“And you managed to persuade him without killing him?” I question. It’s a valid question, knowing Damian as I do.
He nods. “It took a lot of restraint with the sniveling weasel talking shit about our family.”
I merely lift a brow.
“He resisted. I delivered a few hard, well-targeted punches to his stomach, he bent over retching, and I gave him our terms. He accepted.”
I smirk. “I just bet he did. I’ve been on the receiving end of those fists. There’s no room for persuasion.”
“Absolutely none.”
“Good. It won’t last long, this truce if it can be called that,” I admit.
Damian nods. “I know. I’m on it.”
“Next time leave him… messier. He’ll need a reminder he won’t soon forget.”
“Messier meaning…?”
“No bullet holes.”
Damian frowns.
“Yet.”
He perks up.
“Third time, shoot but not to kill. Maim a bit.”
“Now you’re talking, Boss. I hate that little fucker. He’s … a weasel with no class. His jealousy of Ethan and Linc is pathetic. That’s where it all stems from,” Damian informs me.
“I figured. That, and he’s a bigot.”
Damian grunts, his hand forming a fist.
“You need an outlet for that rage?” I question.
“I could use one.”
“There’ve been some issues down at the docks in San Diego. I was going to put someone else on it, but if you want to take care of it, it’s yours,” I offer.
“What are we talking about here?” he asks.
I explain the hijacked shipments. He grunts.
“Sounds good.”
“Use your fists if you want, but if you use your gun, shoot to kill,” I order.
Damian nods. “Yes, Sir.”
“Take a couple men with you. This isn’t going to be a one-man hijacking.”
“I want to take Celeste, too. She’s been itching for a fight,” Damian tells me.
I nod. “Keep an eye on her. She gets caught up.”
“Will do.” Damian looks around some more. “I still don’t see anything.”
