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“Perhaps because she’s a Wolf.”

“We could go through the list of owners,” Abrams said. “One by one. I can predict how they’re going to vote right now.”

“When’s the vote?” Gallo said.

“Next month.”

“You can’t move it up?”

“The dates for the meetings are locked in,” he said. “And even though this is an emergency for all of us, it’s not for them. We don’t want to look as if we’re panicking here.”

Gallo turned back to Danny.

“You tell me you will get something on her that we can use.”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you,” Danny said. “We’re going to throw everything at her we can.”

Gallo turned his attention back to the commissioner. “You have far more resources than he does. Just so you’re ready the next time one of your players gets arrested for a gun or drugs or a wife.”

“On it, Mr. Gallo,” Joel Abrams said.

“Mr.” Gallo,Danny thought.

As deferential as if John Gallo were the commissioner.

“Your brother Jack has skin in this game, too,” Gallo said to Danny Wolf. “Do I need to have another conversation with him? He knows what everybody in this room knows, about how much money I am willing to invest in this process and the control I exert over the board of supervisors.”

“Jack is highly motivated, trust me. We all know what the stakes are, for everyone involved.”

Gallo looked at him. Or through him. Danny started to say something. Gallo gave a slight shake of his head.

“I didn’t get to where I am—or accumulate the kind of wealth and power I have—playing by somebody else’s rules. And here is rule number one: I amalwaysthe last one in the room.”

They only know what I want them to know,Gallo thought.They have no idea how much is riding on this for me.

“Everybody always talks about throwing everything except the kitchen sink. You throw that at her, too.”

He smiled.

“Or drop one on the poor girl,” John Gallo said. “I frankly don’t care. Just stop her.”

He slammed his hand down, making both Danny Wolf and the commissioner of the National Football League jump.

“Now.”

Nineteen

THOMAS WOLF’S SECRETARY TOLDBen Cantor that Thomas was on his way to the yacht club and might be planning to spend the night onThe Sea Wolf.

Cantor had released the boat back to the family by then, after having gone over it again, still finding no evidence that someone had been on it that night with Joe Wolf. Cantor had no idea whether the youngest son had inherited it or just grabbed it for himself, being a Wolf. Frankly, Cantor didn’t care. He had just decided it was time to make a more serious run at the boy prince, put him in the same barrel he’d put his sister in the other day.

After just one conversation with Thomas Wolf at the stadium, Cantor had already gotten the idea that you had to Taser him to shut him up once he picked up a good head of steam.

Thomas was on the top deck when Cantor came walking up the dock.

“Permission to come aboard,” Cantor called out, grinning up at him.

“I was hopeful that my only company tonight would be my date,” Thomas said. “Blair. Or maybe it’s Blaine.”