“We have leverage,” Finn says. His eyes glint. He may be sober, but something has him in its grip. He’s hooked. “We can take this fucker down.”
Lachlan takes a slow sip of whiskey. He has the look in his eyes he gets when he’s talking to a new supplier. There’s a shadow cast over his eyes, a hint of the gears turning in his head. When he looks up, his eyes are fiery.
“We’ll do this carefully. Perfectly. There will be no room for failure.”
Connor bites at his lip. He has the mulish look of a man who wants to argue, but he knows better. This is Lachlan’s and my show. We’re calling the shots.
“Okay,” Connor says. His smirk is more controlled this time, the glint to it wicked. “Let’s do this.”
Lachlan moves suddenly, sliding his glass onto the table in the same motion that he uses to cross the room and open the door.
“We owe Donovan a visit. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
I’m out of my seat before I can think about moving. I don’t look back to see if Finn closes the door. I know he and Connor are behind us.
I know where we’re headed. Antonio’s front of choice is an investment firm. Before everything, we used to joke about how boring it was. We’d tease him for being like a middle-class father, working an office job and never having a real life.
It seems like a lifetime ago, now.
We all duck into Lachlan’s car. It’s sleek, black, low to the ground. He has good taste, but he doesn’t like branded things or fancy labels. With Lachlan, it’s all about anonymity and image.
Ironic, given that he owns a strip club.
“We’re going to nail him,” Connor says, shutting his door a little too hard.
Lachlan doesn’t even notice. “We are. But we’re doing this carefully.”
“Fuck careful—”
“No.” One word and Connor shuts up. Lachlan’s been able to do that since he was a kid. He inherited some of our father’s intimidation. Maybe not as much as I did.
I adjust my seat and lean it back. “We do this right, we can enjoy the show,” I remind Connor. “Can’t see the fireworks if you’re there lighting the fuse.”
“I thought we wanted him to burn,” Connor says, his words tense.
If there’s one thing I know about Connor, it’s that he’s always raring for a fight. It’s the one thing that sets him apart from the rest of us. Not that he’s adopted, but that he’s always looking for a fight.
Not that the rest of us don’t fight. We just wait for the fools to come to us.
“We do,” Lachlan says patiently. It’s a wonder he can stay so calm. “But you remember what the Assembly did last time.”
“Nothing,” Finn mutters. I glance back at him. He’s unusually quiet.
“So?” Connor snaps. “They aren’t calling the shots now.”
“They’re always calling the shots,” Lachlan says darkly. No room for argument.
I wave a hand toward the backseat. “We’ll get our due. But Lachlan is right—we do this perfectly. We make sure he burns, but we do it right.”
Connor gives up, thank god. I hate the way Antonio puts us all on edge like this. It’s the closest we ever come to not being perfectly in tune with one another. We’re usually on the same page. Antonio can throw us all into chaos if we’re not careful.
Still, I’d trust Connor to get shit done if my life depended on it. We all have that same feeling, the bone deep surety that we will support each other no matter what comes our way.
That thought is what makes us silent, not brooding but waiting. Preparing.
The rest of the drive goes by quickly. Lachlan pulls up to a spot and pauses before turning the car off, turning to look at Connor and Finn.
“Wait and listen,” he says. He’s not asking. “I’ll lead. We are going to walk in and tell him exactly what he doesn’t want to hear, and he will have no choice but to say yes.”
