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I shake my head. "You need to calm the fuck down, Preach. It's goin' to be fine. Relax, man. You're goin' to give yourself a fuckin' stroke or somethin'."
He flips me off, his arm tightening around Tyson. "You're an ass, you know that, brother?"
I grin. "Never claimed I wasn't. Now, you good?"
He nods. "I'm good. But as I said, you need us, just call."
"I get your concern. This could go fucking wrong in so many different ways. But I have a feeling the meeting itself will be uneventful. It's the aftermath that’s going to be the problem."
His eyes narrow. "You think those cunts will make a play at some later stage?"
I nod. "Jacobson Senior is lookin' to get into politics. He's not goin' to want a fuckin' shootout between major players, where he's at the forefront. That's a bad image, Preach. No, this fucker is goin' to be nice as fuckin' pie and try to worm his way into our good graces. It's what the snake does after that will determine what goes down next."
He nods. "I get that. It makes sense. Fuck, if this isn't the most fucked-up situation. How's Esme takin' it?"
"She's at work. I'm not disruptin' her for somethin' that could lead to nothin'. She's dealt with the Jacobson’s brand of bullshit for years. I'm not subjectin' her to any more."
Fuck that. My woman has been hurt enough, and I know if anything goes down after this meet, she's going to blame herself, and that shit’s whacked. We're not to blame for others' actions. But I can guarantee if those assholes come for us, I'm going to enjoy killing each and every single one of them. No one targets the club and gets to walk away.
I enjoy unleashing what I have inside. The thirst for vengeance is something I crave. When someone does me or my club wrong, they pay the price.
CHAPTER17
REAPER
The young server weaves through the restaurant with ease as she leads us toward one of the bigger tables in this place. There's enough room for twelve people to sit at that table and yet there are only six of us here. I see the asshole seated, his gaze on us. The old man is exactly that. Old as fuck. He's got short gray hair, and his face is weathered and wrinkled. He's wearing a navy-blue suit and sits smugly, almost as though he's the biggest player in this room. Little does he know, he's not even fucking close.
His son is sitting beside him, watching his father like a lost puppy. They're wearing matching suits, and I have to question what the fuck Esme saw in this dipshit. He's a joke of a man who's hanging onto his father, trying to make a name for himself.
"Ah, Ms. Gallagher," Harry Jacobson Senior greets with an outstretched hand as we reach his table.
The restaurant is busy. There's a fucking lot of assholes here. Politicians, cops, judges. I'm on guard, my gaze moving through them all. Makenna was right, the place is fucking upscale. The who's who of the corporate world are here. It goes to show that it's not just criminal organizations that have these fuckers in their pockets. The business world does too.
"Bianchi," Makenna snaps as she takes a seat, ignoring the old man's hand. "Then again, you knew that," she hisses. "I'm surprised this is how you want to start the meeting, Harry." The disdain in Makenna's voice is hard to miss. This asshole has pissed her off with just three words. Stupid man.
"You wanted the meeting, Ms. Bianchi, not I," the asshole says as he retakes his seat.
Dante sits beside his wife on her right and Ace takes the seat on her left. I'm the last to take my seat, glaring at Harry Junior. The asshole's eyes narrow. Ah, I think he realizes who I am now. I smirk at him and watch as heat rises through his cheeks and he puffs out his chest. Fucking sap.
"That is correct. I did want this meeting, Harry. I've heard a lot of rumblings and I wanted to see if those rumors were true." She smiles at him, and the man seems to soften under it.
Makenna is gorgeous. She's young, still in her twenties, and she has a look of innocence about her. The sweet smile she has makes her look like a vulnerable woman. You'd be crazy to think that though. She is without a doubt one of the most powerful players in America, if not the world.
"What rumors would those be?" he asks, his brows raising as he leans forward.
Before Makenna can answer, the server returns to give us menus. I'm in no mood to eat, and I certainly don't want to share a meal with these fucks.
"Have whatever you'd like. It's on me," the asshole says with a grin. "Now, as I was saying, what rumors have you heard, Mrs. Bianchi?"
Makenna places her menu down, not once looking at it. "That you're running for office," she says sweetly. "I'll have a cup of tea, please," she says. "None of the sweet stuff. A proper cup of tea with boiling water from a kettle and not a microwave."
The server nods as the Jacobson’s put in an order for themselves. Once the server leaves, Harry Senior turns his attention back to Makenna. "My dear, whomever your sources are, they're very well informed."
Christ. How fucking stupid is he? You never give information to your opponent. Surely he should know that. If he's playing us, then what's his game? What's he trying to achieve from it?
"You plan to run for office?" Makenna asks as she sits back in her chair and crosses her arms over her chest. "That's very…" she pauses as if trying to find the right word. "Obvious, wouldn't you say? I mean, what's running for Mayor going to do for you?"
His brows knit together as he stares at her. "As opposed to what, may I ask?"
