11. Raleigh

CHAPTER 11

Raleigh

I spend the rest of the morning practicing my speech for Silver- and fighting the need to want to throw up. God I’m so nervous. As much as I don’t feel like eating, I need sustenance before the big event. I go out of my way to get some breakfast from the kitchen- something that makes Iris look at me with total shock when I pass her in the hall with a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon.

We haven’t talked since I stormed out of the office, and the guilt of keeping my plan from her is definitely starting to gnaw a hole in my stomach.

But what happens when I come out on top?

Will Iris be proud of me when Silver leaves us alone for good? Will she congratulate me on a job well done, maybe even call me a “true Warwick”? I can almost picture it- her beaming with pride, her hand on my shoulder as she tells me I’m more than just a pretty face.

And Thomas… could he actually see me as more than his kid sister? Maybe he’d give me a seat at the table, trust me with bigger decisions. I can practically hear him telling the family, “Raleigh handled Silver, she’s proven herself.” I’d finally have that respect- my name spoken in the same breath as his, not as a side piece, but as a real player in the game.

Enough, I can’t get lost in this. I need to focus. I need to be ready for Silver.

And if I keep overthinking it, I’ll make myself sick with anxiety.

Instead, I focus on the bright side. This is my first real negotiation- hell, my first time running any kind of deal like this. I should be taking it more seriously, but part of me is… well, thrilled that I’m taking this reckless chance.

Dear ol’ dad would be rolling in his grave if he could see me now.

The place I told Silver to meet at, Cooper’s, is the neutral spot on the map chosen by the Warwicks and the Speares during the ten years of war between our families. Well, now that Morgan Speare is dead, it’s just the shittiest little bar you’ve ever seen, on the dingy corner of Cock Lane and Hackney Street. The color has all but leached out of its red brick walls, and even at night I doubt the neon sign would light up at all.

So really, I’m elevating it once again by bringing back a glorious tradition. Silver’s playing so hard at being a mafia boss, so fine, I’ll throw him that bone. He can feel honored to stand where his stupid father stood.

And in the most uncertain corner of my mind, screaming that this whole thing is a bad, bad idea, I’m hoping that fact will remind him to keep this civil.

I’m about as thrilled to leave my Bentley alone in this parking lot as I would be to stick my hand in a snake hole, but needs must. I scan the lot, wondering which car might belong to him. I make a mental note to spot it before he leaves.

Every head in the bar turns to look at me when I enter. I’m the only woman, and every one of these men is balding, beer-bellied, and blearily drunk. I wrinkle my nose against the rancid smell of spilled alcohol and the unwashed bodies of the day drunk, and step high over the sticky wooden floors toward the back of the bar. Through a door that hesitates when I try to open it, there’s a private pool room filled with the old smell of cigarette smoke. The pool table sits smack in the middle of the sagging floor, under a shabby chandelier that bathes the room in about a third of the light it needs.

And in the shadows on the far side of the room, the pool table a pitiful obstacle between us, Silver is already waiting for me. He’s flanked by two identical goons, just like he was the last time I saw him, standing with his arms crossed over his chest and his feet shoulder width apart. At least in this pose I can tell they’re not holding any guns, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t still armed. For a second, I wonder if this could be another lookalike, one of the ones Derrick’s been supposedly chasing all over the place.

But when Silver tilts his head back just enough that the hazy light from the chandelier hits his gray eyes, I know he’s the real deal.

I have to lock my knees to hide the shiver that runs down my spine when I see him again. As much as I want to crack a joke about how he and his thugs look like a grungy boy band about to break out in song and dance… the words get caught in my throat.

The last time I saw this man, he had a gun in his hand and his goons were telling me to get fucked, literally . He didn’t know who I was then, but now that he does, I want him to start feeling just a little of the fear that I did.

Silver gives nothing away, of course. He only nods, as if to himself, recognizing me with more humor than terror. I don’t like that he’s not immediately cowed. And then his raspy voice chills me all over again.

“If I’d known I had Raleigh Warwick in my company last time, things could’ve gone very differently.”

That’s not an apology, not remotely. My stomach churns, and it’s not nerves this time. He wasn’t supposed to get the opening remark, and he’s already shaken me. Anger and disgust help me find my voice.

“You mean you would’ve been threatening me directly, instead of Derrick?” I shoot back.

Silver dips his head. “Believe me, Miss Warwick, I meant to handle that situation with more… subtlety. You were not supposed to be involved at all.”

Still not good enough. I lost my virginity in front of his henchman’s little domination stunt, and that’s all he has to say? He hoped for more subtlety ?!

My fear evaporates, replaced entirely by rage.

Silver shakes his head. “No need to make that face. I can assume it was your guys who ripped through every one of my men to get you out?”

Every one of my men.

I imagine Silver with a few bullet holes in his face, and draw strength from the fantasy. Also the confirmation that the man who forced me to have sex with Derrick in the first place was one of the casualties after all. “Yeah, that’s right,” I say coldly.

“Then that means we’re even, don’t you think?”

Not even close. Not by a fucking mile.

Before I can think of a response scathing enough, Silver goes on. “I hope this means you’re here to make me a better offer than the one I made to our mutual sheriff friend.”

“The one where he gives you inside information on us ?” I clarify.

Silver only shrugs. “By all accounts we both gain something by killing and replacing him. Or we can play tug-of-war with his services until we eventually tear him apart. Personally, I like to get every last drop of use out of a person before I discard them.”

I don’t really like the visual image of Derrick being pulled to pieces. Which is stupid, because I shouldn’t care. I don’t care.

I’m getting distracted.

“You’re receiving his… ‘services’, then?” I can’t help but ask. It’s a mistake. I know it before the question even leaves my mouth, but even more certainly when Silver cocks his head, almost pityingly. I’ve just given away something I don’t know, an uncertainty that Silver can take advantage of.

To my surprise, though, he immediately gives up that advantage.

“I never actually planned to work with the sheriff, Miss Warwick. He killed my pops, after all. Ruined my kingdom. I like being upfront with people I do intend to have a working relationship with, so I’ll tell you this: I fully expected Mr. Lindman to cave immediately in order to save his own skin. He’d beg and blubber for a little bit, totally humiliating himself in front of me and God. And then I’d shoot him in the face.”

A chill goes down my spine. So when Silver said Derrick could work with him or die, what he was really saying was that no matter what Derrick chose to do, he would die. In fact, the only thing that saved either of our lives that day might have been Silver’s anger at his own henchmen for acting behind his back.

“But then he didn’t grovel,” Silver says, with a put-upon sigh. “He insisted on defending his own character. Claiming he was on my father’s side until the end. The problem I have with that, of course, is that he immediately took credit for whatever he did or didn’t do to get ahead. My father’s downfall made the sheriff’s career. So it doesn’t really matter to me that he claims he had nothing to do with it, y’know?”

“This is all really cute,” I say, my voice a little too taut to be indifferent, “but I didn’t call you to gab about the sheriff.”

Not to mention, I don’t want to talk about Derrick anymore. I don’t want to be reminded about how close to death we were that day. And I definitely don’t want to think about how Derrick promised to get me out of there safely.

“Let’s cut to the chase,” I say, stepping up to the pool table set between us and leaning my palms on the cool wooden rim. “My brother sent me here today to tell you to stop fucking around in Warwick territory.”

I mean for it to sound domineering, aggressive. Instead I sound like a little girl on the playground bluffing to some bullies.

Slowly, Silver approaches his own side of the pool table and leans against it, mirroring my pose. I can’t tell if he’s trying to mock me or intimidate me. Both, maybe.

“Did he now?” he asks. “That’s a bit rude, seeing as how it’s not actually his territory.”

“This city belongs to the Warwicks,” I counter. “It did before your daddy outed himself as a traitorous bastard, and it does now. What you’re doing right now is trespassing. And if you don’t stop, things are going to get really uncomfortable for you.”

I should not be shooting my mouth off. I know I shouldn’t. I went into this meeting knowing I needed to bluff, but getting angry was not part of the plan. I’m not supposed to be antagonizing Silver right now.

But goddamnit, I’m ready to fucking fight.

Silver doesn’t seem antagonized, though. He shakes his head, scoffing. He- he’s laughing at me!

“You forget you’re speaking to someone higher on the food chain than you, Miss Warwick,” he rasps. “I’m the son of Morgan Speare, and now that pops is gone- God rest his soul- I am king. If you want to talk to me about who owns what and who has to pay tribute to who, you should be telling your king to come talk to me directly. Otherwise, I’m afraid this is all a bit above your paygrade.”

I’m red with fury, but it looks like humiliation. At his next words, though, the blood drains from my face completely.

His head cocks, and he leans just a little further over the pool table. Testing the boundary between us. “I’d also like to remind you that there has been no formal agreement between our parties that this building should still be considered neutral territory. My men and I are armed, and if you keep testing me, this will get ugly. Something tells me Iris Agostinelli isn’t waiting in the other room to get you out of this one.”

I meant for coming here alone to be impressive, to signify confidence and power. My goal was to size him up, to let him know that if he didn’t work with me, there would be deadly consequences. But now… I just feel monumentally stupid.

“Where is Thomas, by the way?” Silver asks. “I feel like I haven’t seen him around lately. My people have been keeping an eye out. Maybe there’s a reason you’re here to talk to me instead of him. Aside from paying me a grave insult, of course. Well, graver than killing off half my men three months ago.”

“You’re not worth his time yet,” I say stiffly. So much for maintaining any diplomacy at all.

I can’t see Silver’s face, but the crinkle at the corner of his gray eyes tells me he’s smiling. “I’ll do my best to earn his attention then. Thank you for your time, Miss Warwick. It’s been a pleasure.”

And with that, he and his two goons walk past me out of the room, but not before shooting me a final, satisfied nod, closing the door quietly behind them on their way out.

I slam the side of my fist against the felt top of the pool table, and I’m too angry to even feel the pain.