I lean back in my chair, waiting on Michael to show up. I told him five minutes, and it’s been at least that. I take a deep breath and force myself to chill the fuck out. We don’t have Church for another hour, so he’s got time. The club’s in a weird position with Michael. He’s not our prisoner, but he’s not exactly an ally yet either. And despite his age, he’s not some punk kid I can lay into whenever I want. If the shit Michael and Scavo have been shoveling to each other is real, then Ruby’s boy is making a bid to take over the Mancuso family. The boy taking over and doing all the shit he’s said he wants to do is good for the club, not just Fort Bragg but nationally. We’d be allied with not only Mancuso, but his allies as well, and that can only mean less violence, more peace, and less loss on both ends. This beef between Forsaken and Mancuso has casualties on both coasts.
“Hey,” Michael says. His voice is so relaxed and casual that it grates on my nerves. I’ve got enough shit going on right now. Particularly Amber and Zander and figuring out what I’m going to do there. It’s only been a few days, but I’m itching to head out to Thumper’s and meet my boy. I know I should wait for Amber’s okay on that, but she hasn’t reached out.
“Where’s Scavo?” I open my eyes and eye Michael standing there in a suit. He pulls on the cuffs of his jacket and rolls his shoulders in an uncomfortable fashion. The kid looks like he’s about to break out in hives in the damn thing. Not a moment after I’ve asked does Leo Scavo walk up behind Michael and invite himself into the chapel, closing the doors behind him. I’m pissed at the world right now, so I check my temper with these guys before it blows what could be a very lucrative and beneficial arrangement for both of our organizations. Scavo sits down in Duke’s seat, and Michael takes Grady’s.
“Nice monkey suit,” I say and give the kid a firm nod. He’s still squirming in his seat like a madman.
“Part of the whole being boss schtick, I guess,” he says.
Leo nods and follows up with, “If you want to be a thug, you can walk around the city with your pants around your knees. If you want to be a businessman, you wear a suit. And stop fucking squirming.”
Holding back a grin, I decide to just get on with it already.
“Forsaken likes to keep club business within the club, but I need to run something by you since it affects Mancuso.”
“Okay, shoot,” Michael says. His eyes go wide with alarm and he gulps. “But not literally, dude. Just, you know, figuratively.”
Leo shakes his head and eyes the table. He’s probably thinking the same thing I am—that Michael’s going to have to get it together if he wants to take over the family. Nobody’s going to take a bumbling kid who’s about to crawl out of his suit seriously.
“You guys want Junior to take over, but how’s that look if Carlo and Emilio are still around?”
“I was hoping your club would take care of that,” Michael says. “We’re prepared to lie low until the time is right if you guys don’t tie up those loose ends. Way we see it, their debt is to Forsaken.”
My hair falls in my face when I nod. It’s been getting everywhere lately. I don’t know how the fuck it got to be so long, but it’s basically shoulder-length now.
“You guys are going to need allies once Forsaken takes out the current regime, and I think I know how we can make that happen.” The pair of them sit and listen as I talk through my plan. The club has connections in San Francisco that have ties to New York, and last but not least is Segreti. Until recently, the Segreti family had always cooperated with the club and vice versa. But this shit with the botched hit at The 101 Club and the attack on Mindy is something else entirely. I don’t trust most of Segreti’s organization, but I recognize the awkward position #boss# is in. His men went rogue, and now he’s having to deal with it. Not easy, though. Outlaws don’t apologize, and they don’t show weakness, so I don’t know what the fuck we’re expecting from the man. Shit. We might have to cap him after all. I shake my head in dismay. I really do hate having to bury bodies if it can be avoided.
I run through everything from my plan to make Segreti Mancuso’s bitch down to how Petrov and those crazy Russian fucks can make shit easier for all of us on both coasts with little commentary from either Leo or Michael. It feels victorious. I’ve spent months thinking about this shit—how to end the violence, take Carlo Mancuso out of commission once and for all, and what we can do to make sure our shit is safe from here on out. There’s only one way I’ve been able to work it that doesn’t end in losing half my charter, and that’s by taking the fight back to New York.