Oran
“What did you find out?” Holding my secondary phone to my ear with my shoulder, I spoke distractedly as I typed a quick message to May. Sliding the smartphone into my inner jacket pocket, I turned my full attention to Candice as an ominous silence hung over the line. “Well?”
“I don’t know if this constitutes as subterfuge, Oran, but I just got done going through everything Carlyle’s guy sent me, and . . . ” She trailed off, her accent thickening when she continued in a lower tone, and I pushed open the door to the coffee shop with a frown plastered on my face. “I think the whole point of those so-called ‘failed’ attempts was to split the three of you up.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Standing at the back of a surprisingly long line— or maybe not so surprising considering the fact it was Monday— I rubbed my jaw as I squinted to see the tiny letters on the boards hanging overhead. “What do you have to support that?”
“It means exactly what it says, Oran. I think it’s a shoddy attempt to divide and conquer. Those Italians are either purposefully blatant or laughably incompetent. I’m not sure which, yet. Also, I don’t get why they’re trying to take down the Syndicate this way, either. My best guess is they want to take you and Mateo out, and then the old man and Carlyle, most likely in that order. Even that makes very little sense because that’s a lot of targets to take down in a relatively short amount of time to actually have a chance. You’d think they’d be smarter than what this suggests.” Candice sighed in irritation and I rubbed my jaw as that same sensation seared my veins. “You haven’t talked to Carlyle, Mateo’s basically out for the count, and the old man is, well, he’s old. It’s the only plausible explanation I can come up with.”
“Work on it and get back to me when you have more thanplausibletheories.” Hanging up on Candice, frustration flooded my lungs instead of air, and I exhaled a hard sigh while my mind whirred. It was no secret that Diamon was a damn idiot— he was far too susceptible to bad ideas if they were sold well. The kid was definitivelynothis father, and that senile old bastard had done well in his time. The Italian Mafia was old, well rooted, and Diamon was trying too hard, too desperately, to make his mark on it.
I didn’t know why Carlyle didn’t just let them all destroy themselves, frankly.
The Syndicate was much cleaner, much more efficient. It embraced the pyramid and the individuals who filled that pyramid.Maybe that’s why Diamon was trying so hard to take us down.He obviously entertained any idea, no matter how stupid or unworkable. The way things used to be wouldn’t work anymore— not in this age of technology and feigned security. Buying off cops and politicians just didn’t work anymore, especially because money was so easy to track. And terror, just plain terror, was the worst idea imaginable.
The traditionalists— the Italians and the Russians, even the lesser known pillars like the Albanians and Irish— they couldn’t adapt fast enough.
Which was why my father was able to create such a global phenomenon so fast, to build the foundation so strongly. He didn’t put too much emphasis on race or develop an ‘us-versus-them’ mentality that got in the way of the ultimate goals.
Power and money.
My phonepinged for attention and I shook my head as I shuffled forward a few steps. This was an issue I could trust Candice to figure out— she was good at the big picture. Much better than I was, at least.
May: I had a lot of fun the other night if you want to get together I’m down
“She really uses no punctuation with texts, but at least she doesn’t use shorthand.” Mumbling to myself, I held off texting May to turn my attention to the coffee menu, and a frown twisted my mouth. “I’ll just get it black and fix it myself.”
My eyes were worse than usual this morning, or my glasses were bent or warped in some way. Pulling the frames from my ears, I rolled my jaw as my gaze became blurred and featureless.
“Oran.” Glancing up at the call, I squinted before putting my glasses back on, and May’s brows furrowed above her worried expression. “Did you break your glasses?”
“I think they might’ve gotten warped. I have another pair at work, though. My eyesight is usually worse in the morning. Honestly, I really have no idea.” I could only shrug at my own confusion and May gave a soft ‘ah’ as she sidled up beside me. “What about you? Isn’t your office on the other side of downtown?”
“Yeah. I just wanted to see you.” A tickle ofsomethingwiggled in my chest at her sheepish confession, and May tinged pink up to her ears. “Um, so, you remember how you asked me about that leisure ship?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Well, I’ve been working on a blueprint in my spare time and theorizing how it can all work to fit today’s safety standards while maintaining that historical aesthetic, and I’m pretty sure I figured it out. Part of it, at least.” Pleasant surprise rose my brows and I gestured her to continue as we shuffled toward the counter. “The thing I considered most was passing inspections, but you can’t just outfit a wooden ship with modern amenities— they’re too heavy, and it’s unsafe. So, I thought vinyl.”
“Vinyl . . . like the flooring?” She nodded firmly and I cupped my chin to tap my cheek absently as I turned over that notion. “It’s certainly not the first thing that comes to mind, outfitting a ship with vinyl instead of using real wood.”
“But that’s the great thing about it— you want an aesthetically pleasing and historically accurate ship that will sail the shallows. It’s not supposed to be a monument to the original— it just has to look it. Assuming you’ll have the main deck and A deck available to whoever rents out the ship, there’s no reason for them to go lower than the gun, so everything in the orlop can be modern.” My blank look must’ve been more than enough of an indication that the technical terms were beyond me, and May smirked a little as she nudged me with her elbow. “You put ‘Authorized Access Only’ signs where there’s no vinyl.”
“Ah, you could’ve just said that.” Smiling when she laughed, I gestured May in front of me when the line trudged forward. “So, are you available to show me what you have so far?”
“Yeah. Because of how I got onto the team, they basically don’t let me do anything. I can’t staple two pages together without getting looks. Did you want to do that right now, this morning?”
“I’d like to. I have an appointment at eleven a.m., I believe.” Leaning down, a twinge of embarrassment struck my chest, and I pursed my lips thinly. “Would you mind telling me what the sugar measurement is? Five was too many.”
“Five is definitely too many. Do you usually get coffee here?” Shaking my head, I pressed my palm against the small of her back, but her soft, dark green dress couldn’t hide how she tensed. “How do you like it?”
“However you like to give it.” Chuffing a laugh when she huffed at my taunt, I straightened as those flashing, multi-colored eyes met mine. May turned to the counter and I kept my mouth shut as she ordered for me . . . with three sugars. Pulling my wallet out as she followed up with her own order, I waited for the barista to ring her out before grabbing her attention again. “So, do you think this project is feasible? I know there’s probably not a huge market for it, but like I said before, I think it’s a cool idea.”
“I think it’s a money pit, but it’s definitely possible. If I had to put a price tag on something like that, it’d be $2-4 million, depending on the size of the ship. Obviously, you have a lot of resources available, so it would probably be less. Still, my guestimate is entirely based on the research of materials, the engine, the median optional aesthetic outfits, and stuff like that.”I could listen to her talk all fucking day.The thought hit me hard, and I nodded when May stopped speaking to run a hand up under her loose bun. “If I had exact information, it’d be way more accurate, that goes without saying.”
“Show me what you’ve got and I’ll get you some exact information.” The offer earned me a funny look, and I pursed my lips as I scanned her up and down shrewdly. “How’s your sister? You kinda shoved me out the door the other night when she texted you.”
“Well, she didn’t text me when she left the library. She texted me when she was four blocks away. Sarah’s okay, excited about her birthday in two weeks. I haven’t decided what to do yet.” Our cups landed on the pick-up counter, and I took mine as May gave a little shrug before grabbing hers. “Can’t really tell her ‘no’ when I don’t even know if it’ll be a ‘no’.”
“I see. Is your concern about her condition or are you just nervous about the fact that where she wants to go is three thousand miles away?” Walking toward the exit, I took a sip of my brew, and, burning tongue aside, it was exactly the way I wanted it. Holding open the door for May, I gave her that moment to think before we emerged onto the sidewalk. The air was crisp and salty, the ocean less than two miles away, and she frowned under furrowed brows when I glanced down.
“It’s definitely how far away it is.” My mind churned at that, but was it even my place to try to come up with a solution? “I don’t know. I’m sure I can figure something out.”
No, it’s not really my place.
