“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Dorian’s shoulders hardened under his immaculate suit.
“People are choosing sides.”
“Well, that won’t fucking matter when I’m mayor of this city, they’ll all come crawling back. They’ll all come fucking–”
Mercedes sensed it was time to interrupt before Dorian ruined his own life and robbed her the pleasure of doing it. “Everything alright, honey?”
“It’s fine.” Dorian huffed, shrugging her hand off his shoulder.
“Keep your voice down in front of the press,” she said, a massive fake smile plastered on her face. Turning to T.B., Mercedes said, “What’s going on?”
“We’ve got men defecting to work for Vandemilio, dropping like flies,” T.B. said. She supposed that was one advantage, at least. Yani and Antonio used to hesitate every time they told her anything. T.B. just laid it all out on the line for her to see. He wasn’t too bright like that.
“That’s concerning,” she said.
“No! It’s just–” Dorian said, starting to pace manically again. “This is big boys’ business. Go and mingle with the wives or something.”
T.B.’s mouth became tight. Fighting a smile? Prick.
Mercedes shook her head, turning her back on them to walk away. “Keep it together, darling, you’re starting to sound like a fucking lunatic.”
She could almost feel their disgusted stares boring into her. Then, footsteps approached, and there was a tug at her elbow, pulling her back so hard that it left a jarring red handprint. “You don’t fucking talk to me like that.”
She ripped her elbow back, a show of power she hoped he wouldn’t notice. “Careful,honey,” she warned, glancing at the eyes backstage that now focused solely on them. “Or they might see you for who you really are.”
* * *
“We really going to just let this happen?” Carlos said, fidgeting with the straw in his drink.
“Don’t really have a choice,” Paul said.
Adam eyed his friends sitting around him in their regular booth. “It’s all part of the plan,” Adam said. “We get him when he least expects it.”
A tray of drinks appeared, their favorite bartender delivering shots. That’s what they’d need to get through the next few hours. It wasn’t usually table service, but this bartender was the only one game enough to approach them. And it was bad for business if they were at the bar scaring the shit out of people all the time.
“I think people are afraid of us,” Dan said, looking over Adam’s shoulder.
Turning over to stare at the patrons behind him, Adam shifted his gaze to the crowd and smiled as they immediately turned away. “Good.”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” Paul said. “Blake’s not dead yet.”
Adam swallowed a shot. How could he not let it go to his head? People were terrified of him. Yes, as they should be, but a great many more had defected to his side because they respected him.
“Results pending, five minutes.” That was the announcement made over the television.
Their chatter ceased, as if the words were a kick in the head that sent them back to reality. No matter how many people feared them or respected them or defected to work for them, they were not safe until Dorian Blake was rotting in the ground. And in four days’ time they’d either be the leaders of the largest gang in Ridge City. Or...or they’d be dead.
“Maybe he won’t win.” Carlos shrugged.
“He will fucking win, he’s rigged the ballots,” Dan said, shoving down another shot, arms braced over the table.
“We’ve still got four days,” Adam said, flipping his shot glass over in his fingers.
“To kill Dorian Blake? Or to live?” Dan said, as if he were reading Adam’s mind. They would only know which it was once it was done, when it was either his dead body or Blake’s lying on a slab in the morgue.
“We’re really pushing it, though, aren’t we?” Carlos said. “I mean—we’re right up against the wall now.”
“We can’t afford to fuck this up,” Dan said.
