. I too have my men flanking the room. It’s clear none of us truly trust the gentlemanly agreement and the rules of the meeting. There’s been enough bloodshed for one evening, but I’m not convinced it’s over for the night.
Luckily, Lyriope is safely upstairs in bed resting. Her head took a pounding, and though she’ll be fine, I insisted she go to bed. The fact that she wobbled her way upstairs obediently without so much as putting up a fight or demanding to meet with Sidorov and her father told me all I needed to know about her condition. Recovery was a must.
“I know we still have gunpowder and blood on our hands,” I begin. “I know that not only has the dust not settled, but a full sandstorm is in effect.”
“You’re wasting our time with your poetic antics. Let’s get straight to the point,” Bryant says, his eyes narrowed in on Sidorov sitting across from him. “I’m staring at a dead man. Plain and simple.”
“We both have the same idea,” Sidorov counters as he leans forward glaring at his opponent.
“Wonderful,” I say. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
“You killed one of my drivers, and some loyal men that have been with me for years,” Bryant says. “You’re going to pay for that.”
“Your men killed some of my men as well.” Sidorov shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “We had a deal,” Sidorov states. “You’re the one who fucked up what could have been an excellent partnership.”
Bryant huffs. “Partnership? What? With that piece-of-shitt nephew of yours who, by the way, can’t even show up here tonight? He doesn’t have the balls to face me, and you know it. Over my dead body will I have any connection via marriage or any other way to that shithead.”
“Well, that was the point of tonight.Over your dead body.” Sidorov smirks at his own words.
Time for me to step in. The purpose of my Tea Parties is often to calm the waters. To act as a mediator, if need be. I can clearly see there is no reaching common ground tonight, but we do have issues that need to be discussed and dealt with.
“Alright, gentlemen, if you are both done with this little ball-slapping competition, I’d like to get to the matter at hand. Frankly, if the two of you want to leave this Tea Party tonight and kill each other, I could care less. Two less assholes in the world. But I’d like to settle this shit so we can all move on.”
Bryant and Sidorov both look at me, waiting for me to continue. Clearly, they too want this night to be over.
