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His jaw ticked. “I can’t go in there.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t leave on the best terms with some people in Detroit. This gang is one of them. They see me and I’m dead before I get a word out.”
I laughed coldly. “I guess I’m not the only person you fucked over.”
“I’ll be at a bar. Just text me when you’re done,” he said tightly.
“Richard didn’t want me going into the meeting alone,” I snapped. “That’s why I didn’t come by myself.”
“If I go in there with you, the meeting won’t happen. You’ll be fine. They’ve been working with your family for years.”
I shook my head. “West should have come with us. I can’t trust you to have my back.”
“I tried to stay back,” he shot back. “Richard wasn’t hearing it.”
“I’m not fucking driving you to some bar.”
“Fine. Call me when you’re done.” He scanned the sidewalk before opening his door. “And if you leave me stranded again, you better hope I don’t make it back to Braidwood.”
He slammed the door before I could respond, and I watched as he pulled his hoodie over his head and quickly walked down the street before he turned a corner. I sighed, not liking that West wasn’t here. Reaching into the glove box, I grabbed my gun and the paperwork.
Unlike River, I didn’t carry my gun everywhere. But I sure as fuck was going to have it when I was alone, meeting with the leader of the Ghosts. Even if we were on good terms with them. Stepping out of my car, I stared at the apartment building. It was a sketchy area of Detroit, and the outside of the building was old and falling apart. But the cameras near the doors, and the man who looked homeless but was actually keeping a lookout, showed I was in the right place.
The guy sized me up as I got closer. Waving the paperwork at him, I straightened my spine. “Elias Perry. Here to meet with Mr. Cole.”
The man nodded, opening the door for me. I stepped through and was met with a narrow hall that was just as dirty and old as the outside of the building. A couple of the fluorescent lights flickered, making it hard to see where the hall ended.
“Second to last door on your left,” the guy told me before closing the door.
I strode forward, my feet padding on the worn-out carpet. My neck tingled with nerves as I reached the door. I wasn’t enjoying the fact that River had left me to deal with this alone. Although, I really shouldn’t have expected anything different. I knocked lightly and waited.
The door swung open, revealing Darius Cole. One of the most powerful men in Detroit. And the most bloodthirsty. But great to have business ties with. Richard had been working with him since I was a kid.
“Elias,” he greeted me, shaking my hand with a firm grip. “Good to see you.”
He was African American and about the same age as my father. He had a full black beard, and his head was shaved. The wrinkle lines near his eyes were the only things that showed his age. One look at this man and everyone knew he was not someone to mess with. Danger seeped out of his pores. He was wearing blue slacks and a white dress shirt without a tie. The only tattoo visible was a cross that covered the back of his hand.
I wondered what River had done to get on his bad side.
“My father sends his apologies,” I said as I stepped through the doorway. “But he wants me learning the business.”
“Of course,” Cole responded. “He told me a few months ago that you’ll be more active. Drink?”
I nodded, and he moved to the back of the room, where there was a row of liquor bottles on a shelf. The apartment was all one large area. It was obvious this wasn’t where he lived; it was used for business meetings. A large desk sat in front of the shelf of liquor. Two leather chairs faced the desk. A table with a few chairs around it sat in the corner. A few TVs covered the walls, and they were all off at the moment.
He handed me a glass of whiskey before pouring himself one. “As long as our business continues like it has been, then I won’t have any problem working with you instead of your father.”
His threat was clear, and I bit my tongue, keeping my features neutral. Working with people like Cole was how we kept our fortune and power. I didn’t like it. The founding families in Braidwood kept their business legal—until our grandfathers took over. Then they got in so deep, there was no going back.
“I have no plans to change anything,” I told him as he motioned for me to sit in one of the chairs in front of his desk.
He sat down across from me, staying quiet as he studied me. I’d met him a couple of times, but I was a new person to him, and it was obvious he wasn’t as comfortable with me as he was with my father. Finally, he leaned back in his chair and smiled.
“How is our new coffee shop looking?” he asked.
“Great. Should be opening in about a month.”
