“I’m aware of the loss. And I’m sorry about it. We’re still investigating who was responsible for it. And you know I’ll cover the cost.”
“I’m not here about who’s responsible. That’s your problem to solve. I’m here about restitution.” He smoothed his tie with one hand. “I don’t want cash.”
“What do you want?”
“A stake in the casino.”
I leaned back in my chair and looked at him for a second. Then I smiled. Not a friendly smile. The smile I gave people when they said something so bold it was almost impressive.
“You want a stake in my casino because your cocaine was stolen from my truck.”
“I want a fifteen percent ownership stake as restitution for losses incurred under your watch. Your facility, your security, your failure. My product was in your care and it was taken. I think equity in a new venture is a reasonable resolution.”
“Reasonable.” I nodded slowly like I was considering it. It wasn’t. “Mateo, let me ask you something. When you park your Lamborghini in a garage and somebody breaks in and steals it, do you ask the garage for fifteen percent of their building? Or do you file a claim and move on?”
“This isn’t a parking garage.”
“You’re right. It’s my family’s business. And the casino is my family’s future. And neither one of those things is for sale—not fifteen percent, not five percent, not half a percent. Not to you, not to anybody.”
The patience behind his eyes shifted into something colder. “Two point three million is a lot of money to dismiss, Quest.”
“Who’s dismissing it? I said I’ll make you whole. I’ll write you a check today. Cash. Full amount plus ten percent for the inconvenience. You’ll have the wire by end of business tomorrow. But you’re not getting a seat at my table because your shit was stolen. You knew that was a risk. That’s a risk with any product in transport. That’s not how this works.”
“This isn’t about money.”
“Then what’s it about?”
“Opportunity. I’ve been transporting through your network for five years. Paying premium rates. Never missed a payment.Never caused a problem. And in three years, I’ve never been offered a seat at the table. I’ve been a customer, not a partner. The casino is the perfect opportunity to change that.”
“You’re a supplier who uses our trucks. That makes you a client. And I don’t promote clients to partners because they had a bad quarter.” I stood up and buttoned my jacket because this conversation was over. “I respect you, Mateo. I respect your business. And I’m going to make you whole on every dollar you lost. But the casino has three names on it—mine, and my brothers. That’s how it started and that’s how it stays.”
Rios stood up slowly. He buttoned his own jacket, mirroring me, and the gesture felt less like courtesy and more like a man putting his armor back on.
“I think you’re making a mistake,” he said.
“Wouldn’t be my first one.”
“But it might be your most expensive one.” He held my gaze for a beat too long, then extended his hand again. I shook it. His grip was tighter this time. “So be it.”
He walked out of my office and closed the door behind him with a soft click that felt louder than a slam.
I stood at the window and looked out at the Anacostia and thought about the growing list of people who wanted something from me that I wasn’t willing to give. Rios wanted the casino. Kacey wanted the truth about Thad. Camille wanted a paternity test. Peanut wanted forgiveness. Lucian wanted blood. And Mehar—Mehar wanted something I wasn’t sure I knew how to give anymore. Something that required me to open a door I’d welded shut fourteen years ago, and trust that whoever walked through it wouldn’t burn the house down.
My phone buzzed. A text from Mehar.
Mehar:I slept better last night than I have in two years. Just thought you should know.
I read it three times. Put the phone down. Picked it back up.
Me:Same.
One word. But I meant it more than anything I’d said in a boardroom all day.
27
MEHAR
Janelle noticed before I even sat down.
