Page 94 of Scarlet Angel

I eye my mobile sitting on my desk. A handgun is in the drawer below it.

“As your oldest mate, I’m the selected messenger,” he says.

“And?”

“You’ve broken the rules.”

“You realize the syndicate or Obsidian or whatever the fuck you want to call it doesn’t own me. You’ve got nothing on me. Is this your father’s doing?”

I can’t see his face, but I swear the bastard stiffens.

“A notice went out. You’re no longer the selected negotiator for the alliance.”

“Under whose order? There hasn’t been a meeting.”His fucking father.

“I’m here as a friend.”

“Fucktwat. You just said you’re here as a messenger. Is your father trying to pull his seniority prophet bullshit? He wants to lead?”

“If you drop this half-cocked attack on the Lupi Grigi, we’ll look the other way.”

“Really?”

“You have my word. I’ll make it happen.”

“My mates won’t go against me, no matter what dear old pappy tries to pull. How old is he anyway? Shouldn’t he retire? Pass those reins?” His father’s age resistance to passing the reigns used to be a sensitive topic, but there’s no visible reaction.

“The syndicate is in agreement. There have been discussions.”Fuck his father. This is utter bullshit.

“Why does your father care about Italian organized crime?”

He sighs like I’m a bore. “It’s the rules. Without order, there is chaos.”

I sip my bourbon, contemplating his presence. Something’s changed. I cut the Lupi Grigi off at the knees two years ago and didn’t hear squat. And now he’s looking to step in and fill Leo’s role. Coordinate sales between countries. Is his father driving this, or is this all about business expansion?

“Are you going to stop?”

Two hundred million gone. If I came clean, the syndicate would drop this. But my companies keep other accounts secure. I don’t want to cop to being hacked. And I won’t be bullied.

The glare I give Dorian says everything.

“Thought you might say that.”

“I said nothing.”

“Oh, you spoke.” He points two fingers at my eyes. Dorian picks up the glass, swirls it, and knocks it back.

“You should sip that.” It’s not my best scotch, but he just chugged a couple of grand.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and stands.

“You’re going to be targeted.”

“By whom?”

“You’ve broken the rules. An example must be set.”

“Are you here as executioner?”

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