Page 89 of Saxon

"Not liking the sound of that," I say. "What'd you come up with?"

"A bad plan. But the only thing I can think of."

"And that is?"

"Lure Jarrod away."

I rest my chin in my palm and arch an eyebrow at him. "And who, pray tell, is the bait?"

"Me."

I deflate. "Um, no? He wants you dead."

"Yeah, but you he'd just cut into pieces simply to piss me off—and that would be after he did a lot of very horrible things to you, just because he enjoys it." He shakes his head. "I can't attack his entourage—not without killing his guys. Camilla wants him alive. I can't—I won’t—kill. I certainly can't get into the base. You'd need a serious assault force, and even then you'd lose people. No, I need to get him away. Make him think he's got me cornered. Or better yet, offer myself up to him. He'll expect a trap, so the actual trap will have to be sneaky."

"How do you propose to do this without actually being captured?"

He winces. "I haven't figured out how to do it without letting them actually capture me."

"Won't they just kill you on sight?"

He pulls the coin from his pocket. "This is my ace in the hole." He shrugs. "I have to get in front of the right people, at the right time, and the right place."

“And then what? This feels thin, Saxon."

"It is thin. But it's all I've got." He shakes his head. "The only other thought I've had is trying to get in front of Jean-Paul."

"And he is?"

"My boss—former boss. Second in command of US operations. It's a huge risk, though, because he could just shoot me on sight, too. Or he could hear me out."

"Hear you out about what?"

“Leaving me alone."

"Why would he do that? You fucked them over, you said so yourself. I'm not too well versed in crime syndicate methodology and thought processes, but my overall impression is that they aren’t exactly known for being forgiving."

His gaze sharpens. "Maybe it's not about forgiveness."

I grin at him. "You just had a smart, didn't you?"

He huffs a laugh. "Yeah, I had a smart."

"Do share."

"The Cabal and the Marccione operations are both too big for either to attack directly. They've been at each other's throats for years—Camilla taking over has, from what I hear, been terrible for the Cabal because she's wicked smart, way smarter than her dad or brothers. Those fucks were little more than thugs. Camilla is a businesswoman."

"I'm not following."

"Jean-Paul is a businessman. A warrior, make no mistake—he cut and shot and stabbed his way to the top. His weapon of choice these days is a cell phone instead of a Glock—he got to where he is because he knows when to shoot and when to make a deal." He glances at me. "I think I can get Jean-Paul and Camilla to a table. If they can sit down and make it business, it'll be profitable for both of them...and if I’m the one to get them to the table and handle the negotiations, my cut will be to simply be left alone."

"Risky. Ballsy." He shrugs. "Better than trying to shoot my way out. I'm outmanned and hamstrung in a firefight by my vow to not take a life."

"You take that vow seriously, don't you?"

"Very much so. I'd cut off my own hand before I betrayed my brothers or broke my vow."

"So, how do we get you in front of Jean-Paul without getting shot in the face?"