Page 4 of Under the Mistletoe

The air became thick with the weight of the decision in front of us. Prez remained silent. His gaze was calculating as he tapped his fingers lightly on the table's edge. His voice was low but commanding as he replied, “We know very well who Cardelli is and what he’s capable of, and he knows the same about us.”

“And this is just an opportunity.” Savage was Cotton’s son and the club’s new VP. He had a good head on his shoulders, so I trusted that he knew what he was talking about when he said, “It doesn’t mean we have to accept. But if we turn him away without hearing him out, we’ve put a target on our backs.”

“Exactly.” Prez sounded irritated as he continued, “We’ve met with Maltese before. He’s never crossed any lines, so we owe him the respect to at least hear him out.”

I could feel the tension in the room escalating, and I was over it. I wanted to know what we were getting into, so I leaned forward and asked, “What exactly is this ‘opportunity’ we’re talking about?”

Dad held my gaze for a long moment before answering. “Cardelli wants distribution. He’s looking for partners outside his own territory to expand into ours. Maltese is here to propose a partnership. We give him channels for his… products, and in return, we get a cut.A big one.”

Savage and Wrath shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Bones clenched his fists as he asked the question we were all thinking—"What’s he wanting us to distribute? Because if it has to do with any kind of trafficking, I’m out.”

“None of that.” Dad’s eyes darkened. “He claims it’s about rare goods—art, antiques, and shit like that. He wants to move them quietly.”

“Yeah, right.” Wrath grumbled under his breath. He was the club’s enforcer, and it was his job to be wary of anyone outside of the club. “Whatever’s in those crates, it’s worth enough for him to cross borders and risk meeting here. No way this shit isn’t dirty.”

“Which is why we decide together. Maltese arrives in an hour. We meet, we listen, and then we choose. But make no mistake—we make the choice. Not him.”

A subtle twitch of his jaw represented a warning that the discussion was over. We all exchanged looks, each of us weighing our concern, but we all remained silent.

An hour later, we were gathered in the bar when Rooster walked in with Maltese. Just like the times before, he was dressed in a jet-black business suit and exuded an aura ofconfidence as he scanned the room. He didn’t look the least bit rattled as he started walking over to us.

His back was straight, his chin was out, and his expression was blank as he came over to Prez and gave him a slight nod. “Maverick.”

“Maltese.”

“I appreciate you agreeing to meet with me.”

“Why don’t you tell us why you’re here.” Dad cocked his brow. “And don’t give us any bullshit about moving fucking antiques.”

“About that.” He crossed his arms.“There’s a bit more to it than that.”

Beck

“Hey, we’re here.”

“Are you excited?”

“Yeah, and a little nervous.”

With my phone still in hand, I glanced up at my rearview mirror, and my heart swelled at the sight of my precious daughter. Her reddish-blonde hair was pulled back and looked more like a bird’s nest than a ponytail, and her lips were bright red from the juice she drank at our last pitstop. Her wide, curious eyes were taking in everything around her.

My mother’s voice pulled me from my thoughts when she asked, “Nervous about what?”

“Ava... What if she doesn’t like it?”

“Ava is four. She’s going to love it because you love it.”

“I guess we will see soon enough.”

“You certainly will. Now, you two go on in and check things out. Your father and I’ll be over in a minute.”

“It’s just you guys, right? You’re not bringing anyone to help.”

“Nope. It’s just us.”

“Okay, good. I’ll see you in a few.”

I ended the call, then turned to Ava and asked, “You ready to go see our new house?”

---