“We need someone trusted inside Scotty’s territory,” Jack said. “Do we have anyone who can blend in and go unnoticed?”
Emory surveyed the circle, and each man shook his head, all but Pete.
“Zules, how do you feel about Northern California?” Pete asked but looked to Emory. “What do you think? It’s not uncommon for green soldiers to move crews. I’d be willing to loan him.”
Emory mulled it over. Trust broke down the ranks. If he couldn’t trust Scotty, then he couldn’t trust Scotty’s inner circle either. He needed an embed.
“If I send you to Redding post, can you be my eyes and ears?” Emory asked Zulu.
The kid nodded. “I’ll be there as soon as you need me.”
“Thank you. You came through tonight, and I owe you,” Emory told Zulu and then the broader room, “Same goes for the rest of you.”
Corey brushed aside the kudos and asked, “What about the white line operation? Do we bother with that now?”
Emory glanced at Liam. Still entranced by the flames, he rubbed his chin but offered no sage words. Emory already knew what he’d say.Keep your head.
“Yes,” Emory said. The men would want blood—and rightfully so—but they couldn’t lose sight of broader strategy. “We need to create stress fractures in the Velascos. We hit them where it hurts first—their longest-serving captain, their Gio. When morale’s low, we feed discontent in the lower ranks. We send the message none of this would’ve happened if it weren’t for Ivan. We never wanted this and have a common enemy. With any luck, they turn from the bottom up.”
“With no luck, we risk escalation,” Corey said.
“True,” Emory conceded, “but that’s always a risk, and we can’t roll over on what happened tonight. They’ll keep pushing boundaries if we do. We hit back hard and signal we’ll negotiate only if they give up Ivan.”
The men concurred with a round of nods. Emory ran his fingers through grimy hair crusted with sweat and dried blood.
“That’s all I have,” he said. “Stay safe. We’ll get through this.”
The last part tasted bitter rolling off his tongue.We’ll get through this.He’d said it as much for himself as the others, and when the men filed past him and said goodnight, he couldn’t rightly tell if they believed it either. For the time being, it’d do.
After Corey, Pete, and Zulu left, Emory sunk into the sofa and Jack into the winged-back chair. Liam remained at the fireplace where the flames popped and hissed. He’d been uncommonly quiet but turned to Emory and Jack.
“You boys came here as a precaution. This place isn’t a safe haven anymore. Bad things are bound to happen if you stay.”
Jack puffed an offended breath. “What are you saying?”
“That you and Emory need to leave.”
“I’m not running away scared?—”
“And I’m not asking!” Liam pounded the mantle. A porcelain vase, ancient and undoubtedly irreplaceable, wobbled close to the edge. Liam paid no attention to it and leveled furious eyes at Jack. “War is here. The armistice with the Velascos is over. It won’t be reinstated. Ivan will be back. These are certainties that promise bloodshed and death. You’re leaving, and I’m not negotiating terms.”
To Jack’s obvious dismay, Emory agreed. “He’s right. We’re sitting ducks if we stay here.”
“And what do you suggest?” Jack fired back.
Emory stood, knees popping and cheek smarting. Sooner or later, he wouldn’t be cut out for this shit anymore, and his body would fail long before his mind.
“I’ll head to California with Amelia,” Emory said but left out the rest. It’d be a one-way trip. “I’ll set up headquarters at my home there. It’s well enough off the grid, and the Velascos don’t have reach into that territory. If I can pull Ivan out of the woodwork, he’ll have less backing there than in Vegas. I’ll deal with Scotty. Pete will come with me and keep an eye on Zulu.”
“And Miri?” Jack asked with a hopeful ring that seemed to both thrill and sicken him. He never attached himself to one woman for long. To Jack, love was a liability.
“You and Miri will go back to Vegas. You’ll oversee Corey’stakeover. If Disco steps out of line, you do the needful. You and I will handle war plans. Pete and Corey will rally the rest of the captains. We need to mind the morale and make sure the men and their families are taken care of.”
Jack chuckled, pulled out a cigarette, and rolled the filter between his thumb and index finger. Emory studied him, the dirt caked beneath his fingernails and the childhood scar from a broken arm. Brave Jack, where did he go? The man in the chair had hair that hung in strings and hunched as if he were chilly. More likely, his vices had him in a stranglehold.
“If you can’t handle it, I’ll take Miri with me,” Emory said.
Jack’s eyes snapped to him. “When did I say I couldn’t handle it?”
