77. Dante
77
DANTE
F or my online meeting with Claymore, I log in to the app and the seconds tick by until Clay finally appears on the screen. A fraught Stella is in the background, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her as worried as she seems to be right now. I know something is definitely wrong when she doesn’t even ask me about Kingsley, but instead starts jotting down notes on a pad, as is her usual practice. It is all business today.
Clay called the meeting so we could discuss Tate and what he’d found out about the man so far.
“What we do know so far isn’t good, Dante. You should be aware before we go any further.”
“I’m listening.”
“The story is a little more convoluted that we thought. We’ve found out who the men are that broke into your home.”
I sit up in my chair and move toward the screen, as though it will provide me with a quicker way to the answer I am looking for. I look impatiently at Clay, willing him to speed things up already. I’ve told him about the contents of Maddog’s letter to his daughter. We’d identified that Tate was more of a threat than originally perceived – after all, he’d killed my brother and tried to kill King’s father. That in itself put him on my hitlist. I am just unbelievably glad that he hadn’t hurt Kingsley when he’d had the chance. It was a miracle that he’d kept her alive, and I believe there is a reason why he had; obviously he wanted something he couldn’t get his hands on unless she was alive and under his control.
Claymore’s voice comes through the speaker and I once again turn my attention to him.
“Your man Tomas Wojcak has a best friend, who’s also a member of the Savages. He also happens to be best friends with Lucas Gables’s brother, Adam.”
Clay pauses for endless seconds, and I feel compelled to ask him why that is important to us.
“It’s important to us because it seems like someone tipped off Wojcak to your location the day of the meet with Lucas Gables. That someone could only have been Adam Gables; apparently, Lucas feels a need to constantly sing like a canary, so there’s no telling what else he’s spilled his guts about.”
I mutter a curse and feel like I can kick myself when I realize where this is going. This is what I mean by not letting a woman interfere with my head; because it stops working. Claymore is now telling me the ambush in which I got shot was not merely a case of opportunity – it had in fact been a planned attack.
“It gets worse. After he lost Wojcak, Tate upped the bounty to ten million dollars, but he wanted professionals.”
“And Wojcak’s best friend wanted him back,” I guess. Clay nods in a way that tells me he is delighted that I’ve caught on so quickly.
“With a ten million dollar bounty, more money than a club will ever see in its lifetime, and the added clout it would bring them to capture your girl, Lucas Gables himself decided to take the contract.”
“Motherfucker,” I spit.
“This is where the situation gets smelly. Lucas enlists the help of Wojcak’s best friend, who’s an ex navy seal and has many like minded friends. That’s where the mercenaries came from.”
“So Lucas was behind the whole thing.”
“For the most part, but it gets interesting. Whilst he commissioned Samuel Ford’s team of mercenaries, they’re all yet to be paid. Tate was depending on Kingsley’s money paying for her own bounty. Lucas has now gone missing with the one million that he was paid, the mercenaries are up in arms searching for Lucas and Tate, and Tate is now pressed up against a wall. I don’t think there’s any need for me to tell you that a desperate man will do desperate things, Dante.”
“He needs Kingsley’s money – it’s the only way for him to get himself out of the hole he’s dug himself into,” I say.
“The danger here is that this may affect you adversely, Dante. And the mercenaries may take it upon themselves to try to ransom Kingsley for the money they’re owed. It’s happened before.”
“How sure are we of these facts?” I ask him, my mind already springing into action and formulating a plan.
“Ironclad.”
“I want more than a hundred percent sure. Then I want a direct line to Samuel Ford. Call me when you have something concrete so we can finish this once and for all.”
* * *
I find Samuel Ford in a little hole in the wall burger joint that’s seen better days. Now that King has become the main focus of my life, I feel I have to shift my priorities and make things work in our favor. I will not lose her just when I’ve found her. So I have to make a deal with the devil. I must shift my alliances and utilize any means possible to keep her out of harm’s way. And I’m going to do whatever is necessary to eliminate Tate once and for all.
I slide into the booth he’s sitting in. Ford is nursing a drink and a cigarette; he’s already broken two cardinal rules so early in the morning. I make no comment as he looks up, his eyes going wide as he moves a hand to his waistband. I signal Marco, who’s standing a few feet away watching us like a hawk, to stand down. This one I want to take care of myself, and I’m going to relish every fucking moment of it. I can literally smell his blood.
Before Ford even knows what hit him, I’ve flicked out a pocket-knife and pushed it through the webbing between the thumb and forefinger of his other hand. I want him immobilized, not dead. He’s ex Navy Seal, so I get no more than a wince out of him, but it will have to suffice. He brings his other hand back to the table, places it adjacent to the staked one and waits, just like any good soldier would.
“I don’t think there’s a need for introductions here,” I greet him. He grunts. The introduction is the knife pinning his hand to the table.
I fold my hands against each other, a habit from my priesthood days, and watch him. He’s not much of a threat. Especially when money is the currency he deals in.
“You broke into my home. You trashed it. And you took what is mine.”
“It was a job,” he mutters.
“I respect and commend your ambition to hold down a job.”
My voice oozes sarcasm as my eyes go to the tumbler of whisky sitting in front of him. The smoke from his discarded cigarette wraps around his face like a screen as it circles through the air. In a different time, this man could have been considered ruggedly handsome, but he’s obviously let the ravages of war and excessive vice take their toll on him. He had once been a Navy Seal, no small feat; momentarily, my mind wonders what has led him down this path of self destruction. I toss the question out of my head and fix him with a thunderous look.
“You. Took. Something. That wasn’t yours to take, ” I bellow.
“You have my brother!” he retaliates. I don’t bother to tell him that Thomas Wojcak is long gone.
I lay my hands flat on the table, tap my fingers once, and hold my breath until I summon up more anger than I’ve known in a long while.
“Your so called best friend shot me. You two have messed with the wrong people.”
His expression is contrite. He knows exactly who I am and exactly how far they’ve crossed the invisible line that’s not meant to be crossed in our world. Mafia bosses are untouchable, especially by the likes of some small time Motorcycle Gang that is fraying at the seams. The retribution alone will be enormous. He’s aware of this, and that’s precisely why he’s moved all immediate family members into a safe house for protection. He knows what’s coming.
“I want Tate,” I say, without further preamble.
He shakes his head. “I don’t know where he is.”
“Listen to me carefully,” I hiss, pulling him toward me by his collar. “This is a one time offer. One time only. You take it or leave it.”
I have to sweeten the pot somehow. In his mind, I’m giving him more than what I’m getting, but he can never know that in ensuring King’s safety, I’m getting so much more than he’ll get in a lifetime. I can deal with the fallout afterward, but I’ll do anything to put this ordeal behind us once and for all before she and I get married. I don’t want our life together starting out with the specter of Tate hanging over us. I don’t want any loose ends. And I sure as hell don’t want this disaster to reinvent itself after I lay it to bed. So I offer him something that I know there’s no way he’ll refuse. I let go of his collar and sit back, assessing Ford carefully. I hope I’m reading him right; I’m not often wrong, but I’m not sure that I can be impartial when thoughts of King are what pervade my mind.
“You give me Tate. I’ll give you the ten million dollar bounty Tate promised you. I know the mercenaries you hired are riding your back hard to get paid and you need that money to stay alive. You keep the rest.”
There’s a spark in his eyes. It flickers then diminishes; I don’t mention Wojcak so he probably knows he’s never getting his friend back. So I go on; perhaps he’s smart enough to salvage what little is left of his life with my offer.
“If you ever catch up to Lucas Gables, I want his head served to me on a platter. A silver one. Because gold is above his station.”
Ford looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. He needs to understand just how demented I can be, so I roll with it and don’t bother correcting him.
“You’re willing to pay out the bounty,” he says, disbelieving.
“If it rids the earth of scum like Tate, then yes, I’ll pay the bounty.”
“And if I refuse?” he challenges. He already knows the answer to that. Anything he says from here on out is small talk.
“If you refuse, I’ll put you out of your misery and plant a bullet through your head. Only one bullet, because at the moment that’s all you’re worth to me. After that, each one of your family members, one by one, so they can all join you in hell. And you know I’ll make good on my promise.”
“You wouldn’t touch my family,” he gasps, but the look he gives me is one of uncertainty.
“You touched mine first.”