Buttons and Blame (Buttons 5)

“Nothing else. That’s it.”

Just that afternoon, I’d spoken to my brother about escalating the business, but if these enemies were who I thought they were, the idea wouldn’t pan out. They were a formidable enemy. The only reason I knew that was because I used to be one of them.

The Skull Kings.

* * *

I wasn’t thrilled about seeing my brother twice in a single day—but I was having shitty luck. I arrived at his house and let myself inside. Lars flashed me a look of annoyance, not appreciating the way I barged inside like I lived there.

“Is the doorbell out of service, Mr. Barsetti?” Lars approached me in his tux, standing upright so rigidly his back was straighter than a board. A black bow tie was perfectly tied around his neck, contrasting against the pearl color of his collared shirt. I’d never seen Lars in regular clothes before. Did he sleep like that?

“No.”

“Then why didn’t you ring it?”

“Because I need to talk to my brother. It’s important.”

“Either way, we’d have to have this conversation, so it didn’t save you any time.” He approached the stairs. “I’ll let His Grace know you’re here. Would you like to wait in the dining room?”

Crow and I usually spoke in private in his office, so there was no point in getting comfortable. “I’ll wait here.”

“Very well.” Lars walked up to the third floor and was gone for nearly ten minutes before he returned.

I should have just called Crow. He probably wouldn’t have answered anyway. When he was home after five, I usually couldn’t get a hold of him. Now that I had a woman at home with me, I understood.

Lars returned. “He’ll meet you in his study. Can I prepare anything for you?”

“I’ll just have some scotch.” I headed up the stairs.

“Of course, Mr. Barsetti.”

I moved to the third floor and got comfortable in his office. Vanessa’s paintings were on the wall because Crow never moved them. He was proud of her artwork even when she was still alive. I stared at the buttons on the canvas for a long time, and I wondered if her artwork had anything to do with his wife’s affectionate nickname.

Crow joined me ten minutes later, when I was on my second drink. “What?”’

“Hi.”

He sat on the couch across from me, clearly pissed that I was bothering him in the evening when he was obviously in bed with his wife. His hair was messy, and not because he just got out of the shower. Pearl had been running her fingers through it no doubt. “What?” he repeated.

“Would I bother you at home unless it was important, asshole?”

Crow grabbed the decanter and poured himself a drink. “Then what’s so important, Cane? If it really were a potential disaster, you would just call me and spit everything out.”

“Not really something I want to say over the phone. Bran told me there’s been stuff going down in Rome.”

When Crow heard that, he straightened noticeably. “What stuff?”

“One of the men working for Bones took over the warehouses. He had all the weapons, so he was in the process of filling Bones’s shoes. But then some group cleaned them out in the middle of the night—slit all their throats.”

Crow was about to grab his drink but chose to steady his hand.

I could read his mind just by looking at him.

“The Skull Kings.”

I gave a slight nod. “I thought they stuck to Greece, but they’ve obviously expanded their borders.”

“Maybe the assassin business is taking a hit.”

“Probably because everyone buys all the protection they need from us—and Bones.”

“So they’re cutting out the middleman…”

“And taking on both roles—the supplier and the militia.”

Crow sat back against the cushions of the couch and widened his knees apart. His eyes moved to the fire as his mind was overrun with endless thoughts. “That’s not good, Cane.”

“No, it’s not.”

“This is exactly what I warned you about.”

“How was I supposed to know they would turn into our competitors?” I asked incredulously. “I haven’t heard from them in seven years.”

“Have you spoken to Constantine in that time?”

“Not once.” Constantine was the leader of the Skull Kings. A ruthless leader with a strong appetite, he killed men without mercy. He took his commission and did exactly as his client ordered. If he were told to torture a woman to death for cheating on her husband, he would do it in a heartbeat. Murder had no meaning when the right amount of money was thrown on the table.

“What do you think his attitude about us will be?”

“No idea. He may not see us as a threat.”

“But he might be ambitious—just like you.”

Constantine was a very ambitious man. He obviously moved into this sector because he saw an opportunity and decided to take it.

“If he turns on us, I’m walking away.”

“Like hell, you are,” I snapped. “We aren’t pussies.”