That should make things interesting. Not only is he giving the Smiths a more dangerous assignment, he’s also offering a higher payout in the end. I wonder if this is some ploy to get the new blood to compete against each other.
Lyta frowns. “Wait, does that mean if only one of us makes it out, we only get part of the money?”
“No. That means if only one of you makes it out, you not only get your thirty million but your dear, departed spouse’s ten million as well.”
Very cutthroat of him. Nice.
“That’s dumb. We get sixty million if we both make it out.”
“Then make sure you’re watching each other’s backs.” Matt shrugs. “I’d say forty million for one person is still better thansixty million split in two, but then again, Saint Mary’s didn’t focus much on math skills.”
Evan and Lyta hold hands and glare defiantly at Matt. “You’ll be shelling out sixty million, Don Matteo. We guarantee it.”
Thaddeus and Stephanie meet with Matt next, individually, and he offers them the same forty million payout for making it out alive. I have no idea what’s in the envelopes, but if I were to guess, I’d say Matt’s playing mind games with my dad. Probably cryptic messages or notes listing the price on Dad’s head. Something meant to unnerve him if he finds them when he wakes.
Next up are the freed hitmen. One by one, Matt offers each of them fifty million for my dad’s head on a silver platter. Not the highest of prices, but enough to motivate them.
I give them a thirty percent chance of survival. Their chances of success are much, much lower. Dad’s even more ruthless than Matt, and I doubt he’d succumb to any of these guys easily, if at all.
There’s one more parolee that Matt has yet to meet with in his office today. We break for lunch, and I ask Matt what’s on the docket for the afternoon.
As soon as the room clears, Matt gives the hand signal asking if we’re alone. I know he doesn’t mean physically alone; he wants to know if there’s anyone listening in. He knows I sweep for bugs on an hourly basis, as well as every time a new person enters or leaves the room. I’ve gotten quite adept at locating listening devices and destroying or removing them before the saboteur is even aware I’ve found them.
I wait a few seconds, listening for movement outside the door, before I signal the go-ahead.
“Good.” Matt stands and clasps his hands behind his back, taking a leisurely stance. “I wanted to talk to you. I’ve beenmeaning to tell you about this, but I just made the decision last night.
“I’m going to challenge Grady to a fight.”
Chapter 18
Matt
Aron is predictably upset.
“Look, Aron, before you freak the fuck out, you’ve got to understand that this is the only way to get everyone to respect me the same way they respected Dad.”
Despite his usual calm demeanor when he’s on the clock, Aron visibly shakes with his anger. “Matt, he’s twice your size and the deadliest of all your acquisitions. His death toll rivals that of a hurricane blowing through a major metropolitan area. I love you, but you can’t win against him.”
“Oh, ye of little faith,” I reply, hoping to take the edge off my words with a grin. “I have to do this. If I don’t confront him, and in front of the entire Syndicate, I’ll lose credibility. Dad ruled with an iron fist, not iron words. There’s a reason I’ve still got bruises from his beating.”
“And I’m forced to look at those bruises every night! You’re seriously going to beg Grady to give you more of them?”
“Aron—”
He doesn’t give me a chance to finish. “How much do you plan to blow on this fight? Are you going to pay Grady to beatyou to a pulp, or are you going to open a betting pool? What, hundred to one odds on you surviving? Thousand to one?”
“I’m not paying him one red cent, and I’ll forbid any betting.”
Aron puts his palms on the desk between us. “How will you goad him into fighting you, then? You’ve given all the other newbies a chance to make a quick buck with you. If he finds out you’re stiffing him, you’ll be deader than dead.”
I place my hands over Aron’s. “I won’t be stiffing him. Grady doesn’t care about money. That man took hits for the price of a pack of cigarettes. He’ll fight me for the challenge, if anything. The prestige of a chance to say he beat the son of Don Tito. You saw the look in his eyes when he mentioned Dad. That psycho had some kind of beef with him, I guarantee it. He’ll be chomping at the bit to fight me.”
Rather than be reassured by my speech, Aron seems to get even angrier. His tanned face turns red, and he rips his hands from beneath mine, crossing his arms over his chest. “And what are the terms of this prize fight, hm? When is it over? What determines who won?”
“Last man standing.”
Aron’s voice drops to a harsh whisper.
