Page 53 of Savage Fire

“You want us to start a whisper campaign,” Trouble drawled.

“More like a standard shadow war. Get them to fight one another, maybe even reach out to the Italians, let them stir the pot a little, too. Before you know it, the Mendozas will be holding their own intestines while the Bratva are left handicapped, weak, the perfect prey for ravenous Italian appetites.”

“After all that, we’d just be handing the city over to another organized crime family, who aren’t any better,” Hawk pointed out.

“Better one with some class than tundra wolves who’re more than willing to rip the throats out of their own pack. Russians are cold, heartless, and would sell you their mother’s eyeballs for the right price. I can assure you, the Italians will have no beef with a legit, entrepreneurially minded MC.”

“Take out the bigger threat, is what you’re sayin’,” Trouble speculated. “What do you get outta all this? I know you ain’t doin’ it outta the kindness of your heart.”

Fang snorted, making Jorge screw his mouth into a frown.

“I get to land a killing blow against a group of men who should have been sent to hell long ago. It also doesn’t hurt that there’ll be more territory and product for me.”

“So we’ll essentially be helping you become a bigger, stronger Cartel,” Odin remarked, glowering.

Once again, Jorge shrugged. “We would all be getting something out of this. You get fewer murderous assholes in your city, I get more territory, and we both get a tentative alliance between your brotherhood and mine.”

That made Fang jerk back. What the actual fuck?

His brother wanted an alliance with the Savage Raiders? What could be possibly gain from that?

“What would you gain from an alliance with bikers?” Trouble asked what Fang was thinking.

Jorge’s gaze flicked to Fang before shooting back to Trouble.

“A brother of my brother is my loosely related non-blood relation who may or may not need help or offer help in the future.”

An alliance. With the Calderone Cartel. His brother. The one man he’d cut from his life simply because he shared blood with a murdering scumbag.

And you don’t?

It wasn’t just the blood, it was also the empire. Fang didn’t want to be Javier, son of Jose, he wanted to be a man separate from the sins of his past.

But his past came to Las Vegas.

Shit.

Thirty minutes later, Jorge had gone, and the others were getting their assignments.

A shadow war.

Fuck!

Before he could head out and call a few of his connections in the city, AFK stood and stopped him with a chin lift.

“Finally got a lock on the fucker who texted Tessa,” AFK announced, making Fang snap upright. Actually, every man in the room grew immediately silent.

“Who?”

“Since it’s a burner, I couldn’t get a name, but I could trace the model and batch number to a prepaid cellphone sold at a gas station in Heavenly, Wyoming.”

Heavenly, Wyoming? Who did Tessa know in Bumfuck, Wyoming?

“Does she know anyone in Wyoming?” Odin asked, his brows furrowed.

“I have no fucking idea. I’ll ask her, though.”

“She and Skathi are in the common room. Hound, go invite her in, please,” Odin ordered the large, scarred man.

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