Page 2 of Queen of Blades

“I could use a quiet evening.” Paul sighed.

Everyone had their role to play in order to make their syndicate work. Joseph and Michael called the shots. Eddie handled their prostitution ring out of a series of high-end strip clubs throughout the state. Sam schmoozed the politicians and union representatives and kept the police out of their business. Mickey expanded their little gambling den from the lone location beneath Laundry Land to seven all over Oklahoma.

Paul’s specialty didn’t bring in money like the others, which was why his presence at the meeting wasn’t as imperative. As their family “fixer,” he ensured everything went smoothly. When a problem arose, it was his responsibility to make it go away, and he had a network of men beneath him with the same goal—to ensure smooth sailing for the Dixie Mafia no matter what.

“Shall we discuss new business?” Dario wheezed as he tossed a few chips into the pot, then puffed on the fattest of cigars. It filled the windowless room with a spicy, earthy scent and a thin haze.

The men at the poker table glanced at one another. For once, Sebastián’s pearly whites weren’t on full display. Paul arched a brow, intrigued.

“As you know,” Sebastián began as he shuffled the deck of cards, “things are a little hot right now.”

Boris nodded as he tapped the top of his stack of chips. “The Texas border is hostile these days.”

Sebastián shook his head. “Not that.” His grin returned. “We can handle that. I meant the dustup with the bikers.” He lifted a hand as the surrounding group bristled. “Nothing serious. We have got it under control, but it has shone a spotlight on us for sure. We have to tread a bit more carefully than normal.”

A round of knowing nods ensued.

“Anyway,” Sebastián continued, “some out-of-state friends have asked for a favor. It seems a problem of theirs has found its way to Oklahoma.”

Paul stepped closer to the table. This washisarea of expertise, so it caught his attention.

“Normally, we would take care of it, but…” The Colombian’s voice trailed off.

“So, you’re looking to subcontract your contract?” Paul’s father asked as he tossed his cards away, folding.

Sheepishly, Sebastián shrugged and nodded. “Sí.”

“How much?” asked Niall.

“Thirty million,” Sebastián answered quickly.

Nowthatgot everyone’s attention.

Boris sucked air through his clenched teeth, making a hissing noise. “Meaning it’s personal?”

Paul inched closer to the table. “Or very public,” he murmured.

Dario turned his head, but not fully toward Paul. The room sat silent. The Italians didn’t micromanage things. Each syndicate handled internal matters without his say-so, but bringing out-of-state business to his territory required his permission.

Resting his cigar in the ashtray, he interlaced his fingers over the table and shifted his focus back to Sebastián, gesturing for him to continue.

“A lawyer from North Carolina.”

“What’s he doing here?” Haruto asked.

“Familia.” Sebastián turned the river cards. “Herdad is connected to one of those biker gangs.”

His nonchalant words got Paul’s attention. A lady lawyer, from out of state, with connections to a motorcycle club. That sounded familiar.

While he considered the families at the table disorganized, bikers were a whole nother breed. They were pure chaos—dangerous and unpredictable. Especially if they were the ones he knew. Tangling with one of their family would definitely start some shit. Considering the Colombians were already beefing with the bikers, taking this contract would only make matters worse. No one liked wars; even little skirmishes were bad for business. It was best to end them as quickly as possible.

“We’re out,” Haruto announced as he waved a hand. “I don’t mess with bikers.”

Sebastián nodded but surveyed the table. His gaze lingered on the Italian. It all came down to him. In order for anyone to take up the contract, Dario had to give the okay first. Without it, no one could move on it, no matter how hefty the reward, without feeling his wrath. No one wanted that.

Dario lifted his cigar again and eyed the burned end as though considering having to relight it. “Ten percent and I’ll allow it.”

“Of course.” Sebastián dipped his chin in deference. From his pocket, he pulled a newspaper clipping. Carefully, he unfolded it and laid it on the table for all to see.

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