Page 56 of Lord Have Mercy Part Four: Big Son

Ghost answered with a fast, “What’s up?” and put it on speaker.

“Hey there.” Mike’s voice was its usual gruff, phlegmy croak, but his tone was off. Downright chipper. “Thanks for taking my call. I’d really like to get this hammered out.”

“What?” Ghost said. “Mike, what the hell?”

“Yeah,” Mike said, “I think this is a good opportunity to make sure my family’s taken care of after I’m gone.”

Ghost started ask another question, and Fox silenced him with a slash of his hand through the air. “Mike, if you’re somewhere you can’t talk freely, say ‘yes.’”

“Yes,” Mike said right away. “Uh-huh.”

“Is it someone from the file you gave us?” Fox asked.

“Right. Yeah, Hames thinks this would be a beneficial arrangement for all parties involved.”

The Beemer slowed, and Fox’s gaze flicked up to meet Ghost’s, and for the moment, all their family woes and worries were shoved aside. That passenger silhouette ahead of them belonged to Mike.

“What’s the plan now?” Ghost asked.

Fox adjusted his grip on the wheel and faced forward. “Mike. When we make the next left, and get on the straightaway, brace yourself.”

“Yeah. Okay, will do.”

The line disconnected.

Ghost said, “I take it Hames decided it’d be safer to bring Mike into the fold than stay at odds with him.”

“Or he’s driving him out to an empty field to kill him,” Fox countered.

“Follow them a little farther, then. And let’s see.”

~*~

To Aidan’s shock, Walsh turned over the financing trip to him, leaving him in charge of talking to the banks, the subdivision developer, and then the Parkers. Aidan was riding a high the likes of which he’d never known before: the high of getting things right. Once the feds were gone, with promises to call back to HQ and finally inquire about Remy and Boyle’s whereabouts, church resumed, and a vote was cast. Unanimously in favor of Aidan’s proposal. Hound threw up his hands and said, “After everything, might as fucking well,” but Aidan chose to take that as a ringing endorsement.

He took Tango with him…and they got as far as the parking lot before Aidan was forced to admit, “Shit, I don’t know fuck about banking.”

Tango had snorted.

With Walsh out of the question – you couldn’t fall back on the guy who’d done the delegating – they turned to the only other financial genius they knew.

“It’s just as well,” Ian had said when they were seated in his office with complimentary iced coffees neither of them touched. “A purchase that large, you’d have needed my help anyway. This just cuts out the middle man with Walsh.” He’d winked at them like they were co-conspirators, and he and Tango tradedwhat have we donelooks.

For show. Ian was, as ever, invaluable.

With Ian at the helm, the developers, though bewildered by the sudden interest from one of Knoxville’s wealthiest residents, jumped on the chance to sell. Ian signed all the papers, Aidan at his elbow, and they got the ball rolling on the transfer of the property to Dartmoor Inc., with Ian still a partial owner for all the bookkeeping ins and outs that Aidan wasn’t going to pretend to understand. When he had the time, Walsh could get it sorted. For now, the Dogs owned the one-hundred-fifteen acres that bordered the Parkers to the east.

Now, he, Tango, and Ian seated in the middle between them, had a corner booth at Bell Bar, two empty chairs waiting opposite them for their potential new business associates.

Tango checked the time on his phone. “Eight-thirty-eight,” he said.

Aidan realized he was fiddling with his coaster, and set it aside. “Lewis said he’d try to get his old man here, but I wouldn’t blame the guy if he blew us off.”

“He won’t,” Ian said, confidently. “The proudest man in the world knows better than to let his family starve if he can do something about it – even if it means he has to submit to another man’s authority.”

Aidan shot him a sideways look, and found him smirking, slicked-back hair and diamond cufflinks gleaming under the brass sconces mounted on the wall behind them. “Why do you have to make that kinda shit sound dirty?”

Ian’s lips curved in amusement, gaze slanting over. “It’s a gift, really.”

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