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The corner of Gunn’s mouth pulls up. “Yes, sir.”
* * *
“You are to stay here until I return,” I inform my wife.
“What if I get hungry?” Carina arches a brow and shoots a disdainful stare my way.
“Eat the burritos I made you.” I point at the basket I brought with me in anticipation of this debate.
Why she wants to be a part of this meeting is beyond me, especially when all I’ve heard is how much she hates my world.
She clucks her tongue and disengages herself from the wall she’s been clinging to while I dress to meet with my possible new allies. Coming to stand in front of me, she slaps my hands away and takes the blue tie she selected earlier because it matches my eyes, and proceeds to form a correct knot.
“Something might come up that only I can figure out.”
I grin at her. “I’m sure we dumb men have it covered.”
“That’s not what I meant. As much as it pained me, I was exposed to a lot of infor—”
“Whatever experience you think you have,” I say, “it’s not enough to deal with the big boys, Carina. Besides, you don’t have the proper”—purposefully scanning her from head to toe, I give her the most salacious smile I can produce and cup her breast—“attire.”
That’s a mistake. The way her gaze glimmers tells me so. Before I can reiterate the importance of her compliance, the doorbell rings, signaling the arrival of my first guest.
I peer at myself in the mirror above the dresser. My brother would be proud. He always tried to stuff me into a suit. Said it was more appropriate for men of our rank. I reminded him I wasn’t like him.
Now here I am for the second time in just a few months, dressed in a black tailored suit, my hair smoothly tied back. Only, I still look nothing like Tony. If anything, the man reflecting back at me resembles my father so closely, I want to break the glass.
The two of you couldn’t have been more similar if you’d been twins.That’s what my uncle said. Although I know he wasn’t talking about our appearance, there’s no denying I was his son.
Rolling my shoulders and neck, I attempt to rid myself of the idea that I’m more like Pops than I’d care to admit. “I’ll be up as soon as it’s over.”
* * *
Noah Esposito. Rowan Kane. Arran Maxton. Gavin Alexander. Marco Tadesco. Jorge Ruiz. The men poised to take over some of the largest criminal organizations on the East Coast sit around the table in the dining room that’s serving as our conference room.
They all watch me with narrowed, distrustful gazes. As I expected they would. Trust doesn’t come easy to men like us. Which is why I allowed them to come into my home armed to the teeth. That, and because of the five soldiers Hansen selected to station inside this room alone. Not to mention Gunn and my uncle, who are sitting across the table from me, their weapons also at the ready.
One can never be too careful.
Rowan Kane, a large Viking motherfucker from Boston with dark blond hair, who seems as comfortable in a suit as I do and was James McKenzie’s right-hand man, is the first to speak. “How do we know this isn’t all some made-up bullshit? I never heard of a Ferryman.”
“Exacly,” Jorge Ruiz, Ramos’s cousin, pipes in with his heavy accent. “How do I know jou aren’t the guan behin oll thees. I never heard of a Ferymen.”
“I’m not behind anything.” I glance between the two. “My own brother was killed by this asshole. His bitch attacked Ray’s place and nearly took out Gunn.”
Gunn’s head snaps up. “She didn’t come out smelling like roses, dick.”
Arran Maxton sits forward, his black gaze narrowing on me thoughtfully. “Which, coincidentally, made you king of New York.”
Arran is the current owner of the Maxton Pierce Auction House in Philadelphia. Their front—rare antiques made available to the highest bidder. Their actual business—selling stolen artifacts, among other things, on the black market. Also to the highest bidder.
I smile at him. “My brother didn’t have to die for me to control this city. It was mine long before that, and everyone in this fucking room knows it.”
Uncle Ray’s head spins to me so fast, I’m surprised it doesn’t give him whiplash. The honest statement stuns me too. But it’s true. If I had wanted it, I could have taken New York years ago.
Letting out a breath, I study the faces of the men who chose to make the journey to my home. They wouldn’t have done so if they didn’t at least believe to some degree that their lives are in danger and that an alliance could be necessary.
“I heard about the Ferryman.” Up until now, Noah Esposito, Joaquin Gianni’s cousin, has been quietly watching the back and forth. The entire room turns their attention to him. “Tony came to me after he attempted to reach Joaquin. He believed I’d be more reasonable than him or Renzo.”
