Chapter Nineteen
Mason
“I’m perfectly capable of handling this on my own.”
My father snorts next to me but doesn’t move his gaze from the glass. “Given how your last few meetings have gone, it’s better for everyone if I’m there.”
My head swivels in his direction, and I frown. “You would’ve done the same thing.”
My father raises an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t have taken so many men and left the estate undefended. I also wouldn’t have put my fucking life on the line for that woman.”
I clench my hands into fists. “That woman is not going anywhere, and the sooner you can accept that, the better it will be for all of us.”
I’m goddamn tired of rehashing the same argument with my father.
I don’t expect him to approve of London, and I don’t need him to.
But I do need him to make his peace with her presence because it’ll make things a hell of a lot easier, especially when it comes to presenting a unified front.
There are too many messes, too many fires to put out, and while I thrive under pressure and the chance to show everyone why our family is not to be messed with, I can’t be everywhere at once.
Between the attacks on the warehouse, the mole in our midst, and having to plan an engagement to Elise, I’m ready to snap.
The Fitzpatricks and Everetts should’ve been brought to heel by now. The old you would’ve had this taken care of already.
I shove the thought away and focus on my father, who is watching me intently.
I don’t like the gleam in his eyes or the pursing of his lips.
Something is up with him.
I’m getting a headache considering all the possible ways he might be trying to screw with me.
Jack Payne always has a plan, and today is no exception.
A meeting brokered by the Thayers with the intent of bringing all the major players to the table isn’t the kind of thing he’d be caught dead going to.
He doesn’t believe in truces.
He thinks you’ve failed to hold up your end of the bargain, and he’s not wrong. The Fitzpatricks and Everetts are even more dangerous and unpredictable than before, and just because it’s been a week of silence doesn’t mean it’s over.
Even this meeting doesn’t mean anything if we can’t get them to stop the mayhem.
“Besides,” Jack continues, “I’m curious how Thayer got them to come to the table to begin with. Unless he’s offered them something else.”
I make a noncommittal sound but don’t reply.
Thatcher must’ve made a deal with them.
It’s the only thing that makes sense.
With a growl, I turn away from my father and turn my attention to the window, and the world rushing past, a blur of shapes and colors.
At the traffic light, I hear my father sipping his drink.
Then there’s a clicking sound, and I move to see a puff of smoke shrouding him.
I glance away from the cigar dangling from his mouth.
Taking my anger out on him isn’t going to solve anything.
He’s not the most pressing issue at hand.
He’s always responded to initiative, and pushing back in the past has earned his respect. Maybe that’s what he’s trying to do now. Show him that the monster he created and unleashed is still there. Give him something to work with.
Except my father has always excelled at being able to spot a ruse.
He already disapproves of the shred of humanity I still possess and has been trying to push it out of me for years.
The last thing I need is to have him scrutinize me further.
When the car pulls up outside a nondescript building on the edge of town, flickering streetlamps are the only sign of life other than a few cars parked across the street.
Carlisle gets out of the passenger seat, and a few more men pour out of the car behind us and join him.
Once they’re done sweeping the perimeter, someone opens the door, and my father steps out.
I exhale and join him.
Four men are standing guard in the entryway to the door.
After a quick search, one of them unlocks the door, revealing a dark carpeted hallway.
I shift, favoring the leg that doesn’t have a gun tucked into the sock.
Bright light flicks on, and the hallway lights up, revealing Thatcher in a striped pantsuit.
He motions to us to follow him into a large room with an arched door, a mahogany table in the center, and a smattering of chairs.
A few men are standing with their backs against the walls, and their eyes sweep over us before looking away.
“Forgive the dust and disarray; the place is under renovation,” Thatcher says. “Shall we begin?”
“We’re missing a few people,” I point out. “Unless Everett and Fitzpatrick got some cosmetic surgery.”
Thatcher shakes his head. “These are the representatives that each of the families sent. Michael and Lance are otherwise occupied.”
A burst of anger shoots through me.
Fucking bastards.
This is a power move if I’ve ever seen one.
“You can’t be fucking serious—”
“Now, now, Mason. Play nice,” Thatcher interrupts. “It doesn’t matter who came as long as they did. Isn’t the point of this negotiating the terms of a new alliance?”
“I wasn’t done talking,” I tell Thatcher. “The next time you interrupt me, they’ll be finding your body parts for days.”
Thatcher’s face loses some of its color as he turns away and clears his throat.
“Yes, well, on that note, I thought it was important to remind you all of why we’re here.
Our families go too far back for this misunderstanding to continue, and let’s not forget how well the alliance worked before everything went sideways. ”
I snort.
Thatcher stops in the center of the room and spreads his arms. “It’s time to put the past behind us and bury the hatchet. I think we can all agree that enough damage has been done.”
“Not even close,” I say. “We won’t be satisfied until they all bleed and are begging for goddamn mercy. Even then, it won’t be enough.”
Silence stretches across the room.
Thatcher winces. “Yes, I’m sure reparations can be made on both sides.”
I look over at my father, but he says nothing.
I hope he’s already plotting how to take down every single one of these motherfuckers.
Slowly and painfully.
As Thatcher launches into the next part of his rehearsed speech, I take another look around the room, and the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. Thatcher drones on in the background, but I don’t listen to a word.
They’re not here to broker a truce.
The men in attendance look like they couldn’t care less, but other than the quiet voice in the back of my head yelling at me to get out, I have nothing else to go on.
The certainty in my gut is telling me this is a trap.
I look away from Thatcher and glance over my shoulder at Carlisle.
He nods and quietly retreats.
I’m on edge while he’s gone, my mind jumping between scenarios, each involving having to fight our way out.
Katia knows what to do if you don’t make it back. She’ll make sure London gets to safety, and Carlisle has orders for Oliver and Olivia.
By the time Carlisle returns, Thatcher has been speaking for ten minutes, and the pounding in my skull has intensified. I swing my attention to Elise’s father, who pauses to wipe his forehead with a napkin. I advance on him, and a flicker of fear moves over his face before he stamps it out.
“I think this is all bullshit.”
Thatcher blinks and puts away his handkerchief. “I beg your pardon?”
“Something is clearly happening. I don’t know why you lured us here, but I don’t like having my time wasted, Thayer.”
“We have an agreement,” he says.
“One I’m sure your daughter will be happy to honor should anything unfortunate happen here,” I respond. “The question is, how much do you trust your new friends?”
Thatcher doesn’t look away. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I remove the gun from my sock and point it at him. “I’m not in the habit of shooting my allies, but if there’s one thing I hate, it’s rats. I’m sure Elise told you what we did to the last one since I made sure to share that story with her.”
Thatcher’s eyes widen. “I resent the implication. I am not a rat.”
I point the gun at one of the representatives, and they all stiffen. “Your new friends are planning something. Either you’re too stupid to see it, or they made you a better offer. Which is it?”
“I can assure you that this meeting was put together with the best of intentions—”
I remove the safety. “Once I start shooting, you’re going to wish you’d told me the truth when you had the chance. I might even be persuaded to make your death quick.”
Thatcher looks over at my father, whose expression remains blank. “Aren’t you going to do something? He’s going to derail everything.”
“My son has killer instincts,” Jack replies. “I taught him myself, and he’s right to question all of this.”
Thatcher throws both hands up and swallows. “The last thing anyone in this room wants is for things to get out of hand again. There’s still a chance for us to salvage—”
I point the gun at Thatcher again, and he snaps his mouth shut. “Don’t you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk? I know I do.”
“Elise will never honor an agreement with the man who killed her father,” Thatcher warns.
The phone in my pocket rings, slicing through the tension in the air.
I use my free hand to whip it out and answer without looking.
A few moments later, I slide the phone back into my pocket and press the gun to the side of Thatcher’s head. “Let’s go. You’re coming with us. Carlisle, take care of the rest.”
A shout goes up, and there’s a scuffle as I drag Thatcher off, knowing my father is close behind. Gunshots ring out before we get into the car. I push Thatcher into the back seat and slide in after him. We peel away from the curb a few moments later, tires screeching in the stillness of the night.
“I just received a phone call informing me that a warrant has been issued for our club.”
Thatcher holds his arms in his lap to hide the tremor. “A warrant?”
“The premises are being searched for illegal activity,” I continue. “Your ambush didn’t work, Thayer. Now, give me one good reason why I shouldn’t dump your body on Elise’s doorstep.”
Thatcher glances from my father to me and back again. “I had nothing to do with this, I swear.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
“I don’t know,” Thatcher responds. “Tell me what I can do to make you see that I’m not your enemy.”
I grunt and lower the gun.
Slowly, I reach into the compartment in the center and pull out a few zip ties.
Thatcher’s hands are shaking as it takes a few tries for him to put them together.
While he does, I call Carlisle, who is on his way to the club with reinforcements.
The search won’t yield any results, but I know we can’t afford the added scrutiny.
I hang up on Carlisle and dial Katia, who answers on the third ring. “Has it been taken care of?”
“Yes.”
I switch the phone to my other ear. “Good. Get back to London once you’re done.”
The line goes dead, and I tuck the phone away.
When we arrive at the Payne estate, the gates are wide open, and there’s a swarm of reporters in front of the club. Red and blue lights flash as a few uniformed cops stand behind yellow tape. As the car pulls up, everyone gathered erupts into a frenzy, and several cameras flash in our direction.
My father gets out first.
I shoot Thatcher a warning look before my fingers move to the buttons of my shirt. “One sound, one wrong move, and you’ll be begging me to have Elise honor our agreement.”
Thatcher gives me a tight nod and stiffens.
I tuck the gun away and hurry out of the car.
There’s a loud ringing in my ears as the cops clear a path for me, and I walk right up to the club, where my family is waiting at the top of the stairs. We turn to face the camera, and the cacophony of voices grows.
Carlisle sidles up to me, and I lean into him. “How the fuck did this happen?”
“Some reporter,” Carlisle says. “We’re working on figuring out who it is.”
I offer the crowd another wave. “Make sure our people on the inside help. Double their pay.”
Carlisle nods and disappears through the double doors.
Once we’re inside, Oliver and Olivia start talking over each other.
Our father stands near a booth in the corner, nursing a drink.
I spot Thatcher being brought in, his hands tied behind his back, and a panicked look in his eyes.
I stalk over to him, yank him forward, and throw him into the nearest booth.
“Are you ready to talk?”
Thatcher stares dumbly. “I already told you; I don’t know anything. The Fitzpatricks reached out to me. I didn’t even—”
I cut him off with a low, humorless laugh. “You fucking idiot. You didn’t think to make sure it was legit?”
Thatcher scowls. “Why would I?”
“Because you allied yourself with us, which means you’re probably next.”
Thatcher sputters. “We have an agreement. If they try anything—”
“Our agreement is void if you fuck us over,” I interrupt. “You should be thankful I haven’t already killed you.”
Without waiting for a response, I turn on my back and retrieve a bottle from the bar.
When Carlisle returns, my siblings are still arguing, and my father is bent over Thatcher. I know he’ll make him break. I motion to Carlisle, and we retreat a few steps. He waits a few seconds before he reaches into his jacket for an envelope.
“The lead reporter on this is Noah’s brother.”
I snatch the envelope and rip it open. “You’re fucking kidding.”
Carlisle shakes his head. “He has a different last name, and there’s some kind of falling out. I reached out to some people, and he’s been working on a story about corruption.”
I rifle through the pictures, growing angrier by the minute. “Let me guess. Noah pointed him in our direction.”
“Noah has been meeting with his father a lot lately,” Carlisle adds. “We’re working on killing the story before it gains any traction.”
I nod to Carlisle. “I think it’s time we paid Noah a visit. It’s long overdue. But before we do, make sure accommodations are prepared for our guest. Mr. Thayer will be staying with us for a while.”
Until I put all of the pieces of this puzzle together, I don’t want any more fucking surprises.