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"I guess the first," he finally answered. "Tank, I'd like you to meet my boy, Dante Romano. Dante, say hi to Tank."
I leaned over to the phone. "Hi, Tank."
"Good to meet you too. You were a slippery little thing to find, but I'm glad we did. I can already tell Preacher is lighter now that you're around," Tank said. "Now that we've gotten the niceties out of the way, tell me what you need."
"We need to get word to Ricardo that Dante is alive and well. He's going to wonder where his ward is since I made him disappear. Dante is adamant that Ricardo will want proof of life, so I figured a voicemail or a video could do the trick. Can you coordinate the transfer of something like that?"
Tank took a moment to reply. There were voices muffled in the background before he came back and said, "Sure thing. Memphis swears he can do it, so let's trust him. You got a plan for what happens after that? I can't imagine you can live in my safe house for forever."
"Not the plan, Tank. I'm planning to discuss that with my boy next. We just needed to get the Ricardo plan underway to prevent him from taking a bullet for losing Dante. I'll have a file to you soon. And I'll be in touch if there is anything else I need in the meantime."
"I'm sure you will," Tank said with a laugh before the line disconnected.
Preacher turned to face me. "Alright, let's get the recording going. Then we'll make our plans."
* * *
By the timewe got the video done with just enough detail for Ricardo to believe me but not so much as to give my location or who I was with away, it was damn near lunchtime. My stomach growled, demanding I feed it something.
Daddy got to work cooking as I thought about what we needed to do next. My father still had a lot of people on his side. I'd converted nearly half, but even with them and a few allies around the states, it wouldn't be enough to take him out. Unless...
"Can I use your phone?" I blurted when Daddy put his plate in front of me.
He raised his brow at me questioningly. "I'll need to know why before I give an answer."
I rolled my eyes at his tone. That earned me a scowl, then the next thing I knew, I was pulled from my seat and getting my butt swatted. "Daddy!" I cried out.
"Naughty boys get spanked. You knew this from past experience. Nothing about how I treat you will be different on that note." He rubbed his hand along my bottom where he'd hit. It was warm to the touch, though the pain had long gone.
My cock stirred, desperate to see what other things would come my way if I pushed Daddy's buttons. I wasn't a terribly bratty boy before I left. My go-to nature was to be sweet to him and to do as he asked without questioning him. But maybe we could play around with our dynamic here and there to see if time had changed things.
"Get that look off your face, baby. We can play later. Tell me who you need to call."
I sat back in my chair, careful to keep my attitude in check. "His name is Pharrell Lyon. He's a friend of sorts. Really, he's more an ally who would love to see my father six feet under. He and I met while I was in Vegas working on expanding territory. He's technically connected to my father, but he hates him nearly as much as we do."
"What makes you want to contact him in particular?" he asked curiously.
"Because he's married to the daughter of a Russian Bratva officer. Her uncle is the head of their organization, and he is very protective of her. My father said some not so nice things about her once to which Pharrell became furious over. Theirs is a marriage of convenience, though he treats her with respect and love as if she is family. It's complicated, but I know he'd come to our aid if needed. And he'd likely have the support of the Russians as well, which would increase our numbers."
Preacher scrubbed a hand over his face. "You're talking about starting a war, baby. This won't just be your father who gets caught in the crosshairs. Everyone who stands at his side and refuses to listen to us will have to go. No exceptions."
"I understand. This has been a long time coming. You taking me just moved up the timeline," I admitted.
He pulled out his phone, then slid it across to me. "Speakerphone only. I want to make sure he's sincere."
With a nod of understanding, I grabbed the phone and dialed the number I'd memorized long ago. When you kept a constant array of burner phones, you tended to recall numbers better than people who had the same phone since high school. I couldn't be too careful while plotting my father's downfall. It would have been stupid to do anything on a phone he could track.
Speaking of, I just remembered my phone was left on the table at the house with Ricardo. Hopefully, he took it with him wherever he went to lay low. If my father got the wild hair to track it, then he'd need to see we weren't somewhere we shouldn't be.
"Who the fuck is this?" Pharrell hissed as he answered the phone.
"Is that any way to speak with an old friend?" I teased as I kept my eyes locked with Preacher's.
There was a pause, and then, "Dante? Long time, no see. How is life with father dear treating you?"
"Well, you see that's why I called. There's something we need to discuss. Do you remember the night Ricardo got food poisoning and had to leave early?"
"Yes. It was a rather rousing conversation. Should we move forward with the resolution at hand?"
