Chapter 21
Victor
The High Card’s back entrance feels like crossing into another world after the confrontation with my father.
The club’s familiar scent, leather, alcohol, subtle cologne, and whatever Tyson cooked the group for lunch, wraps around me as I punch in the security code.
Voices drift from the main dungeon, life continuing despite the threats circling us. I need to find my partners.
Samuel Carter nods at me as I pass through the newly established security checkpoint. “Everything’s been quiet.”
“Where are they?”
“Owen is in his office. Luke and Matteo are in the main room with their partners. Lili is in your suite, and Grace is in your office.”
I head for the main floor, mind still churning with my father’s words. The Russian connection. Griffin Price. Grace’s possible history with him. Each revelation a landmine waiting to explode our carefully constructed peace.
The club is subdued but functional. Security personnel positioned at key points.
Tyson and Sabrina arrange food on a side table.
Hunter sits with Trinity near the bar, deep in conversation with Bellamy.
The locked-down atmosphere has settled into something almost normal, as normal as a BDSM club full of people hiding from multiple threats can be.
Luke spots me first, breaking away from his conversation with Zara. “You’re back. Everything alright at the house?”
“We need to talk. All four of us. Now.”
His expression sharpens at my tone. “Owen’s office?”
“Get Matteo. I’ll interrupt Owen.”
We separate without another word. I find Owen hunched over his computer, screens displaying security camera feeds, data streams, and what looks like financial records.
“I need you,” I say from the doorway.
He doesn’t look up. “Bit busy tracking money transfers that might lead us to…”
“My father was at my house.”
That gets his attention. His head snaps up, fingers freezing over the keyboard. “Alejandro Serrano? Here in Vegas?”
“In my kitchen. Drinking my tequila. We need to talk.”
Owen stands immediately, shutting down screens with practiced efficiency. “Your father doesn’t make social calls.”
“No. He doesn’t. Luke and Matteo are on their way.”
As if on cue, the two men appear in Owen’s door.
“Your father,” Matteo says without preamble, leaning against the bar along Owen’s far wall. “What did he want?”
I pace the length of the room, unable to settle. “He says the Russians are moving into Vegas again. Using Phineas as a front. Using others.”
“We knew about Draven’s Russian connections,” Owen says, already pulling up data on his tablet. “But the intel suggested they were minor players, not a coordinated push.”
“According to my father, it’s more organized than we thought. The mayor’s resignation, Phineas’s rumored death. It’s creating havoc and causing them to have to move up some of their plans.”
Luke’s expression darkens. “They sense a potential power vacuum and want to fill it with their own people.”
“Exactly.”
“Why come to you directly?” Matteo asks. “Your father has channels. Intermediaries. Why show up at your house?”
I stop pacing, meeting each of their eyes in turn. “He wants me to bring the family business to Vegas. Officially. Wants me to claim territory for the Serranos.”
The room goes quiet. We all understand what that would mean, the end of neutrality, the beginning of open cartel presence in a city we’ve kept relatively clean.
“And you said?” Luke prompts.
“I said no. But he left men at my house. For ‘protection.’” I make air quotes around the word.
“Spies,” Owen translates.
“Most likely. It means I’m not taking the girls back there anytime soon.”
Matteo runs a hand through his hair, a rare sign of agitation. “If your father’s intel is accurate, we have bigger problems than Phineas and Kara Lindon.”
“My father doesn’t deal in worthless information.” I resume pacing. “And there’s more. He says Griffin Price is connected to all this. That he’s been watching us. Watching me.”
“Griffin?” Luke straightens. “The asshole from Crimson Peak?”
“The same.”
Owen’s fingers fly across his tablet. “I’ve had suspicions about Price. His financials show connections to several shell companies with Russian ties. But nothing concrete enough to move on. I started digging into him when he approached us about getting into business together.”
I hesitate, unsure how much to share about Grace’s possible connection. Not yet. Not until I confirm it.
“My father suggested the direct approach. Take out Phineas and Price. Send a message.”
“Clean up the mess, cartel-style,” Matteo says, voice flat.
“I have a different idea.” I stop pacing, facing them fully. “A summit.”
Luke raises an eyebrow. “A summit?”
“We bring in our connections. Your father’s Irish organization.” I nod to Luke. “Matteo’s remaining family ties in Chicago. Owen’s family contacts. My father’s cartel representatives. Even Bellamy and Tobias’s families could have a stake in this.”
“You want to put all of our family connections in one room?” Owen sounds skeptical. “That’s a powder keg waiting for a spark.”
“It’s also a show of unified strength,” I counter. “The Russians are counting on us being fragmented, isolated. They’re testing for weaknesses in our alliance.”
“So we show them there are none,” Matteo says, catching on.
“Exactly. We bring our families to the table. Share information about Russian movements. Present a united front. Make it clear that Vegas remains neutral ground but protected.”
Luke drums his fingers on the table. “My father won’t come himself. But he’d send someone. Then again, he’s got a soft spot for my wife, so perhaps I can convince him.”
“Same with my family,” Matteo adds. “They’d send representatives, not principals. Danny doesn’t dare step foot in the same room with a Serrano after he tried to frame the cartel for my father’s death.”
“That’s fine. We just need the family connections visible. Public.”
Owen sets his tablet down. “This is risky. Putting all our cards on the table at once.”
“Riskier to do nothing,” I say. “If my father’s right, the Russians are already moving pieces. We need to respond before they consolidate power.”
“And you’re sure this isn’t about proving something to your father?” Owen asks, perceptive as always. “About showing him that cross-family alliances can work?”
I meet his gaze steadily. “Maybe it’s partly that. But it’s also smart strategy. We pool information, resources, and connections. We present a unified response.”
“And if they won’t cooperate?” Matteo asks.
“Then we know where we stand.” I shrug. “Better to find out now than when we’re in the middle of a territory war.”
The three of them exchange glances, having one of those wordless conversations long-time partners can manage. I wait, letting them process.
“I’m in,” Luke says first. “I’ll call Jamie tonight.”
“Danny will want details,” Matteo says. “Guarantees of security. Neutral ground for the meeting.”
“We can host it here,” I suggest. “It might make them take us more seriously if we hold it in a place we view as sacred.”
Owen is the last to speak. “My contacts are more corporate than familial, but they have reach. Information networks. They’ll participate if the terms are right.”
I nod, relief mixing with determination. “I’ll contact my father. Tell him we’re handling it our way, not his.”
“He won’t like that,” Luke observes.
“No. He won’t.” The thought gives me a small bit of petty satisfaction. “But he’ll participate. He won’t risk being the only major player not at the table.”
“When?” Matteo asks.
“Soon. We need to move quickly, but we also need time to secure this location, set terms. And I want to get more information on Price first.”
“I’ll start making arrangements,” Owen says. “Get the security protocols established.”
“And Phineas?” Luke asks. “He’s still sitting in our warehouse. Still a loose end.”
“We keep him secure. He might have value as leverage. And we need to find out what he knows about the Russian connection.”
The meeting shifts into planning mode, each of us taking roles that have become second nature over years of partnership.
Owen handling security and intelligence.
Matteo managing family connections and diplomacy.
Luke coordinating logistics for transporting everyone.
Me providing insight gained from years of traveling between the US and Mexico for the cartel.
My father was wrong about at least one thing. These men are my family. Not by blood, but by choice. By trust earned through fire and danger. And together, we’re going to protect what we’ve built, no matter what it takes.
Later, I find Lili in our suite, propped against pillows on the king bed.
Her arm is bandaged where Phineas cut her, bruises fading from purple to yellow green along her collarbone.
The doctor’s been keeping her medicated, but her eyes are clear when they meet mine.
She sets aside the book she’s reading, marking her place with deliberate care.
“You look like hell,” she says by way of greeting.
“Been that kind of day.” I shut the door behind me, lock engaging with a soft click. The suite feels like a sanctuary after everything, the warehouse, my father, the strategy session with the others. Here, with her, I can breathe.
“Grace said you went to the house.” She shifts, making room for me beside her. “Find what you needed?”
“Found my father instead.”
Her eyebrows lift. “Your father? The head of the cartel?”
“The same.” I sit on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle her injured arm. “He left guards at the house. For protection, he says.”
“And you believe that?”
“I believe he wants to know my every move.” I run a hand over my face, feeling the stubble I haven’t bothered to shave. “He had some interesting information. About the Russians. About Phineas.”
“Is that why you’ve been in Owen’s office for the last hour? Planning world domination with the boys?”
A small smile breaks through despite everything. “Something like that. We’re organizing a summit. Bringing our family connections together to address the Russian threat.”
Lili watches me carefully. She’s good at that—reading between my words, finding what I’m not saying. “I appreciate you sharing all of this. But there’s more, isn’t there? Something you’re not telling me.”
I take her hand, the one not attached to her injured arm. Her skin is warm, alive. A reminder of what I almost lost. “My father had information about Grace. About a potential connection to Griffin Price.”
“The asshole from the other night?” Her fingers tighten around mine. “What kind of connection?”
“A history. Before Vegas. Before us.” I don’t elaborate further. The details are Grace’s to share if they’re even true. “It might explain some things about her stalker situation.”
“You think Price is behind it? Last night you implied it was someone you knew about.”
“I think the stalker could be working with him. It fits. The timing. The pattern.” I trace circles on the back of her hand with my thumb. “But there’s more. More threats. More complications.”
Lili shifts closer, wincing slightly with the movement. “Like what?”
I hesitate. “It’s all connected somehow, and Grace is at the center.”
“And you still haven’t told her.”
It’s not a question. She already knows the answer from our argument last night.
“No.” I meet her gaze directly. “But you were right. I need to. She deserves to know everything.”
Lili’s expression softens. “Yes, she does.”
“I’m worried about how she’ll take it. Learning the identity of her stalker. Me asking about Price. All of it.”
“She’s stronger than you think.”
“I know she’s strong. That’s not what worries me.” I stand, restless energy making me pace to door and back. “What worries me is that she’ll blame herself. Take responsibility for things beyond her control. You know how she is.”
“I do.” Lili’s voice is gentle. “But hiding the truth to protect her feelings isn’t the answer.”
“I know that too.” Facing her again I exhale slowly and give her more honesty than I have so far. “I just don’t know how to tell her. What words to use. How to make sure she understands that none of this is her fault.”
Lili considers this, her head tilted slightly. The bruise on her temple has faded to a dull yellow, barely visible now against her skin. “Take her on a date.”
“A date?” The suggestion is so unexpected I almost laugh. “In the middle of all this?”
“Yes, a date.” She sits up straighter, wincing slightly. “Somewhere special. Somewhere that makes her feel safe and loved. Then tell her everything. The whole truth, with no holding back.”
I shake my head, but the idea has merit. “We’re under lockdown. The club isn’t safe enough to leave.”
“You can make it safe, Vic. She needs to know you see her as more than someone to protect. That you trust her with the truth, no matter how ugly.” A sly smile spreads across her face. “And I know just the place you should take her.”