Page 67 of Gravity
Titus let it ring, and ring, and ring.
Franklin’s call ended, but a few seconds later it started up again.
Holding Dave’s hard gaze, Titus reached out and poked the answer icon.
“What?” Titus snapped, his voice low, ugly, and bored at the same time.
“I’m sorry, Boss. It won’t happen again.”
“Why the fuck should I give you another chance when you’ve probably cost me a few hundred thousand by that stunt you pulled?”
“I never meet buyers up front, I always test them,” Franklin’s voice shook slightly.
“Not when it’s from my fucking recommendation,” Titus snarled.
“I know, I know. I fucked up. I promise it won’t happen again. Give me the guy’s number, I’ll smooth things over and get your product. I swear.”
Stone snagged a paper and wrote down a burner phone number.
“You better make this fucking work or you’re gone.” Titus rattled off the phone number and hung up before Franklin could say another word.
Nobody spoke.
They’d all heard the seriousness in Titus’s voice. Franklin feared Titus; it had come through loud and clear.
Right on cue, the burner phone rang.
“Hello?” Dave clipped into the phone. He listened, made one-word responses, and wrote down an address before ending the call.
Dave turned to him before speaking to anyone else, and Stone’s chest tightened with pride. For a moment, that simple glance felt louder than any order. After years of standing at his back, Stone knew exactly what it meant—to be seen, trusted, chosen. “We’re going to Vegas, two days from now.”
Stone let out a low breath, the hint of a laugh breaking through. “Good,” he said. “Because I’m done standing on the sidelines while you play daredevil.”
The thing between them—a promise, a debt, a hunger—made the risk feel like theirs to divide, not his alone to shoulder.
Stone watched Dave’s hand close around the address, steady but sure.
Whatever waited in Vegas, Stone would make damned sure Franklin didn’t walk away.
The fucker deserved worse, but a punch to the head was a good place to start.
By late morning, the estate was alive. Boots thudded across the floors, the smell of coffee clung to the air, and Sparrow’s voice carried from the war room where Stone, Rip, and Viper bent over maps.
“Walk with me,” Dave said to Titus.
Stone and Viper snapped upright; Dave raised a hand to stop them. Stone stepped forward anyway, then paused when Dave gently shook his head.
Titus set the map down and fell into step. “A lot of this hinges on you,” Dave said as they moved down the hall.
“I know. How can I help?” Titus kept pace, boots quiet on the floor.
“When we get Franklin, I’ll place you both in custody. We’ll confiscate his phone and laptop, but I need you to get him talking in case there’s nothing on his electronics.” Dave didn’t bother softening the ask.
Titus stopped at a window near the front entrance and stared out into the dark. “If I’m arrested with him, it might lower his guard.” He exhaled. “But you have to remember—Franklin never told me anything about Tatum.”
“I know.” Dave kept his voice even. “Still—worth a shot.”
“I’ll do it.”
