I snap my fingers at Leo and my guard leaves and heads toward the bar.
“Drink?” I asked. I didn’t have all day to sit around and chat.
“Whiskey,” Rage said.
His voice was gruff.
Leo came back with two drinks, placing them both on the table. Rage didn’t reach for his and neither did I. The whiskey here wasn’t as good as the stuff I had back at home. I didn’t want to think of home as that took my thoughts to Adelaide.
“Let’s cut to the fucking chase rather than measuring our dicks,” Rage said. “You want something from me. What?”
“I want Demon’s head.”
“Not going to happen. Try again.”
“Do you think what he’s doing with the club will allow you all to live?” I asked.
Rage laughed. “I’m in your territory right now and I’m still breathing.”
“For now, you’re alive because I will it, but at any moment with the snap of my fingers, your life would be mine.” I hold my fingers up and snap them.
“You think I’m afraid of you, pretty boy?” Rage asked.
“I think you should be.” I point at my body. “All of this, it’s fucking fake, and that’s why you’re showing me respect right now. It’s why you’re not wearing your colors, and why you agreed to meet with me. Some of my men believe you would rather work with me than against me.”
“I should have known there were rats in the club.”
“Do rats make sure your club survives?” I asked. “Because from where I’m sitting, Evil Savages MC’s days are numbered.”
Rage sits back, stares at me for a few moments, and then reaches for his drink. “I’d heard about you, you know. Before you got all big and powerful.”
There’s no need to ask about what. I’m quite aware of my reputation. I’d lived it so I know exactly what is said about me.
“You ran from your father.”
This did make me smile.
“They say you weren’t his kid, that he beat you within an inch of your life. That you can take a great deal of beatings. People think you can’t be killed,” Rage said.
“Do you believe the stories they make up to scare little kids?” I asked.
“I know what I see, and you’re a man who is one scary motherfucker. I have to wonder why you decided to talk to me rather than Demon. He’s my prez. I follow him.”
“But you don’t agree with him. When the rumor of Ivan Volkov’s death got to your club, you didn’t agree with attacking my territory. Trust me, Rage, I can wipe your club out without a care in the world, but that’s bad business. I have no interest in a war between us. I’m aware of how big your club is, how far it’s spread.” I could kill them all, and it would certainly provide me some good sport for a while, but I wasn’t interested in that.
Killing the club off wouldn’t work. Not for me. I had a feeling I would need them down the road. Cutting off good men and potential alliances wasn’t good. Ivan knew that, and so did I. Even when my father beat me, I watched him work. He was a shrewd businessman and refused to take revenge if it would affect the Bratva.
The same goes here. Demon was one poisonous cog, but Rage would make a better prez. I just needed to remove the rusty cog.
“So, you know you wouldn’t win,” Rage said.
This made me smile. “They did say you were a dreamer. I would win. As you say, I can’t be killed.”
“Those are the scary stories people tell their kids to be afraid of you. I’m not afraid of you, Andrei. You’re a man just like me, and I have no interest in hearing your bullshit.”
He stands up, just as I knew he would, and I wait as he takes two steps. Picking up my whiskey, I mutter over the glass, “We have Lottie.”
I make sure to use the nickname he’s always used for her. The tension in his back rises. He’s pissed off. Good. So am I.
Rage turned and stormed back to me. His hand swiped the glass off the table. Cheap whiskey spilled to the floor.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Hasn’t Demon told you we’ve taken her? That’s a surprise because he does know she’s missing.”
Rage’s jaw clenched.
“I guess he sees her as collateral damage.” I tut. “I thought you liked her.” Not romantically. Rage cared about Lottie as if she was his own daughter.
“She is no part of the club. You have no right to take her.”
I drain the cheap-ass whiskey, swigging it back, hating the bitter taste as it slides down my throat. I’m not the kind of man who likes cheap things.
Standing up, I put my hands flat to the table, and glare right in his face. Both of us are hanging on by a thread, wanting to reach for our guns to take the other out, but we’re also prepared to see what happens next.
“We have taken her, and if you want to see her alive, then I suggest you come to a decision and fast. Demon doesn’t give a flying fuck about her. We’ve already reached out. Showed him what we know.”
“I don’t believe you. Demon wouldn’t allow that.”