“In return,” Liberty said, “you keep Roman’s people on a leash. I’m not gonna have some eager Giorlando soldier stomping through my turf because he heard a rumor about this missing book. You want to tell him this exists, you do it in a room you control. Not in my streets.”
“That’s already on the docket,” Blackjack revealed. “I have a sit-down with Roman and Vladimir today. High floor at one of the casinos. Roman’s Penthouse. Neutral ground, allegedly. Mirage, Spade, Ace, and Snake Eyes are coming with me. Smaller footprint. Enough muscle to make a point.”
My heart rate picked up.
“You going to tell him everything?” Liberty asked.
“I’m going to tell him this,” Blackjack said. “Someone used his docks to move a package he didn’t authorize. That package got attacked by mercs. One of my men nearly died. The package is volatile as hell and ties his enemies together in ways we don’t fully understand just yet. And that unless he wants a waron three fronts, he needs to get his own house in order and help us figure out who the hell is moving product through his yards without his blessing.”
“And the book?” she asked.
“The existence of it, yes,” Blackjack said. “The details, not fully yet. Not until I know whether Vladimir is in this as a mark or a player. I’m not handing proof of the Vincinos’ plans to someone who might be the one writing them.”
Liberty considered that, and nodded. “Fine,” she said. “But you keep me in the loop. You learn something in that penthouse, I want to know it before your ass hits your bike seat again.”
“You will,” he said. “In fact…” He trailed off for a second, then firmed his tone. “8-Ball, Jersey.”
“Yeah,” we said together.
“If you don’t hear from me within an hour of the meeting start time,” he said, “you treat it like we didn’t walk out. Eight, you operate as acting President. Jersey, you lay out war plans. If none of us make it out, you’re VP. Not Spade or Miami. Understood?”
The room shrank.
“Come on,” I said automatically. My throat was dry. “That’s dramatic, even for you.”
“This isn’t dramatics Jersey,” he said. “This is contingency. If Roman or someone else decides I am more useful as a message than a partner, the club doesn’t get to stand around wringing hands. You fall in. You follow this plan we hammered out before I goin. You get that book and its tech under deeper cover. You tighten up ranks. You keep Quinn and the others breathing. You keep Miami alive for as long as his body will let him. I’ll need someone leading the war by Eight’s side. Miami’s out of commission. Spade will be with me at the meeting, so if I’m taken out, chances are he will be too.”
8-Ball’s jaw clenched. “I don’t like this,” he said.
“Neither do I,” Blackjack said. “But I like pretending we’re untouchable even less. This meeting could go smoothly. Roman could be as pissed as we are and be ready to burn whoever did this. Or he could already be compromised. Or Vladimir could be half a step from stabbing him in the back and this exposes it all. We don’t know. So, we plan for the worst and aim for the better.”
Liberty’s gaze flicked between the phone and me. I felt her recalculating. A man on the other end who might not walk out. Another who might have to step into shoes he wasn’t ready to fill, at least for a while.
“You sure about your boy?” she asked Blackjack. “VP is a heavy patch.”
“He’s been carrying it without the rocker for years,” Blackjack said. “No offense Eight. The only difference would be the ink. If I fall, Eight keeps the head. Jersey keeps the teeth. Together, they keep our family breathing long enough to either bury me right or burn the ones who did it.”
Heat crawled up my neck. Not pride. Not exactly. Something mixed with dread.Responsibility was heavier than any gun.
“You hear that, Jersey?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “I hear you.”
“Good,” he said.
“Besides. I don’t want to end up dying stupid in a Viper clubhouse over some argument about beards.”
Valkyrie coughed once. It might have been a laugh.
“We’ll keep you from dying stupid,” Liberty said. “I can’t promise I won’t be tempted to shoot you for being mouthy, though.”
“That’s half his charm,” Blackjack said. I could tell it was with a smirk. “Okay. Here’s the plan. I’ll text you when I arrive. If you don’t hear from me in an hour, you treat it as a loss. Until then, you three,” he meant me, 8-Ball, and Turnpike, “act like I’m walking out and we still have time to play with.”
“Copy,” 8-Ball said.
“Got it,” Turnpike said.
“Yes, Prez,” I acknowledged.
