Bastian's Storm (Surviving Raine 2)

“What if I win?”

“What if?” Landon echoed. There was a challenge in his voice.

“When I win,” I corrected, “what does Franks get out of it?”

“He’ll get oversight of all the caviar business in Seattle, New York, LA, and Chicago,” Landon said. “The feuding between the Italians stops, which is good for business in general, and the Russians get their asses out of Chicago altogether and act as Franks’ supplier overseas.”

As I processed this information, my mind cleared a little. Though we hadn’t had such a conversation in many years, it was familiar territory.

“Who’s in from New York and LA?”

“Grant Chambers,” he said. “He’s big in the arms trade in New York. There’s also Maria Hill in LA, who’s been having problems with the heroin business since the war broke out.”

“Don’t know her,” I said. “I remember Chambers.”

“She’s not been involved in the tournaments before,” Landon confirmed, “but she’s pissed off enough at Greco and Moretti to get involved. Most of her business has been with Latin America—coke and the like. She also hates the Russians and wants them out of the picture.”

“So three from Chicago, one from LA, one from New York, and me. Six players.”

“Small game,” Landon said with a nod. “And only one who is of any concern.”

“Who is that?”

“Moretti’s man,” Landon said. “I’ll let you do your own research, and you can tell me what you think.”

“You are assuming I’m going to agree to this,” I said. Even as I gave voice to my observation, I knew he wouldn’t be here if there was any choice involved.

“You are.”

There was one question I couldn’t stop myself from asking.

“What if I refuse?”

“Well, who knows what will happen to the kid?” Landon asked with a slight shrug. “He’s technically Franks’ nephew or whatever, so he could end up living with him. Then again, maybe Franks doesn’t want a kid. Maybe he’ll get rid of him, foster care or whatever.”

I swallowed hard as the muscles in my arms tightened.

Not my kid. No fucking way will that happen to my kid.

“I know for a fact that he’d get rid of you and your little piece of Ohio-born tail.”

I knew the threat was coming; I didn’t really have to ask. Hearing it still sent my mind spinning. Most of me didn’t care if Franks decided to have me killed, and Landon knew that. Threatening Raine, though—that was a whole other thing. Threatening a child I didn’t even know shouldn’t have mattered to me, but it did.

A lot.

I guess I wasn’t a heartless bastard after all.

The server dropped off the bill when Landon indicated we didn’t want to entertain the idea of dessert. I hadn’t managed to eat my meal, anyway. Landon leaned back in his chair, handed a stack of cash to the server, and looked across the table at me.

“Well?” he said simply.

“You say that like I’m being given some kind of choice,” I spat back at him.

“You aren’t,” Landon acknowledged, “but I like to give you the illusion.”

“Thanks a lot,” I mumbled with a low growl.

“You have every reason to win,” he said. “You’ll get the kid you wanted, and you’ll have the girl. I’ll also make sure you’re never asked to do anything like this again. I’ll get you set up far away—some place all of you can live and be happy together. You’ll have everything you ever wanted, and no more fighting, but you have to do this one last time.”