"Let me save us both some time." I place the coffee on the floor and rest my elbows on my knees. "I already know the Greeks have bought into Ranch 42. I know you've kept Carson's hands on payroll because not one of you knows how to run a cattle operation. You couldn't tell the difference between a heiferand a gate post. So you bought the land and kept the labor. Smart enough."
I’m half bluffing. We’re gonna find out exactly what’s happening behind the scenes.
"What I don't know," I continue, "is why. Ranch 42 is a shit spread on a good day. Bad land, worse management, and it's stuck between two properties owned by people who will burn you alive if you look at them sideways. You've already seen the evidence of that." I nod toward the door. "So why here? Why Arizona? Why wedge yourselves between the Sterlings and the Lawsons when there are a thousand easier places to set up?"
He stares at the floor. His jaw works. I can see him weighing it. What keeps him alive, what gets him killed. I’d guess this guy isn’t high-ranking in the Greek setup. Which is very good for us.
"Clock's ticking," I tell him. "And Brutus hasn't had breakfast. He’s going to be pissed as fuck."
That does it.
"There was a problem," he says. "In Los Angeles."
"What kind of problem?"
He swallows. "A man was killed. One of the Italians. High up. A brother of the Milano family."
My blood goes still. A brother. They have fucked up. Enzo doesn’t have a set-up in LA yet. Hence why we have this fuckin’ Greek issue.
But they have an enemy. Which could go one of two ways for us.
"Your people killed him," I say. Not a question.
He nods.
"And now the Italians want blood?"
Another nod.
"So you're running. You killed a Milano, and now you're hiding in Arizona because LA got too hot. Don’t you stay to fight wars on your territory?” I scoff.
And this is why they won’t last the year here in Arizona.
"Not hiding." He shakes his head. "Building. Nikos wants in. With yours. He wants protection. Partnership. Build a new army here, far from the Italians, and then take Los Angeles back."
I let that settle.
They want in with Enzo. They think they can buy their way into our network by setting up camp in our backyard, building an army on our doorstep, and using our infrastructure to launch a war against the Milanos.
Without asking.
Without permission.
Without understanding that the men who run this territory don't take meetings.
I thought they’d learn their lesson after trying to frame Hunter for murder and turning our own brother against us.
They know I murdered Beau. My own damn brother with my hands. And they still want to push us?
"Who's running the show at Ranch 42?" I ask. "Not your rotation. The man in charge."
He hesitates. "Stefanos. Niko's brother. He’s been working back home to build."
His face goes pale. Paler than it already was, because he’s realized he’s yapped too much to ever return to them.
"How many men, total?" I ask.
"More come and go. Trucks. At night. I don't know the full number. Maybe fifteen. Maybe twenty. They are building. Every week, more arrive."
