“Good. Now, you all know what to do, and remember that my daughter is not to be harmed. Bring her directly to Cinder.”
Aron turns on his heel and exits without giving our associates another glance.
Chapter 8
Aron
Well, for better or worse, it’s done.
“For better or worse.” Fuck. This is a shitty time to be thinking about my wedding vows.
Matt follows me out of the auditorium, and we head for his—our—office. Now that we’ve gotten the major drama out of the way, it’s time to deal with the daily Syndicate business.
I’m a bit rusty on our operations since being kidnapped by my father and temporarily joining then leading the Empire. Then again, I’ve never paid a lot of attention to that side of the Syndicate. That was always Matt’s job. I just stood off to the side, ready to take a bullet if need be.
Today’s agenda involves planning the next orchestrated strike against the Empire, setting up a buyer for some guns that need to move, and, unfortunately, informing the late guard Rico’s family of his loss.
That task should rest solely on my shoulders, as I’m the one who shot him, but Matt refuses to let me accept responsibility for the death. I suspect he blames himself; he’s the one who took Rico to a secluded hotel in the middle of nowhere for a quickfling. He had no way of knowing that I’d tracked him, though, nor that I would be waiting for them to exit the motel room.
He had no way of knowing the sight of him leaving a motel room with another man would incite a jealous rage inside me, despite us being broken up at the time.
After a somewhat heated argument that leaves our guards blushing with discomfort, we finally agree to let Yancy be the bearer of bad news. As Matt said, “Might as well delegate. Perk of being in charge.”
While Yancy is on that mission, we call in our treasurer, Marco, to discuss the state of Syndicate funds.
When my dad rebelled against Tito and the Royal Syndicate, he liquidated roughly half of the funds in various Syndicate accounts. Only Tito’s paranoia kept him from bankrupting the organization; with limited access to the accounts, Dad couldn’t steal everything. It took hard work on the part of our newly recruited twin hackers to recover most of the stolen money, and now we’re in the process of building on that and growing the Syndicate even more.
“So, Marco, how much of our weapons stock do we need to sell?”
Marco is old school, having learned from Tito himself, so he still manages our funds through paper ledgers. It’s dangerous if anyone from the authorities—or the Empire—gets ahold of them, but Marco also isn’t dumb. Everything’s written in an elaborate code, one that only Marco, Matt, and now I know.
That code helped save the Syndicate when Dad defected. Dad didn’t realize that Tito had hidden accounts and holdings because he couldn’t interpret Marco’s scribble.
He points at a page in his ledger. “If we move thirty percent of the weapons currently in warehouse thirteen, we can easily triple profits for the quarter, with plenty of firepower left over for dealing with Lucinda and the Empire.”
Marco’s lip curls up in disgust when he says Lucinda’s name. It’s clear he holds no allegiance to the woman despite serving her first husband for so many years.
“All right.” Matt signals Percy to come over. He scrawls a quick note on a piece of paper, then hands it to Percy. “Here. Pass this on to the officers in charge of the weapons inventory. Thirty percent liquidation. Sell them to anyone, so long as they have no contacts within the Empire. Make sure they understand to vet every single buyer. If a buyer has so much as had a one-night stand with an Empire whore, I want them shot with the very weapon they’re trying to purchase.”
“Wait.”
Marco looks at my hand on Percy’s arm with an incredulous glance. Matt just stares at us.
“Don Matteo,” I say, slipping into the formal address in the presence of others, “I’d like to give Percy some additional orders.” My eyes flicker to Marco and back. “In private.”
My request has nothing to do with any distrust towards Marco, but it could foster distrust inmeif anyone overheard. Best to minimize the number of prying eyes and ears by taking Percy to the side for this.
“Fine.” Matt’s expression reveals nothing; he simply nods. “We’ll reconvene later, then?”
“Of course.”
Percy and I stroll down the hall together in silence for a few minutes before I pull him into a vacant room.
Surprisingly, no one at the Syndicate really uses the indoor swimming pool here at the mansion. Then again, I suppose it would take a more careless organization to host lavish pool parties. Few in the Syndicate are young and stupid enough for that. Parties like that are for cocky morons, not elite officers, enforcers, and associates.
“Percy, listen. I have another task for you, but you need to keep it as secret as possible. Only tell the person I order you to. Can you do that for me?”
Percy nods.
