Page 38 of Kyle

Daytona drags a hand down his face. “I can see where you think they’re running up against us, moving in on our turf, but I’d let this go.”

“They killed our attorney,” Crash states.

“Get another one,” Daytona replies, then looks at Trick. “Tell ‘em, VP.”

Trick leans against the edge of the desk. “No one gets to Franco Santorini. Everything goes through his man, Vito. I had the pleasure of dealing with them, like our prez told you. In my life, I’ve dealt with a lot of bad dudes, but these guys are a whole other level. We’ve got a tense truce between us, and it didn’t come easy. They let us alone and we let them alone. Prez is right. You do not want to mess with these guys.”

“They’re running heroin through both our states,” Cole snaps. “How is that staying out of our business?”

Daytona rubs his palms together and drops his head, then he leans back in his chair. “We haven’t been in the heroin business since Taz went on a killing spree down in Temecula years ago, and you know it.” He meets Cole’s eyes. “Let this one go, brother. Or we’ll all live to regret it.”

Cole sucks in a long breath, his jaw clamping.

Every man in the room can tell how much this is costing him to let slide.

“Somebody’s got to pay for Silver’s death,” he murmurs.

Daytona shakes his head. “I disagree. He was working a case that had nothing to do with club business. He fucked with the wrong people. That’s on him. Let it go.”

Crash looks at Cole. “Maybe he’s right, brother. Two hundred grand is a lot of money, but it’s not worth this kind of trouble.”

“Two hundred grand?” Daytona frowns.

“His widow paid us to take out whoever killed her husband,” Crash fills in.

“Jesus.” Daytona shifts his eyes to Cole. “You in the murder-for-hire business all of a sudden?”

“It’s more of a favor for a friend of the club.” Cole stares off, his knee bouncing a mile a minute.

“Ain’t no favor worth dying for, brother,” Daytona advises.

Cole gets to his feet. “Let me think about it.”

Daytona nods, not pressing for more.

And just like that, we all file out to the bar, still not sure where it stands.

Our chapter sidles up to the bar, grouped together and murmuring low.

“So, this goes right up the food chain to the mob,” Crash hisses.

Cole nods. “And they’re moving drugs right through our territory.”

“We’re fucked,” Red Dog whispers.

“We’ve gone up against a lot of badasses, Cole. But the fucking mafia?” Green asks.

“I think the only way we do this is if we can make a statement under the radar, without them knowing it’s us,” Cole muses.

“This is the mafia, Prez.The mafia,” Green reiterates. “Cement shoes, floating with the fishes, the Godfather.”

“I know who the mafia is, Green,” Cole snaps.

Red Dog points a finger at our prez. “You are out of your mind, brother.”

“I can’t let this lie, Dog.”

“For what? For Harry Silver’s widow? For two hundred grand? It’s not worth it. You’ll put a death warrant on every single one of our backs. Daytona’s crew, too.” Red Dog drags a hand down his jaw.

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