Page 45 of The Truths We Seek

The maître d’ takes our drink orders before practically sprinting away from the table. We make small talk until our drinks are bought over to us before placing our order. I get the filet steak with lobster tail, because obviously, ordering is a dick measuring contest too. Just like ordering the top-shelf whiskey. I’m also assuming I’m picking up the tab today, not that it bothers me, but fuck I hate this political bullshit. There’s a reason I’m not in politics. I might be good at it, but I despise it.

Once our server leaves, the smile drops from Edward’s face as he leans back in his chair and takes a sip of his whiskey. “Let’s talk business, shall we?”

“I didn’t realize we had business,” I retort, and O’Connor knocks my foot with his under the table. I get it, play nice, he’s the one who’s going to have to get us out of here if shit really hits the fan since I could only carry light. He, however, is armed to the eyeballs beneath that somewhat-baggy getup of his. “What is it, exactly, that you’d like to discuss?”

Edward smirks, but it’s Marc who leans forward. “As I’m sure you’re aware, Marino, your family is known to the law enforcement in our city. You’ve been garnering attention that I’m sure you’re not fond of as of late, especially since a cop seems to have mysteriously gone missing, who is linked to your new… acquaintance. Miss Summers?”

I keep my face blank, even at the sound of her name in his filthy mouth.

“No idea about any officer going missing, mister mayor. Sounds like police business to me.” I take another sip of my drink, leaning back casually, popping my ankle up on my knee. “But if you need some help searching for him, I’m sure we could ask some of our more street-level friends. I’m sure your friends look in higher places than mine.”

“I’m sure,” he responds tartly. “As I was saying, recent activity has drawn attention and we can help with that.”

Letting his words hang in the air, like I’m contemplating his offer, I take another sip. It’s good whiskey at least, this visit won’t be a total waste of my time. I glance over at Edward, who is smiling like a cat with the canary in his teeth, while Stone looks bored out of his mind. “In return for what, exactly? What is it you want from my family and me?”

“Well, Meyer. May I call you Meyer?” Edward says, pulling a cigar from the inside pocket of his jacket. I wrinkle my nose as he lights it. The stench is vile, but I keep my mouth shut. “What we want, is to help you. For a piece of the pie, as it were.”

I quirk a brow as I lean forward, keeping eye contact with him. “And why is it you think we’d want your help, Edward? The Knights have stayed out of my city until now and we’ve been doing more than just okay without you. I understand how this deal benefits you, but I’m yet to see how it is that this would benefit us. You say we’re garnering attention, but if you think I don’t already have that covered, you’ve sorely underestimated me. There’s a reason we’ve grown to what we have, and it’s not because I’m a stupid businessman.”

Edward’s jaw ticks and it’s enough to cause the corners of my lips to tilt upward. This fuck wants something for nothing and I’ll be fucked if I’m going to bend to him just because of the potential power behind him. The Knights definitely pose a threat, and I’m not opposed to an agreement with them, but not over something so pathetic and flimsy as help with the local police force.

“What is it that you’d want in return then, Meyer?” Edward asks. Marc opens his mouth to chip in, but is silenced by a look from Edward. It’s very obvious that our Mayor isn’t used to being put in his place, but he’s not the big fish at this table, even if he does supposedly run this city.

If only he knew how little power he truly had. I could have him removed from his seat with ease, but until now, he’s never been an issue for me. The police commissioner is an old friend of Mama’s, he’d be perfect for mayor if I really wanted, but that’s an ace in the hole for later.

“I’m not sure what you have to offer us,” I finally reply. “Like I say, we’ve been doing just fine on our own. Is there a reason that you’re only now looking at my city?”

Stone snorts a laugh. “He’s not stupid. Got to give him that.”

Edward glares at the rockstar, who gulps back his second glass of vodka before picking up the third that was bought to him. “We previously had an agreement with someone who was dabbling here. He’s no longer a problem.”

My stomach drops at the realization. “I assume you’re talking about my godfather, Tommy DeLuca?”

“Your godfather?” Edward asks, his shock apparent. Oh, good. “I didn’t realize. My sympathies.”

“Appreciated. But yes, my godfather. Technically, he worked for me, his contacts were and still are mine. His connections were and are mine, so whatever agreement you had with him still stands.”

Edward grips his glass, his rage apparent.

“Any agreement he had in place would’ve been on either mine or my father’s behalf, so I’m afraid I’m going to need to look into that before we discuss anything further.” I finish my glass and stand, O’Connor following suit. “I’m going to get right on that, so apologies for cutting this short, but I want to get this cleared up. If you’ll excuse us.”

I tip my head to him, re-button my jacket, and stride away from the table. Tommy had way too much shit in place that he apparently didn’t fill me in on. I loved the old man, but fuck me, I could’ve used a heads up on this one. We make it outside and the kid at the valet runs to grab the car. It takes less than thirty seconds before the car is in front of us. O’Connor checks it over before getting in while I slide a hundred to the kid.

“Where to?” O’Connor asks once the door is closed, and I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“Home, I need to call Mateo home or head out east. I don’t want to do either, but I need to look over Tommy’s stuff, like, yesterday.”

* * *

After an exhausting day, I find myself on a private jet, Quinn opposite me, wide-eyed about the plane, even though she’s fidgeting enough for me to know that she’s on edge about going to Tommy’s place.

Hunter strides toward us from the pilot’s cabin, smiling at the air host who hands him a glass of what I’m assuming is whiskey, not apple juice.

“Should you be drinking while you’re still healing?” Quinn asks him as he sits opposite her.

He leans forward and rests a hand on her knee to stop her leg bouncing before busting out that megawatt smile of his. I smirk as I glance back down at my phone and the petulant response I just got from Mateo, which steals some of the joy of watching their exchange.

“Whiskey is good for the mind, body, and soul. Rob would never tell me not to drink it.”

---