Page 96 of Royal Bargain
He glances at me. “And we need to control the streets.”
Burns leans back in his chair, the flickering light catching the edge of his whiskey glass as he swirls it slowly.
“There’s an infrastructure bill coming up for a vote next month,” he says, calm and casual, like he’s discussing the weather. “If it passes—and it will—it’s going to release hundreds of millions in contracts. Roads, bridges, buildings. A whole goddamn facelift for this city.”
The others around the table sit a little straighter. This is what they came for.
“And when that money flows,” Burns continues, “I want it going to the right people. People we can trust.”
He looks straight at me. “People like your family.”
The room is quiet. Not shocked, just waiting to see how I’ll respond.
“You’ve got your hands in everything already,” he says. “Construction. Private security. Real estate. You’re practically a one-stop shop for revitalization. I want the Brannagans to be the go-to. Quietly, of course. Nothing that’ll tie back to me.”
I shift in my seat, the weight of his words sinking in.
“You’re asking us to skim off a government contract,” I say slowly.
Burns snorts. “I’m asking you to win the game everyone’s already playing. The Russians are already circling this like vultures. You think they won’t sweep in and snatch those contracts out from under you if you hesitate?”
He sets his glass down, eyes sharp. “I need you to talk to your brothers. Set the groundwork. Make sure when the bill passes, your family’s already locked and loaded.”
I don’t answer right away. My brain’s split—half on the weight of what he’s saying, the other half still with Ana, still back at the safehouse, probably curled up with Lily, trusting me to keep them safe while I wade through the mud.
Burns lowers his voice, just for me. “Look, Liam. This isn’t just about money. It’s power. Territory. Legacy. You want to protect that little girl of yours? You need a future worth protecting.”
My throat tightens.
He’s not wrong. And that’s what makes me hate it more.
“I’ll talk to them,” I say at last.
Burns nods, satisfied. “Good man. The vote’s coming fast. Don’t let the Russians get a head start.”
He claps his hands once, sharp and final. “Alright. Let’s talk strategy.”
A city planner pulls out a map of the metro area, sprawling it across the conference table. A few advisors lean in, pointing out key districts—neighborhoods riddled with potholes and crumbling sidewalks, bridges that should’ve been condemned a decade ago. Someone else passes around folders stampedConfidential, filled with early drafts of the infrastructure bill and breakdowns of proposed budget allocations.
“We’ll need three council votes we don’t have yet,” one of the advisors says. “Greer, Monroe, and Vasquez are still swing votes.”
“They’re all bleeding hearts,” another chimes in. “Promise them community programs and equity clauses, but bury the real plans in the fine print.”
A donor scoffs. “Greer’s already halfway in our pocket. Just needs the right nudge.”
“Monroe’s kid is looking at a drug possession charge,” someone else says casually, flipping through a folder. “That could go away.”
They all speak like this is a game. Like real people won’t be steamrolled in the process.
Burns turns to me again. “When this bill passes, we control who rebuilds this city. Who gets rich, who gets left behind. And more importantly, we shut the Russians out.”
I nod, but my jaw’s tight. It’s not just the sleaze. It’s how easy this is for them. How normal it’s all become.
I stare at the map, trying to focus on the lines and color-coded zones, but all I see is Ana’s face. Lily’s little hands. The life we’re trying to build.
If I walk away now, what happens?
Burns isn’t wrong. The Russians would seize the vacuum, pour into every crevice like water into broken pavement. Maybe this is the best way to keep them out. Maybe I just have to hold my nose and swim in the muck for a little while longer.
