Page 51 of Last Hand

For a moment, there’s only the sound of the fire crackling through the night and Mikhail’s men move to the cars and climb in along with Dante.

I lift the radio again. “It’s done.”

Mikhail’s voice returns, warm with approval.

“Very good, Leone. You are a man who understands the value of life over money. This is rare quality.”

“Fallon,” I press. “Where is she?”

“Your brother attempted to make arrangements with me behind your back,” Mikhail explains through the radio. “He offered to eliminate you in exchange for your territory. Very ambitious, your brother.”

One of the SUVS stop and I glance in their direction. The rear car door swings violently open, and someone is tossed out. He hits the pavement hard.

“But I prefer to deal with the devil I know than the devil I do not,” Mikhail continues. “Consider this proof of my good faith.”

The radio goes silent with finality that tells me Mikhail is gone.

I signal to Vince and two others. They approach the fallen figure cautiously, weapons raised. After a moment, Vince gives me the all-clear sign—the man is alive.

I stroll toward them and it doesn’t take me long to recognize my brother, who’s now being held up by Rodriguez and another of my men. Blood trickles from his mouth, and one eye is swollen shut. He tries to stand taller as I approach, defiant even now.

“You stupid fuck,” I say, almost gently. “I guess you were right, Mikhail doesn’t intend to kill you, he’s going to let me do it,” I snarl before knocking him out with one punch.

“I want him in my basement. I’ll deal with him once I get my wife back.” Turning, Milo is glaring at him like he wants to finish him off now. I clamp a hand on his shoulder.

“Fallon first, he won’t be dying quickly.”

I nod to my men. They drag Dante across the concrete toward my car. He comes to and struggles weakly. It’s pointless. The fight has been beaten out of him, for now.

I pop the trunk with my key fob. It opens with a soft click that seems to finally penetrate Dante’s arrogance. His eyes widen with genuine fear.

“Leone, wait—” he starts.

I cut him off with another blow, this one to the temple. He goes limp in my men’s arms. They fold him into the trunk like dirty laundry, his long limbs awkwardly arranged in the confined space.

“Make sure he can breathe,” I instruct. “I want him alive for what comes next.”

I slam the trunk shut, sealing my brother in darkness and climb into the car where Milo is. Vince jumps in to drive, and I peer over at Milo who has been unusually quiet for the last few days, making me wonder where his head is at. It’s like he’s on autopilot.

Our convoy pulls away from the docks, three SUVs in tight formation. The burning truck recedes in my rearview mirror, orange flames painting the night sky. My mind is already racing ahead, calculating angles, weighing options. The pieces on the board have shifted. Mikhail thinks he’s three moves ahead, he’s never been good at seeing the whole game.

My phone vibrates. The screen shows Santos’s name.

I press accept. “Talk to me.”

“Leone.” Santos’s voice is tight, controlled. The sound of casino ambience hums in the background—the soft shuffle of cards, the murmur of gamblers losing money they don’t have. “Is he handing over Fallon. I’m checking in to ensure everything is still okay.”

“Depends on your definition of okay.” I gesture for Vince to take a different route, away from main roads. The last thing we need is a routine traffic stop or to pass police who no doubt would be alerted to the fire by now, especially with my psychotic brother in the trunk.

I glance at the time. Almost 2:00 AM. “Mikhail will expect retaliation from you. He’s counting on it. Wants us fighting each other while he takes over both territories.”

“And you think I don’t see that?” Santos’s pride is wounded. “I’ve been in this game longer than you’ve been alive, Presutti.”

“Then you know what comes next. You need to hit one of my places. Make it look believable.”

A sigh filters through the connection. “Suggestions because I am not going to hit randomly, we’ve come this far.”

“If you don’t retaliate with something of value, he’ll know we played him.”

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