Page 113 of Poisoned Pawn
“It’s Fraser meeting Pavel not Rook. He’ll want you for himself, Carter,” Sloane tells me ignoring the glare Frankie is throwing her way.
“This is bullshit. I need to get in touch with Pavel.” I stalk from the room and call Pavel before I lose it and spill her blood.
“Carter. Now you wish to talk,” he answers sarcastically.
“I don’t have time for your games, Pavel. Tell me about the meet. And don’t think of screwing with me,” I threaten.
As Pavel fills me in on the meet with the buyer, who we now know is Rook posing as Gage Corbin, voices in the other room grow louder and louder.
“It’s a fucking trap, Pavel. You’ve been played. Gage Corbin is Rook, and he and Fraser have been buying up property in your territory while taking you out with ghost guns Lev and Perry Graham have been dealing right under your fucking nose.”
Once Pavel stops cursing down the phone at me in a mix of Russian and English, I tell him what I want him to do. I don’t mention Sloane, or the fact Rook has Star because even though he’s been betrayed just as I have, I don’t trust him.
While I don’t trust Sloane completely either, I believe her when she said Rook will want me for himself. He’ll want to make me suffer.
I ignore the voice in my head that whispers how he’ll want to make Star suffer too. I can’t afford to let my thoughts run free.
Stepping back into the room, Lennox and Frankie are face to face and throwing insults at one another as Sloane tries to wedge herself in between the pair of them and prevent them from killing each other.
“Shut the fuck up. We don’t have time for this.” They both fall silent, Sloane pushing Frankie away. “Lennox, where’s Shane?”
Lennox drags his eyes away from Frankie and turns to me. “Still in the basement.”
“He give you anything?”
“Did he fuck! But I have his phone.” He pulls a phone from his pocket, checking it’s the right one, then hands it over to me.
I open it and look at his recent messages. The last one he received was from a number with no name attached and telling him to get it done.
Guessing that’s from Rook ordering him to take out Lennox, I type out a reply.
It’s done.
The three little dots appear indicating they are typing.
Good. Now make sure Carter knows where to be tonight.
I respond with a copy of an earlier response.
Okay, boss.
Then I scroll up through the messages looking for a clue as to where Rook wants me. I find it a minute later and shake my head.
“Shane still breathing?” I ask Lennox, pocketing the phone.
“Barely. Why?”
“Doesn’t matter. I need you to take some Shadows, trustworthy ones, over to the warehouse. Set up out of sight and take those fuckers down when they arrive. All of them!” I say, my tone icy and full of fucking fire.
“When you say all of them, you don’t mean—”
I cut Lennox off. “Oh, I do. In the boot of my car are some grenades, and I already know you have some C4. Blow the fucking place. As far as Rook and Fraser know, Shane and his mate took you out, so this will be a nice little surprise for them. Pavel? I don’t give a fuck if he gets hit in the crossfire. It’s open fucking season.”
“Carter, you know that’s not how I operate,” Lennox says carefully.
“No, but it is how I operate when they take what’s fucking mine. I’m not telling you to put a bullet in his head that’s your arena”—I raise my brows making sure he doesn’t miss my dig—“but if he ends up dead, I won’t lose any sleep over it.”
Lennox hangs his head, scrubbing a hand over his chin. My phone rings in my pocket as Sloane places a gentle hand on Lennox’s arm and whispers something to him. I turn away as I answer, spotting Frankie glaring at the two of them as he leans against the counter with his arms folded and nostrils flaring.