Page 70 of Blackbeard
“You can’t be serious. Dad—”
“I know, I know. It’s fast. But I spoke to Kingpin. He took the bait, though I can’t say he did it willingly. Granted, fifty grand per man is hard to pass up. So, the Makarovs are in play now.”
“Holy shit,” I breathed, my mind spinning with that implication.
The Makarovs were supposed to be the final nail in the coffin—something that we gradually built up to, piece by piece, so the Blackjacks wouldn’t question it. We were skipping over months of preparation and jumping straight to the big bang. If anything went wrong, we could find ourselves caught up in the explosion.
“Blackjacks won’t see a single fucking penny of that payment, of course,” Dad went on. “Do you remember why?”
I nodded, falling into step with him now. This part of the plan should have stayed the same. I could recite it from memory without hesitation.
“Once the shipment is fully in transport, I tip off the cops and spring the trap. You and your boys hightail it out of there, leaving the Blackjacks holding the bag, caught red-handed. I open fire on the cops from a distance, giving you time to grab the shipment of guns and we deliver them, saving the day for the Makarovs.”
My knees felt weak and I leaned back against the alley wall for support. Why was I suddenly queasy over this? It never unsettled me before. I knew what I was getting into, right from the start. I couldn’t chicken out at the eleventh hour.
“Exactly,” Dad said. “The Blackjacks are put behind bars. We take their territory without a fuss. And the Makarovs are indebted to us for saving their delivery, securing the cash they would have lost when the Blackjacks were caught.”
I closed my eyes and tipped my head back. Dad made it sound smooth and easy. Any number of things could go sideways with this juggling act.
“But I’ve decided to reassign your position to someone else,” Dad said.
“What? Why?”
“This is club business,” he replied. “I’ve asked too much of you already. Torch will be the one to tip off the cops, then create the diversion we need to swoop in and take the guns back. You don’t have to do anything except get out. Then you can celebrate with me and the boys over some drinks when this is all over.”
Partly, I was relieved. But mostly, it stung to be carved out of the plan so easily, without a second thought, especially after the work I'd already done so far.
“I can handle myself—”
“It’s not about that, Leigh,” Dad said. “When I give the signal, you grab your bags, and leave immediately. Got it?”
A pause echoed on the phone, weighted by something he wasn’t telling me. But I didn’t get a chance to probe for answers.
“Leigh?”
I whirled around at the voice.
Blackbeard stood at the mouth of the alley, silhouetted in light from the open door behind him.
“What are you doing out here, princess?”
I hung up on Dad and shoved my phone in my back pocket. My heart hammered against my sternum. I twisted my fingers together to stop them from trembling.
Had he overheard any of my conversation? Did he know that my father was about to stab him in the back?
No, I couldn’t see any indication in his expression that he’d been listening in.
Then again, Blackbeard had kept the Makarov deal from me, and I never suspected he was hiding anything. Maybe I was losing my touch to sniff out a lie…
“Just needed some air,” I replied, nodding toward the clubhouse. “It’s crowded tonight.”
“How much time do you have left in your shift?”
“About two hours.”
He nodded and gestured to the door.
“The sooner you get it over with, the faster I can take you home and work that stress out of your system with an orgasm or two.”
