I have to tell them.
I can’t keep this a secret anymore.
Chapter 9 - Josiah
I press the LCD on my dashboard to dial my brother, then wait while the ringtone plays through the speakers in my car as I drive through the city.
“Hello,” he says after a longer wait than usual.
“The West Coast Pakhans are in Chicago again and have requested a meeting,” I tell him.
“And you’re still worried about that attack on the practice operation you set up to prepare for their business?”
“Exactly. Did you find anything when you investigated? How is it going?”
“Not yet. I’m still working on it. I have a lot of eyes and ears on the ground trying to wangle information from all corners of the dark, dingy holes in this city.”
“The meeting is today. Now, actually. I really wanted to learn something,anything, before meeting with them,” I huff.
“I’m trying here, man. I promise you I’m working on it. As soon as I hear anything, I’ll message you.”
“Fine,” I sigh, accepting that it is what it is for now.
My brother says good luck before he says goodbye.
I don’t particularly believe in luck. Luck is a thing we trick ourselves with, so we have excuses for not putting in enough effort. People also dismiss your hard work when they tell you,"Oh, you’re so lucky."Luck has nothing to do with where I am today.
And when we don’t get something, we blame it on bad luck.No. It wasn’t bad luck. You just didn’t try hard enough. You didn’t fight for what you wanted.
Like you didn’t fight for her five years ago.
That’s not fair. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was keeping her safe.
Clenching my jaw, I rev the engine of my car and speed towards the meeting point.
I’m prepared for their questions. I’m sure they want reassurance, too.
But the bottom line is that they approached me, and that puts me at an advantage.
Walking into the restaurant that Ardalion chose, I look around the place and immediately take note of all exits, large windows, and which doors lead to the kitchen area or back of the restaurant. It’s a habit. A good habit. And it’s saved me on a number of occasions.
My personal guard parked outside the front of the restaurant and did not follow me in. I don’t want to insult the West Coast Alliance. The security isn’t to keep me safe from them, anyway. It’s a precaution after last week’s attack.
“Gentlemen,” I say, smiling as I walk towards the table. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” I add, noting that they are all here and have drinks already.
“No, not at all. We arrived early and ordered some beers. Can I order you one?” Nestor says, standing up to shake my hand.
“That sounds perfect. And the burgers here are amazing, from what I’ve heard,” I inform them.
“Great, burgers all round then, I’m starving,” Ardalion says, shaking my hand.
I greet each of them, then take a seat at the head of the table, which they have left open for me.
It’s a sign of respect that I take note of.
These are powerful men, especially united as they are. But this is my city, and even with their joint force of power, I’d still be stronger here than all five of them put together.
“We’ve been enjoying Chicago,” Nestor tells me as Benedikt returns from the bar to bring me a drink.
