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Fabre sits on one of the sofas as his two men stand close by.
“Hello, Mr. Fabre. My name’s Jack Brockington. I used to run with the DiAngelo family.”
“But before that, you used to run with Mr. Middleton in the organization, is that right?”
“Yes, I see you did your homework.”
“I always do. You must have called in a really big favor to get Mr. Middleton to arrange this meet for you.”
Fabre stares at me, and I can sense Lars’s body posture shifting in the far corner of the room. He’s itching for Fabre to do something stupid, looking for any excuse to put a bullet in his chest.
“Hunter and I do have some history, but this meeting was bound to happen, Mr. Fabre. I know you’ve taken some interest in things out here on the West Coast, but I’m asking that you leave my business out of it.”
“Before we get down to brass tacks, I wanted to introduce my daughter’s fiance to you, Middleton. Gabriel’s never been to Cali before. I thought I’d show him how the Fabres do business and brought him along.”
Naomi’s fiance looks indifferent to the introduction and doesn’t bother speaking at all. If I had to guess, I’d say he doesn’t care much for his new father-in-law, but what else is new? I don’t know too many men that say good things about Fabre.
“When is the wedding?” I ask, knowing I shouldn’t show any interest at all but remembering part of the conversation I overheard between Naomi, Megan, and Lena before Megan was kidnapped–neither Gabriel nor Naomi wants this.
“My wife is managing the wedding planning. It will be a grand occasion, though, the way we always do it in Louisiana,” he says with an extra twang to his voice. “I’d love it if you and Megan could make it.”
Every muscle in my body contracts.
He just had to say her name.
“You can’t help yourself, can you?” I say through gritted teeth.
“Can we get back to the reason why we’re all here, Mr. Fabre?” Jack interrupts, sensing the immediate danger growing in the room. “Can you assure me that you’ll leave my business alone as you expand out west?”
“And what do I get out of the arrangement?”
“Ten percent, of course.”
“Ten percent?” Fabre scoffs. “You’ll pay me ten percent of a business that could be a hundred percent mine if I put a bullet through your head right now?”
Everyone’s eyes widen except for mine. If it wasn’t clear why he decided to fly across the country for this meeting before, it’s crystal clear now. This is it. This is him making his move, daring anyone to stop him. And doing it in front of me is just icing on the cake.
“No one is getting shot inside this suite today,” I say steadily. “Not on my watch.”
Not today.
“Of course not,” Fabre smirks. “I’m just saying that ten percent is a disrespectful offer. I thought your man here would know better. I could simply take all of it from him, and he’d have nothing.”
“You’re assuming a lot of things. You can’t just walk up in the city of Los Angeles, take a man’s livelihood from him, and think there won’t be any repercussions.”
“Ask around, Middleton. I have a good track record of doing just that.”
“Not here, you don’t.”
We stare off at each other, and I notice a hint of amusement emitting from Gabriel’s eyes while the other man with Fabre stands stoically.
“Jack,” I say, turning to face him. “You’re going to have to do better than ten percent if you want to leave this room with a deal.”
“But I already have to give a piece to the organization.”
“That’s your business,” I tell him.
“Rest assured, Jack, when I make my move out here, you won’t have to give any of your business to the organization–just the Fabre family.”