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“It’s the only way and you know it,” Harvey says, practically pleading with me to be the killer they bred me to be.
“I slam my fist down on the table. I could lose control. If I lose control, I could lose Quinn.”
“And if you don’t, you will lose her. The Don won’t accept failure,” Harvey offers with a snide smile. “We just told you, word on the street is the price on your head doubled. On the inside there’s several people eying your spot, ready to take you out and steal your prize. I hate to admit it, but ain’t no one going to treat her better than you. Christian.”
I glare at Harvey in stone cold, impenetrable silence. He doesn’t wait for my response. He’s hit a nerve, and he knows it.
“He gave you the wings, boss. Now set your demons free.”
I’ve had enough of Harvey’s lectures. He’s sure one to talk. He lost it all, and for what? For this? To run the club, to sit comfortably at the top, to be untouchable? I Slam my glass on the counter and storm out.
Harvey yells, “You know I’m right. Rank up and take it like a man.”
My blood boils. I’m on the verge of an explosion. Harvey’s right, it’s time to let go. The city will fall. The sooner I finish the task, the sooner—I stop myself from thinking about it.
Chapter ten
“Fine,”Igrowl.“Weare leaving. There’s work to be done. Mark my words, they will fucking fear me. Let’s go Clay.” I snap my fingers at all my men.
“You’re doing the right thing, Christian. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but this is the only way. You want Quinn safe? Secure her safety!” He’s yelling after me, but I’m walking out the door to the street, where more men wait to escort me all over my playground. The city is about to weep for the weak. Retribution is owed; no time better than the present to begin repaying the debt. Viva le châtiment.
Clay flanks me as I storm my way out. I hate that Harvey’s right.
“Hey boss,” Clay says, interrupting my brooding. “Where are you at on your anger scale right now?”
“Get in,” I snarl. He does, but his face twitches nervously.
I’m stoically silent as I climb into the backseat of my Mercedes. This is one of my favorite SUV’s for conducting business. The driver has the patrician window up. I rap my knuckles against it. “To the criminal section, tell the other car to follow us,” I instruct the driver when he rolls the divider down to look at us.
“Boss, your scale. Where are you at on it?” Clay persists.
I roll my eyes with irritation. “One hundred.”
Clay looks at me, terrified. We both know I’m serious. He gulps, continuing to put some feelers out and assess my mental state of mind. I don’t need a God damned assessment. My mindset is mentally terrifying.
“Make a call.”
“To whom and what do you want me to say, boss?” Clay asks.
“The docks are under my control now. Tell Selena’s right hand to implement stage one. If anyone has a problem with it, take them out. If they refuse to pay for our protection, take them out and take them over. My reign is about to begin.”
Clay takes out his phone and places the call. Complying with my request without hesitation. Selena knew this call was coming. We settled the issue weeks ago, hashing out each and every detail. We are going to squeeze out the dirty members of Arkham and rebuild a stronger empire together side by side with the help of those who are loyal. There are nine other smaller mafia’s under Arkham’s control. Each one serves its own purpose, generating their own income, and protecting members of their sectors. The price of protection is steep, but raids and robberies are even more devastating. Even the banks pay for our protection. They have no choice. The crime rate has been steadily rising for years. Over half the force is under my control. The city doesn’t stand a chance when dirty coppers patrol the streets. Each of them willing to turn a blind eye as instructed. It’s not just the soldiers on the street who are corrupt. It runs deep. Almost to the top. The goody-goody, superintendent and the new commissioner are clean as a whistle. They would never suspect our dear old lovable police chief to be dirty, but he’s the dirtiest of them all. The chief spoon feeds the Don sensitive information. It’s been this way for years. Anytime someone suspects Arkham makes sure they disappear. Clay interrupts my thoughts.
“Okay boss, it’s done.”
“Excellent.” I reply, emotionless.
“So you going to tell me why exactly we are going to the criminal sector?” He asks.
“Do you really need to ask, Clay?”
“Let’s just say I am curious,” he replies, staring me square in the eyes.
I don’t like it. Harvey probably suggested he stand up to me. I’ll put him back in his place, just like they want me to do with the rest of Arkham. I shift in my seat, leaning over to rest my elbows on my knees, and turning my head to look at him. My face invading his space, jaw cocked in a dangerous position. I glare at him, unrelenting.
Once he’s squirming in a deep, foreboding tone, I reply slowly and precisely, “We are going to the criminal sector, Clay, because we are going to start a war. They will fall into line. I will rule them all. It’s far pastime they show a little respect. As long as they actively resist our domination, we will increase the price of protection.” I lean back against the cool leather seat, fixing my gaze ahead of me, uncaring of any sort of response in return.
Clay, being who he is, replies unphased, “But boss, won’t we lose men?”
