Page 74 of The Merciless King

Politics. Trade. Commerce.

Especially if it’s criminal.

“So,” I lift my shoulder casually. “I need to inspect the stock before I go back to him with a guarantee it’s up to his quality expectations.”

I wait.

Frank and Salvatore watch me as Dante joins us. He sits beside the don as Salvatore lights a cigarette.

“You will want a reassurance I’m trustworthy.” I nod. “Understandably. Your reputation is known to me, but I am an unknown. I work under the radar.”

“I don’t trust you,” Dante says, relaxing his arm along the back of the chair.

He looks wound up this afternoon. Dangerous.

Unstable.

“I am willing to share with you a couple of names. People I have worked with in the US.” I tell them as if this is a huge step for me. “Men you will know.”

Frank’s right brow lifts an inch.

I pull out a card and slide it over the table. Everyone stares at it for about ten fucking hours, and I almost roll my eyes.

But, you know, I want to stay alive.

Frank nods to Salvatore, and he reaches for it. Reads it. Then lifts his hand and suddenly one of the soldiers walks over, takes it, and disappears.

Alrighty then.

“Those men were affiliates of the Mancini family,” Salvatore says. “Convenient.”

I laugh. “Not anymore.”

Dante's lips quirk, and it almost looks like he’s going to laugh.

Interesting.

“I meant—”

“I know what you meant. I’m not responsible for their deaths. These are the people I’ve worked with. I’m not going to bullshit you. I need this deal to take place. Check them out and if you don’t want to proceed, we won’t.” I wave out my hand, showing frustration. “But I’m running out of time. Either I need to board a plane and sort this shit show out or inspect your stock and make a deal.”

Frank lowers his brows, unhappy with my demands, but I don’t expect him to be otherwise.

“Can you guarantee five billion?” Dante asks, rubbing his chin.

“I will only know that when I see the cargo. If it’s what my buyers are looking for, then yes.” I nod.

The gangster glances at his father and a silent conversation takes place. Then it takes thirty more minutes of awkward small talk and silence for the soldier to return and a decision to be made.

The guy whispers in Salvatore’s ear, then the second nods at the don and the table is quiet once more.

Come on already.

My body is buzzing with anxiety. If the informants Agent Scott gave us haven’t had time to be contacted, then I’m a dead man.

We all thought this was going to take longer, so there is a good chance they haven’t.

Fuck.

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