Marcus counted on his fingers each rapid-fire response and summoned the courage to look at Emory.
“Cal Havick hung his bid as a federal prosecutor on taking us down,” Emory said. “If he was gonna drop the hammer, he would’ve done it by now. Anything Amelia has learned here won’t help him.”
“You took his daughter from him,” Scotty said. “That all might be true for Cal Havick, federal prosecutor, but don’t underestimate him as a father.”
“We understand your point,” Liam said, “but his daughter would be dead many times over if it weren’t for us. That won’t be lost on him.”
“And Gio is dead because of her!” Eli, captain of Reno post, erupted. “I’m sorry, but you’re fucking naïve if you think otherwise.”
Across the table from Eli, Corey lurched from his seat. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to? Show somegoddamnrespect. I will bury you!”
Emory lifted an arm to stave off Corey and addressed Eli.
“You want someone to blame? Blame me. I brought her here. Question my decisions and take me to task. I don’t give a fuck, but don’t get it twisted. What happened to Gio isn’t on her.”
The table fell silent as contention grew. The seeds of doubt had already been sown, but what they’d reap, Emory couldn’t quite say. He eased back in his seat with one forearm resting on the table and the other in his lap.
“We’ll hold off on a counterstrike for now and use the white line first.”
The room stirred in a simultaneous shift. The blood thirsty wanted to strike swiftly and strategize later. The white line was the peacemaker, a line of communication between the Velascos and Moriartys. When fighting promised only mutual destruction, the white line rang and both parties brokered for peace.
“Diplomacy?” Scotty snickered.
Emory shook his head.
“Not diplomacy. An influence operation. I’ll make the call and get ahold of a Velasco captain hopped up on hope and belief that Ivan is the answer to what’s broken in that organization. They’ve bested us. Gio is dead. A few of our men turned rat. I’ll concede those victories.
“But here’s what else I’ll tell them. Ivan is more monster than man. He doesn’t hide it. He doesn’t know how. No one knows that better than I do. Soon, they’ll know it too. I’ll remind them that war is hell, and we never wanted this. War is death, and they’ll lose good men too. War is watching the people you love get torn apart, and their innocents aren’t safe either.
“This isn’t diplomacy. It’s planting the seed. When they’re battered and broken and barely holding on, when they see whoIvan truly is, when they want an off-ramp, the white line will ring, and we’ll be here to answer with our terms. If Ivan wants to hide in the shadows, then we shine the light. But first, we need to find him. That is the only thing that matters right now.”
At the far end of the table, Pete leaned forward to get Emory’s attention.
“One of my street soldiers, Zulu, can help with that. The kid is a genius. If anyone can track down Ivan, it’s him.”
Emory had heard Pete wax poetic about the kid before. He was up-and-coming and marked as one to watch. The men called him Zulu; short for Bravo Zulu, a job well done and a term of endearment because the kid kept his head down, wits about him, and came to the Moriartys a blank slate, all but his tech savvy. Pete had spotted his talent and recruited him as the go-to for technical exploitation.
“Good. Get him on it,” Emory said. “That’s all I have. Get home safe. Ears to the ground, I want any leads you find.”
The men disbanded, some with approving nods and others with under-the-breath commentary as they cleared the table. Marcus and Scotty left with Sal and two others. Pete, Corey, and the rest stayed a few steps behind the other faction. The division resembled a gaping chasm.
“Stay,” Emory commanded when Eli stood. “You too, Johnny.”
After the room emptied, Emory stared at Eli but didn’t speak. So brave earlier, Eli succumbed to the silence and slumped in his seat.
“Look, I meant no disrespect. It’s just…” He chewed his bottom lip and sighed. “We take care of our own, right? I have a hard time wrapping my head around that girl being one of our own now.”
That girl.It cameslathered in so much unfounded loathing.
“Her name is Amelia, and that’s not your concern,” Emory said, but the pressure in his chest rose, and his pulse flooded his ears. “We have street soldiers in this organization, some in your crew, who would do us dirty before she would. You fucking knowit too. Save me the bullshit about taking care of our own when you can’t seem to manage your own crew’s loyalty. If you ever do this shit again, I’ll bury you myself long before Corey gets out the shovel. Now go.”
Eli shot from his seat, all too eager to scamper off and tell the others, no doubt. Emory rested his elbows on the table and cradled his forehead in one palm.
“Johnny, you have a status update?” he asked.
Big Johnny, captain of Portland post, nodded and switched seats next to Jack. He more than earned his nickname, though “Gentle Giant” would’ve been just as apt. He stood as tall as Emory but possessed an affable and easygoing demeanor no one would ever attach to Emory.
He took out his phone and slid it across the table. “Cal was spotted in southern Oregon last week. One of my guys got these.”
