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“Still though, your empire only seems to be expanding. How do you plan on juggling your entire operation alongside a career that keeps you front and center in the spotlight all year?” Yuri reaches over to the table beside him, snubbing the end of his cigar out in a small ashtray.
I don’t know what he’s getting at, but considering I’m still on his turf and outnumbered, I continue to entertain him.
“It’s not as big a commitment as you think. It really only takes up two days a week, and it’s only eight months out of the year. My second-in-command is more than competent at running the day to day in my absence.”
“Hmph.” Yuri stares at me, his lips pursed as though he’s deep in thought. “I’m sorry, Daniel, but that’s not going to work for me.”
My head tilts to the side in question. Before I’m able to ask what he means, Yuri’s withdrawn his weapon and discharged it into my left thigh. I drop, clutching the wound as I writhe before him on the ground.
“Fuck!” I shout, glancing over to find Rico and JP pinned to the concrete with guns pressed to their skulls.
Rico’s eyes lock with mine, homicidal with rage. They flicker down to where I’m clutching my leg, his jaw tightening as his gaze snaps back to mine. With a slight shake of my head, I issue a silent command to stand down. I need him to keep his shit in check. That man would die for me, and while I appreciate the dedication, I am determined to walk out of here today with the same number of brothers I walked in with.
“Here’s the deal, Daniel. Your little motocross career is over, effective immediately. I was promised an exclusivity contract with you, and I intend to collect. I’ve got big plans for our partnership. Plans that will require you to be fully present instead of traipsing across the country all year long.”
I clutch my leg tighter, hissing in pain as I attempt to slow the bleeding. “With all due respect, sir, it was my understanding there was supposed to be an exchange of services as a condition of this arrangement. A condition that was never met, if I’m not mistaken. I’d say that makes this deal null and void if you ask me.”
“Ah, yes. Maverick Bishop. I have no issue rectifying that oversight if it is a point of contention for you.”
The deal Tommy struck with this unstable piece of shit was pretty straightforward. Yuri would become the distributor for my entire drug business in exchange for assassinating Mav. However, things didn’t go according to plan. Mav managed to escape unscathed, though his second-in-command was not as fortunate.
Bishop’s craving blood. I suddenly realize it’s a hunger I may need to fuel.
“Daniel,” Yuri speaks again, this time his tone more impatient. “Maverick Bishop. Yes or no? Choose.”
My eyes narrow upon him, my jaw tightening in anger. “No,” I bite out.
“Very well.” Yuri stands to his full height, handing the gun off to one of his associates. “Now, let’s discuss terms.”
I sit for the next twenty minutes, bleeding out as I’m forced to listen to Yuri’s demands. He drones on, stopping occasionally to ask me questions about my operation, which I reluctantly answer, though my mind can’t help but wander to the one person I’m gonna need to help me out of this mess.
I really hope that fucker didn’t swallow a bullet after I left.
CHAPTER 25
NOW
NICKY
The line outside Torque is around the block, which isn’t surprising even for a Thursday. The nightlife scene in Queen City hosts some of the best clubs outside of NYC and is controlled predominantly by none other than Maverick Bishop.
I must admit, you gotta admire what he’s built in spite of everything. While he’s forced to launder money for Yuri through two of his clubs, the other five are legitimate businesses—Torque being one of them.
Which makes what I’m about to do even more offensive.
I’m not exactly flying below the radar tonight. JP parked his Ferrari like an asshole again in the driveway, and in the midst of my still-heightened irritation, I opted not to wait for him to come move it. This is how I came to be driving his red F8 Tributo, which I am currently handing off to the wide-eyed valet outside the club.
It is a beautiful car. Though, to be fair, I’m not sure if his shocked expression is in awe of the luxury ride or fear of me. Considering the baseball bat I’m currently sporting at my side, there’s a good chance it’s the latter.
“Here.” I peel a hundred-dollar bill off my money clip and hand it to him before returning the bank roll to my pocket. “Keep it close for me. I won’t be long.”
“Y-yes, sir,” he stutters, slipping past me and sliding into the car.
Bypassing the line, I approach the door to find Mav’s head of security, Logan. My presence garners his full attention, though his neutral expression shows no hint of alarm.
“Mr. Conners,” he addresses me, ever the epitome of professional and polite.
“Logan.” I tip my head to him in greeting, coming to stop in front of him on the opposite side of the velvet ropes.
