Page 62 of Lord Have Mercy Part Four: Big Son

“How modest.”

“What about you, friend? Are you comfortable?”

The stranger hummed a considering note. “More than most, perhaps. And certainly in a position to make others veryuncomfortable.”

Ian had established himself as someone who spoke in riddles and inuendo; had dealt with men who did the same. But he’d spent too much time with the Lean Dogs at this point – professionally and personally – and so this man’s, this stranger’s, veiled threat set his teeth on edge.

But he kept his tone agreeable. Breezy. “I imagine so. My imagination fails me, though, I’m afraid, as I try to conjure your face. Where was it that we met?”

The man’s chuckle was rusty, somehow pleasing, and sent a chill skittering across every inch of Ian’s skin. “We haven’t. Not yet, at least. But you’re a smart man, you already know that.”

Ian did know that, but that didn’t ease the throbbing of his heart. He rested his hip more firmly against the desk, and stared unseeing out the floor-to-ceiling windows, the illuminated street and buildings against the smoke-black backdrop of the night sky. He wondered how Aidan was faring downstairs; if Mr. Parker had taken his hand, finally, or stormed out.

Ian dropped his pleasant act, voice firm, vibrating faintly with nerves and anger when he said, “If you’re calling to threaten me, you’re wasting your breath. Though calling my husband first was certainly a good attempt.”

“If I wanted to threaten you, I’d have my man in Viriginia shoot Kenneth Teague and his friends right this moment. He’s watching them through his scope as you and I speak. They’re smart enough to avoid the windows, but that won’t be a problem for my man’s rifle.”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Ian took a slow breath and let it out carefully, so as not to let the man on the other end of the line hear it. “Ah, Kenneth. He does like to get himself in trouble.”

“Currently, he’s in the company of one of his people, and an FBI agent, both of whom I’m prepared to let live if I have your cooperation.”

“Cooperation withwhat?”

“You don’t know my name, but you know who I am.”

Ian curled his hand around the eagle paperweight, squeezing until his knuckles turned white. “You’re with Abacus.”

“IamAbacus,” the man corrected. “It’s grown beyond my wildest imaginings, but it was born with me. I’m it’s originatior.”

“You know,” Ian mused, “I have a friend who accuses me of being a ‘Bond villain.’ I think he’d reevaluate that definition if he had the chance to speak with you.”

“I want to make you an offer,” the man continued, without acknowledging the jab. “An opportunity, you might say.”

Ian’s stomach turned over again, acid gnawing at the base of his throat. He blinked, and he saw his reflection as it had been at twelve, at fifteen, at eighteen, with kohl ringing his eyes, and a feather boa looped around his throat. “You want me to join Abacus.” He wanted to retch once he’d said the words aloud.

“You’re the one who skewered one of our highest ranking members yourself. It’s only right you should take his place.”

“How does it help you? Bringing me aboard?”

The man sighed, though patiently. Kindly, as a tutor would at an especially slow student. “We have a system in place by which we control law enforcement. We have federal control of all our operational systems, and agents in place internationally. If local police start sticking their noses in, then the federal authorities can dissuade them. It’s the outlaws who’ve proved…troublesome.”

“You never counted on the Lean Dogs,” Ian said, with satisfaction.

“Initially, no. The criminal underworld operates with a blind eye; aside from turf wars, no one cares what others are doing. But the Lean Dogs, as you said, weren’t supposed to be a problem. They won’t be, in the long run. I’ve tried to handle things as subtly as possible.”

“By arresting its members? By kidnapping a child?”

He made a dismissive noise. “Decisions made by my delegates, I assure you. And I, personally, have decided to approach things differently.”

“By getting me to help you traffic girls.”

“Bypartneringwith you,” he said, again with that tone like Ian was especially stupid. “You’re no saint, Shaman, that I know. I want you to come to New York, and meet with me. Hear my proposal, and I can promise you a violence-free parlay environment. Whatever you decide, you’ll be allowed to leave of your own volition, and we’ll pursue either our partnership, or our adversarial relationship, going forward. I do think, though, that you’ll come around to my way of thinking.”

Ian said, “What’s in it for me? Why come? Why take the risk that you’re lying?”

“Because if you don’t agree to come, Kenneth Teague and his two friends are going to die the moment you end this phone call. I will then pick off each and every Lean Dog until the entire club, and all its friends, is decimated.”

Ian wet his dry lips and breathed for a moment, watching the dark beyond the glass. His reflection as this distance was a faint ghost, too-pale, weaving slightly where it was braced on the edge of the desk.

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