outside.”
With grunts of agreement and mumbled apologies, they all
start to move toward the door.
“Nah-ah.” I stand up straighter and cross my
arms. Again, they freeze. This time their eyes widen with new
alarm. “I want to know what’s going on.”
They all consider me, a mix of disbelief and fear playing in
their eyes. The fear seems to be winning out. The same one who
spoke before now says, “OK. You made your point. We’ll take it to
Matt.”
My eyes narrow on him. “Matt’s busy,” I growl.
“I’ll handle it.”
Surprise and amusement adds to the mix as their eyes flick
around again in unspoken communication. I’m losing ground quickly.
Time to bring back the fear.
Channeling Matt as best I can, I turn my face calmly to the
side to speak to Jacob and Taylor at the door behind me. “Jacob,” I say,
making my voice deadly quiet, “call one of my Sentries.” Inside, I’m
screaming at myself for being foolish. If they call my bluff— If Jacob
doesn’t play along—
But Jacob plays along perfectly. With a dark look, he
steps toward the door. As he does, Taylor moves to my side, crossing his
arms and fixing the group of men with a look that is deadpan and utterly
intimidating.
“Wait,” several of the men blurt out at once before Jacob
can get out the door.
My bodyguard stops and throws me a questioning look.
I wave him off and arch my eyebrows at the group of men.
They all start spilling at once.
Much as expected, they’re all grappling for the same bit of
pie. But to my surprise, it’s Donegan’s estate that’s up for grabs.
Turns out the old drug lord didn’t make it to this side of the conflict.
And now that I think about it, I don’t recall seeing him after Matt put him in
the VR machine.
I pull up a chair and sit at the table with the group of men
as they fill me in on the problem. Their voices have once again become
polite and respectful. It might have something to do with my two imposing
bodyguards hovering at my back, but at any rate, they’ve bought my bluff.
Now I get to make my first power play.
Luckily, the two groups are still entirely divided, and
though the growling across the table is carefully restrained from physical
action, it is still growling none-the-less. These are men who were united
under Donegan—I even recognize some of them, now that I’m paying attention.
The story goes, they tried to work together after his demise, but without his
discipline, their outfit fell into two parts. They all think they have
right to more than their share, and they’re fixated on getting it. As a
matter of fact, they’re so focused on arguing over property and numbers, they
miss the obvious. I quickly set them straight.
“We divide it down the middle,” Jordan Black is insisting,
emphasizing his point with a clenched fist on the table. “And
sixteen-five and an old warehouse is not half, I don’t care what you say.
Not when you consider the other property, and certainly not the equipment and
goods in hand. It’s not even close.”
“What would you say is half?” I ask calmly.
“Twenty-three bare minimum. Plus the warehouse,
still.”
The men across the table are shaking their heads.
“It doesn’t matter if that’s half,” says Ren Sawyer, his
scraggly beard waving back and forth with the rest of his head. “Some of
us have been on with Donegan for years and years. Our share is
bigger. It just is.”
I nod slowly. “That may be so,” I say, considering
them both, “but I think you might find it makes more sense for both of you not
to divide it after all, once you consider Matt’s share.”
There is a thick silence while blood drains from faces all around
the table. I avoid smiling and wait.
Ren eventually clears his throat and says in a husky voice,
“Matt’s share?”
Now I favor him with an easy smile. “Of course,” I
say, feigning innocence. “Matt always gets a
With grunts of agreement and mumbled apologies, they all
start to move toward the door.
“Nah-ah.” I stand up straighter and cross my
arms. Again, they freeze. This time their eyes widen with new
alarm. “I want to know what’s going on.”
They all consider me, a mix of disbelief and fear playing in
their eyes. The fear seems to be winning out. The same one who
spoke before now says, “OK. You made your point. We’ll take it to
Matt.”
My eyes narrow on him. “Matt’s busy,” I growl.
“I’ll handle it.”
Surprise and amusement adds to the mix as their eyes flick
around again in unspoken communication. I’m losing ground quickly.
Time to bring back the fear.
Channeling Matt as best I can, I turn my face calmly to the
side to speak to Jacob and Taylor at the door behind me. “Jacob,” I say,
making my voice deadly quiet, “call one of my Sentries.” Inside, I’m
screaming at myself for being foolish. If they call my bluff— If Jacob
doesn’t play along—
But Jacob plays along perfectly. With a dark look, he
steps toward the door. As he does, Taylor moves to my side, crossing his
arms and fixing the group of men with a look that is deadpan and utterly
intimidating.
“Wait,” several of the men blurt out at once before Jacob
can get out the door.
My bodyguard stops and throws me a questioning look.
I wave him off and arch my eyebrows at the group of men.
They all start spilling at once.
Much as expected, they’re all grappling for the same bit of
pie. But to my surprise, it’s Donegan’s estate that’s up for grabs.
Turns out the old drug lord didn’t make it to this side of the conflict.
And now that I think about it, I don’t recall seeing him after Matt put him in
the VR machine.
I pull up a chair and sit at the table with the group of men
as they fill me in on the problem. Their voices have once again become
polite and respectful. It might have something to do with my two imposing
bodyguards hovering at my back, but at any rate, they’ve bought my bluff.
Now I get to make my first power play.
Luckily, the two groups are still entirely divided, and
though the growling across the table is carefully restrained from physical
action, it is still growling none-the-less. These are men who were united
under Donegan—I even recognize some of them, now that I’m paying attention.
The story goes, they tried to work together after his demise, but without his
discipline, their outfit fell into two parts. They all think they have
right to more than their share, and they’re fixated on getting it. As a
matter of fact, they’re so focused on arguing over property and numbers, they
miss the obvious. I quickly set them straight.
“We divide it down the middle,” Jordan Black is insisting,
emphasizing his point with a clenched fist on the table. “And
sixteen-five and an old warehouse is not half, I don’t care what you say.
Not when you consider the other property, and certainly not the equipment and
goods in hand. It’s not even close.”
“What would you say is half?” I ask calmly.
“Twenty-three bare minimum. Plus the warehouse,
still.”
The men across the table are shaking their heads.
“It doesn’t matter if that’s half,” says Ren Sawyer, his
scraggly beard waving back and forth with the rest of his head. “Some of
us have been on with Donegan for years and years. Our share is
bigger. It just is.”
I nod slowly. “That may be so,” I say, considering
them both, “but I think you might find it makes more sense for both of you not
to divide it after all, once you consider Matt’s share.”
There is a thick silence while blood drains from faces all around
the table. I avoid smiling and wait.
Ren eventually clears his throat and says in a husky voice,
“Matt’s share?”
Now I favor him with an easy smile. “Of course,” I
say, feigning innocence. “Matt always gets a
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