“My father is coming.” I pushed up my jacket sleeve and checked my watch. “So is Wellington. They should be here any minute.”
As one of The Founders Society Elders, Carl Wellington could speak on their behalf. He was a high-ranking member of the organization that overlooked the secret societies in the United States. Every group beneath The Founders Society had a specific purpose.
There was a hierarchy.
The Devil’s Knights answered directly to the Founders. Smaller groups like The Serpents worked for us, handling corporate espionage and fixing scandals.
I glanced over at Damian, who had dark circles beneath his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Bastian looked equally tired. Alex must have kept them up late again.
Drake Battle leaned forward, propping his elbows on his thighs as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers.
I tapped the ash of my cigar in the tray. “Rough night, Battle?”
“Yeah.” He sighed as our eyes met. “I was up all night doing coding sprints. The board wants to see a working demo of my AI software on Monday.”
“Tell them to fuck off.” I leaned back in my chair and blew out a puff of smoke. “It’s your tech.”
He snorted. “I’m not a dick like you. Battle Industries is spending close to a billion dollars to develop the technology.”
I shrugged. “I just threaten our board if they get out of hand.”
“The shit you get away with, Salvatore.” He shook his head and smirked. “No, it doesn’t work like that at my company. I actually respect my board.”
“Fuck them.” I took another puff of my cigar, and the smoke gathered above his head. “My last name is on the fucking building. Not theirs. And I remind them every day.”
Drake howled with laughter. “Asshole.”
“Hold their secrets of their heads,” Bastian chimed. “That’s what Damian and I do with the Atlantic Airlines board.”
“Because you learned from the master,” Drake quipped with his eyes on me.
We had a saying in Devil’s Creek.Secrets are commodities. I collected secrets as if they were money because they were more valuable.
My father cleared his throat as he entered the room with Carl Wellington in tow. Carl looked like a Founder, dressed in a six thousand dollars suit, his white hair styled and the air of entitlement surrounding him like fog.
“Gentleman.” He tipped his head to the group and sat in the chair beside me. “I have no time to waste. So let’s make this fast.”
“We have a problem,” my dad said as he dropped into the armchair on my right. “Someone intercepted one of the Mac Corp shipping containers before it reached the port.”
Carl’s eyes narrowed. “Which one?”
My father ran a hand across the dark stubble on his jaw with his cold, hard stare fixed on Carl. “One of the Basiles’ orders.”
I stamped out my cigar, breathing through my nose to contain my rage. “What about the other containers?”
“Untouched,” my father said. “As far as we can tell. We’ll know more in the next few hours after a full inventory.”
“What is The F Society doing about it?” Drake asked Carl.
“Let us handle them,” Carl said with authority. “Just worry about keeping my granddaughter safe. Alex is my primary focus.”
“No one will touch her,” I assured him. “You have my word.”
His expression darkened. “If anything were to happen to Alex, things will get worse for The Devil’s Knights.”
I nodded. “Understood.”
“And for your family,” Carl added with a bite to his tone.