“We negotiate for a truce.”
So we surrender.
“Tell me more and make sure it’s ironclad,” I growled.
I wasn’t above giving the appearance of surrendering. We weren’t going to win a normal battle, at least not at an acceptable cost. But just because I was more pragmatic than my father didn’t mean I totally disregarded the values he held.
“We have to send someone in who is willing and able to die, because the instant you start trying to so much as shake hands with King, you’ll have a dozen guards ready to kill you,” Cole said. “But it will open up the element of surprise.”
Though I listened to Cole, I also watched for the expressions of the other Black Reapers. Every single one said the same thing—“I don’t like it, but if this is what we have to do, so be it.”
The reason why seemed obvious enough—someone was probably going to have to die to make this work. At the absolute minimum, someone was going to have to risk being willing to die.
And as I looked around the room at all the men and what they had attached to them, the answer of “who” became obvious.
“We just need someone—”
“I’ll do it.”
I spoke without hesitation. And in a way, not only did my mindset help the confidence of my words, the confidence of my words helped my mindset. What did a woman matter if I was willing to die?
Then again, that Leigh still comes to mind…
“Everyone else in this room has a significant other, maybe even kids. I’m the only one unattached.”
“We could try for a club member or a different—”
I shook my head.
“We all know King will only speak to a high-ranking member of the Devil’s Patriots or even the Black Reapers. I know it’s risky and brutal, but I’m the only one who can die and not have it be too much of a drain on others.”
Except for Leigh. And I’d be giving that up.
Shut the hell up, Sonny.
“So I’ll do it.”
A tense silence fell over the room. Lane and Brock looked at Cole as if he were the one to ultimately give the OK on this. Spawn looked at me like I was crazy. I was, but it was the least crazy option.
“So be it,” Cole said, “but first, we need to make sure King is even in a position to accept this proposal. Can’t exactly go knocking on the front door.”
“And that is?”
“Well, as much as I just spoke about us not being in a position to fight forever, we do need, I think, to shock King into waking up a bit, no? Fuck him around a bit?”
I liked where this was going. Anything we could do to poke the bear without suffering unnecessary casualties was something I was all for.
“So are you proposing we send a message of sorts?” I said.
Cole nodded.
“King is more interested in games than violence at the end of the day, power more than conquest, but he’s not just going to roll over and give up on fighting. He needs to be goaded into us thinking we want to talk. And so I think the best way to do that is with a punch, followed by an ask for dialogue.”
“Make him think that we’re going to be more violent, then give him the chance to be diplomatic, only to then be violent in person?”
Cole again nodded.
“This sounds like a great plan, but we’re forgetting one thing,” Lane said. “There’s no fucking way King will ever allow himself to be in a position to be hurt. And while we could physically take him, it’s not like it’s us versus a ten-year-old kid. King has been in some fights of his own through the years. Don’t let the white suits fool you.”
