Page 52 of Last Hand

“I can have my men do something tonight, maybe hit the laundromats.” Santos’s voice shifts and for once he sounds his age, sounds tired like this drama is exhausting him like it is me.

I shake my head, though he can’t see it. “That’s what he wants. A bloodbath he can blame on territorial disputes. The cops will swarm every operation in the city.”

“What’s your alternative?” Santos challenges. “Let him burn us to the ground?”

“No.” I pull the convoy into an abandoned factory lot, cutting the headlights. “We control the narrative.”

“What do you want me to do?” The question is loaded. Santos rarely asks for direction.

“Let my patrons clear out,” I say finally. “All of them. I’ll tip off my regulars, especially the ones with connections or badges. I’ll make sure they’re gone by 3 AM and every exit and entry are opened for those on the ground floor to get out; I will clear upstairs and the basement.”

“And then?”

“And then burn Verdigris to the ground.”

The silence that follows is thick enough to cut with a knife.

“You’re suggesting I destroy one your biggest assets.” His voice is dangerously flat.

“I’m suggesting you burn an insured building because you hit too small and he won’t believe it, especially when he believes I just stole your shipment worth millions.” I keep my tone reasonable. “Make it look like the war Mikhail wants everyone to believe is happening. Only on our terms, with no casualties.”

“The insurance investigation?—”

“Will find evidence of Russian gang violence,” I interrupt. “My men can plant it tonight. The right shell casings, some distinctive cigarette butts from those Ukrainian imports Mikhail’s crew smokes. Enough to muddy the waters.”

Another long pause. I can almost see Santos at his desk, fingers steepled, eyes closed as he runs the calculations.

“My people inside,” he finally says. “The dealers, the bar staff?—”

“Give them two weeks’ pay and tell them it’s renovations and I will organize work at the casino; they’ll still have jobs.”

A heavy sigh. “And the product stored there?”

“I’ll move what I can in the next hour. Sacrifice the rest.”

Santos grunts. Not quite agreement, though close enough. “You’re asking for a lot of trust, Leone.”

“I’m asking you to be as predictable as Mikhail thinks you are.” I check my watch.

“And what will you be doing while I’m burning down the place?”

I glance at the trunk. “Getting answers from my brother. Then finding Fallon.”

“The Russian won’t let her go easily,” Santos warns. “Not if she’s leverage.”

“I know.” My voice hardens. “That’s why I’m not asking; I won’t risk her life. He needs to think he has started a war; that’s what he wants.”

The line goes quiet. I wait, listening to Santos breathe as he weighs his options. Finally, he speaks.

“Clear Verdigris. My men will handle the fire. Make it look convincing.” His tone turns sharp. “After this, Leone, I want Mikhail’s head on a pike.”

“You’ll have it,” I promise. “Just make sure the fire’s visible from downtown. I want everyone to see it.”

“It will be… Good luck with your brother.”

“I don’t need luck,” I reply, ending the call. Pocketing my phone, Milo speaks.

“What’s happening now?”

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