The Greatest Risk (Honey #3)

Stellan had no interest in what kind of woman a man like Fred would call for him.

A man like Fred, the kind who had zero legitimate concerns and thus made his money, raised his family, and went to sleep beside his wife as a criminal, but wanted to move into legitimate concerns way too late to even begin to wash the black marks from his soul—mattered not a thing to Stellan.

Except for the fact he ranged the edge of Sixx’s life.

And that had to stop.

“So, if you should have another job, you’ll find another resource,” Stellan declared.

“Don’t know, my man,” Fred drawled, proving one way he could be a buffoon. “After Dillinger left it, the field got empty. Tucker refuses to work for me because that mouthy wife of his hates my guts. I need something done, what’m I supposed to do?”

“You have a creative way of dealing with human resources, Fred. I’m sure you’ll come up with something.”

And this was true. For instance, when someone did something Fred didn’t like, if that someone was a man, Fred had his balls cut off, put in Formaldehyde, and they sat on a shelf behind his desk.

Again, not someone he wanted around Sixx.

And whatever jobs a man like that would throw her way?

Absolutely not.

“You’re leaving me at a disadvantage here, Lange, without offering me anything to even that shit out,” Fred noted.

“If I remember correctly, I’m having words with a couple of council members about that parcel of land out past Queen’s Creek you want so badly.”

“That’s a deal, we agreed,” Fred said roughly.

“Sadly, before they play out, some deals need to be renegotiated.”

Fred didn’t like to hear that, and as a man known to have a short fuse—which kept him in his position of lowly-criminal-with-a-moderate-empire, one he put great effort into keeping rather than elevating past, even in the world he inhabited—he didn’t wait to share his displeasure.

Complete buffoon.

“You sittin’ like a fat cat in your skyscraper—” Fred began.

Stellan uncrossed his legs, swiveled to his desk and cut him off.

“Listen to me,” he growled. “It amused me to do something for you, and it suited me to hold a marker from you. It turns out I’m calling that before I expected to. And you’ll allow me to do that. You’ll not contact Sixx for any jobs before that land deal goes through, and you’ll not do it after. If you do, we’ll have issues.”

“We’ll have issues,” Fred mimicked. “Think you’re a big man, throwin’ your weight and connections around, think your money and all that protects you, but you’re a pussy in a suit.”

“Sylvie Creed has no issues working with me,” Stellan said quietly. “You’re correct. She does dislike you. Quite intensely. She’d enjoy fucking with you and your business. I wouldn’t have to pay her, even though I would. And if you even thought of touching Sylvie, Tucker Creed would find you and rip your throat out with his bare hands. But listen to me, Fred, I might start out letting Sylvie have her fun with you, but I wouldn’t let it end that way. I look like I look because I have taste and a good barber. I would not underestimate me if I were you.”

“Excuse me for not quaking in my boots,” Fred returned snidely. “What’s a pussy like you gonna do to me?”

“If you engage Sixx again, I’ll eliminate you.”

The fury was tangible when Fred replied, “Are you seriously threatening to kill me?”

“Of course not,” Stellan returned unperturbedly. “There are a variety of ways to eliminate someone, Fred. And I’d get creative.”

“Yeah,” the snide was back, “pussy.”

“If you put Sixx in harm’s way, which I define as her being anywhere near you or your business ventures, I will make you hurt. And I’ll enjoy doing it.”

“We’ll see how that goes,” Fred retorted.

“The land deal is off the table.”

“Fuck that, I don’t need that shit.”

He did.

And he’d never get it without Stellan.

The fool.

“And any further attempts to increase your legitimate dealings will be cut off at every pass, something you very much want to happen because your wife wants you to reach retirement age, and she sees her future foursomes of golf not including you.”

“We’ll see,” Fred muttered, letting slip a nuance of discomfort at how much and how personal Stellan’s information ran.

“And you can forget the nail parlor and smoothie shop. Neither can launder your money anymore considering I purchased the properties both inhabit last week, and I’m revoking their leases.”

Fred had nothing to say to that.

Stellan turned back to the view and crossed his legs, asking, “Have I lost you?”

“Set up that play,” Fred whispered. “You set up that goddamn play before you even promised me those votes.”

“I never enter negotiations without complete understanding I have the upper hand.”

“That was a smart play, but this one isn’t,” Fred warned.

“No, what isn’t a smart play is dealing with someone who has a variety of things you want and not giving him the only thing he asks for, something that means nothing to you. Doing that simply in an attempt to communicate you have the bigger balls, when doing it means you do not. Now, if I read your response right, you’re threatening me. And I can assure you that if you test me, I’ll retaliate.”

“And if I test your woman?”

Stellan’s neck got tight.

But his voice was smooth when he returned, “Then Sixx will retaliate, and you’ll feel humiliated when she lands you on your ass. But I’d wager that’s the last thing you’d feel before she carved a blade across your throat.”

“So you know the reputation of this bitch you’re so fuckin’ hot to keep outta the game,” Fred noted.

“I know there’s one worse enemy you can have in Phoenix outside Sixx Marchesa, and it isn’t me. It’s Branch Dillinger. And if you hurt her or me, before either of us could make a play, you’d be dealing with him.”

Not surprisingly, the specter of Dillinger worked.

Then again, even Stellan might think twice before he crossed Branch Dillinger. Unless he liked you, and there were few in that club, the man was cold as stone. And vengeance served up from a man with an elite set of skills who looked at the vast majority of humanity as globs of matter that shared space with him was not something anyone would wish to elicit.

“Fine. You want it, my man, you got it,” Fred spat. “Figure you callin’ me means you’re doin’ this without her knowin’, so it’s gonna be you who’s gonna be on your ass.”

The truth was, Stellan was very curious what Simone’s response was going to be.

And after their match in bed the day before, he was hoping she’d give that avenue a repeat try.

“Don’t call this number again, asshole,” Fred finished.

“Delightedly.”

“Pussy,” Fred muttered.

“Buffoon,” Stellan returned clearly.

“Fuck you.”

“Aren’t we done?” Stellan asked.

“Yeah we—”

Stellan made them done.

He hung up.

He didn’t have time for that.

He had other calls to make.

*

“Stellan, my brother,” Aryas answered.

“Aryas,” Stellan replied.

“Good news for you,” Aryas told him before Stellan could begin talking about why he’d called. “Got a Domme in training. She could use an experienced sub, and from my take on her, the boy you talked to me about would be good for her. If he’s up for a session or two, I’d waive the guest pass he’d have to normally pay. Can’t waive the background check though, so he’d have to make an appointment to come in, fill out the paperwork, and talk with Dillinger.”

“That’s good news, I’ll speak with Ami,” Stellan said and added another phone call to Sixx on his list of things to do that day.

“Let me know what he says, and I’ll chat with the Domme.”

“Right. I’ll do that,” Stellan agreed. “Do you have a few minutes to talk?”

“Shoot,” Aryas invited.