Page 2 of King of Ruin

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Page 2 of King of Ruin

“What did Jake say?” Mason asks, not commenting on Nia at all. He’s calculating the damage and how to spin this to our advantage, I know it.

“He said, ‘Give him hell, baby girl.’” I repeat. Jake was completely behind his woman. Then again, Jake has been hooked about as deeply as a man can be.

She’s not so vulnerable anymore. Jake has gone about eliminating her problems one body at a time.

Hence why I was on clean-up duty today.

“And Triston Smith? What was his response?”

“It seems like he’s going to make his brother pay whatever price Nia demands.”

“She’s a businesswoman underneath the bombshell exterior,” Mason murmurs. “She negotiated with me like a pro. And I am a man with a lot of experience when it comes to creating deals.”

“That is true.” I take another swallow, as I consider. Mason sounds like he’s going to support Nia too. Was he looking for anexcuse to back out of his deal with the Brits? Gris and Tris are new players in Vegas, having come from London to own a piece of the American dream.

“But honestly, Gris is the steal in the group. Not Triston. This could mean war.” I hear Mason scratch his chin. “Gris is a threat to us, I’ve always known it. We just can’t afford another enemy right now.”

The idea of another party to fight makes me tired.

“Shit. I’m getting a text from Jake now.” He pauses, likely reading the message.

“He says that Nia’s decided on her demand of the Smiths…. She wants to put our casino security man in charge of his casinos too. Eyes and ears right on every one of their floors.”

I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at it. Christ. It’s a brilliant plan. “Wow,” I mutter.

“I know. Turns out, our young little princess is making us stronger.”

“Remind me not to piss her off,” I respond, though I know I pissed her off already. She was our enemy’s daughter and I don’t do well with women who have a lot of baggage.

In my defense, my mother died when I was young. Just eleven. Car accident. If you can call being fall-down drunk and then driving an accident. My hand clenches around my phone as I bring my glass back to my lips.

I take another swallow of my second drink, knowing I ought to slow down. But the past few days have unsettled some careful balance I usually keep.

“Fuck,” Luke yells from the next room, loud enough that Mason hears him too.

“What’s happening?” Mason asks.

Instead of answering, I switch the phone to speaker and cross the conference room to the adjoining meeting room.

Luke is standing by the windows, his back stiff and straight, his jaw clenched in hard lines. “How much did you offer her?” he asks in clipped tones as he speaks into his phone.

My brow furrows as I cock my head and listen.

“And she didn’t take it?”

Mason is silent, surely listening too.

“Make her another offer, double it.” Luke’s hand slices through the air like he’d like to cut all this bullshit.

“Why wouldn’t she want that kind of money?” He looks back at me, his brow furrowed in an angry line as he listens to the speaker on the other end of the phone. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He spits.

“What’s wrong?” I finally ask, not that he answers.

“Tell me you’re researching her. Find a weakness, find a way to make sure she sells.” And then he hangs up.

I wait, not one to repeat myself as he drops his phone in his pocket and scrubs his face.

Letting out a long breath of air, he finally grunts. “Problem with the tunnel.”




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