by Shay Savage
“Not happening,” I say. “I don’t want Cherry to live like that, not after everything she’s already been through.” I look over at Cherry and give her a slight smile. “It won’t matter once we’re gone anyway.”
“So, you really are leaving?” Nora says softly. “You’re just going to pick up and go, forget you were ever part of this family?”
“I’m not going to forget the family, Nora. Cherry and I will retain the family name. I am not a Ramsay; I don’t care who my birth parents are. Regardless, we are not going to be involved in the family business, and that means leaving town…permanently.”
“We’ve thought about this a lot,” Cherry says. “I don’t want to give you all up—I’m thrilled that I’m in this family—but I don’t want to be a part of the family business, and we can’t stay here.”
“My first priority is to keep Cherry and the baby safe and happy,” I say, looking directly at Nora. “I know that changes a lot, but it’s what I have to do, and I need all of you to respect that.”
Again, silence looms over the room for a minute, and Nora refuses to look at me.
“Well, what’s the alternative?” Antony finally asks.
“I’ve spent my whole life living for the Orso family,” I say. “I think it’s time for that to change.”
“That leaves a bit of a power vacuum,” Threes says.
“Nora can do it,” I say immediately. “She’s already said as much. If she doesn’t want it, Antony can lead. Honestly, I don’t care. I’d trust any of you in the position.”
“What about the Ramsays?” Threes asks. “They are going to try to use this against us.”
“That will be the issue,” I say. “The Ramsays will just have to go.”
“Go? Go where?” Antony shakes his head.
“Either leave town or be eliminated,” I say. “I won’t have us constantly looking over our shoulders while we’re raising our kid. The Ramsay threat has to be eliminated, and I can’t count on them to keep their end of a bargain. In fact, I think we need to completely throw out the old treaty and start over again.”
“I agree,” Threes says. “I think it’s time to put an end to them.”
“Does it have to be like that?” Cherry asks softly.
“I’m not sure there’s an alternative,” I say. “There is too much bad blood. They can’t be trusted.”
“But why?” Cherry asks. “Can’t you just…bury the hatchet and all? You and I can be a bridge to—”
“No.” I shake my head. “Not after everything that’s happened in the past.”
“But we can drive them out of Cascade Falls once and for all,” Nora says. “It doesn’t mean we eliminate the family. We can just make them leave.”
“Why would they do that?”
“Well,” Threes says, “I think that’s actually possible. Their business isn’t doing well. I think that’s why they’ve been harassing you and Cherry. I think it’s a desperate move to take over.”
“They don’t have the numbers for that,” Antony says.
“Maybe that’s why they need Cherry on their side,” Threes says. “We don’t know if Janna and Jay know about the kid swap. Janna and Jay don’t have any heirs. It’s really just the two of them unless you count a couple of cousins or whatever.”
“Hey!” Antony smacks Threes on the back of the head. “Nothing wrong with cousins.”
“I’m all for driving them out of town,” I say, “but I don’t think that will be easy. They’d need a good reason, and we don’t have one for them.”
“What about some of the business we’ve set up in Cincinnati? Could we offer them that to leave?”
“Maybe.” All of this is starting to give me a headache. “I’m not sure that would be enough though.”
Andrea suddenly pokes her head in the office door and motions for Antony. He stands and goes to the door. I glare at Andrea, still annoyed about finding her with the pool boy over my desktop, but she ducks out with Antony right behind her before we make eye contact.
“Maybe I should stay out of this,” Cherry says.
“You’re part of this family,” Nora says. “You should know what’s going on.”
“But I’m also the one holding you back. I don’t understand how things work, and I don’t think I want to. Maybe I should leave so you can make…whatever decisions you have to make.”
“No, Cherry.” Nora takes her hand. “You have a say in what happens too. Your opinion is just as important as everyone else’s.”
The door opens again.
“Boss?” Antony says. He motions for me to join him.
I sigh and walk out into the hallway.
“We have a guest,” Antony says quietly.
“Guest?” I’d assumed he’d gone out because the hacker kid had arrived, but clearly, it’s someone else.
“Yeah.”
“Who is it?” I step out of the office and look past Antony, but I can’t quite see the foyer.
“Landon Stark.”
I feel a chill run up my body. I’ve never met Landon Stark, but his reputation for being ruthless and having a lust for brutality is well known. He’s one of the primary trainers for death-match tournaments organized for the entertainment of the stupidly rich and bored. If rumors are to be believed, he used to participate in the matches himself and still trains fighters for Joseph Franks in Seattle.
“Landon Stark is here?” I lower my voice quickly. “In our house? Why?”
“I don’t know, but shit’s going down in Seattle, and Stark has questions about…well, he’s asking about those documents I made.”
“You made documents for his son, the one who won that tournament up north.”
“Yeah, that’s the guy—Sebastian Stark. He wanted documents in Landon Stark’s name.”
With everything else going on over the last couple of months, I’d completely forgotten about this particular transaction. In theory, we are immune to any fallout from producing fake identities. It’s the only way we can do business with all of the families without someone getting pissed about something and causing disruption to everyone else’s needs. Our work is supposed to be untouchable, but I can only hope Landon Stark recognizes that.
“Holy fuck. How does Stark know about that?”
“I have no idea. I can’t tell if he’s pissed off or just generally a grumpy, old dude. He’s not known for being a nice guy, that’s for sure.”
“Did you tell him you made them?”
“I didn’t deny it. Either way, he said he wants to talk to you.”
“Fuck!” I take a few deep breaths. As much as I want to wash my hands of this whole operation, I can’t leave Antony to fend for himself. Blood relative or not, Antony has been beside me my entire life, and I won’t abandon him now. “Let me get everyone out of the office, then you bring him there. Offer him a drink or whatever. I’ll join you in a minute.”
I step back into the office and usher everyone into the sitting room. Nora’s eyes go wide when I tell her who’s come to visit us, and I leave her to explain it to Cherry while I meet with Stark. I take a minute to compose myself as Antony escorts Stark into my office. After a few deep breaths, I go back to the office where I find Landon Stark sitting in my chair behind the desk.
“Mr. Orso?” He stands as I enter the room.
“I’m Nataniele Orso, yes.” I walk over to him, ignoring where he’s chosen to sit, and offer him my hand. “Pleased to meet you in person.”
“I need a few moments of your time,” he says, looking directly at Antony as he retakes my seat, “alone.”
“Of course.” I give Antony a nod, and he closes the door behind him.
“You’ve heard about Joseph Franks.”
“Just now, yes.” Stark makes no move to get out of my chair, and I don’t know if I’m supposed to sit on the couch or just stand here. I also have no idea if I should offer condolences or not, so I stay where I am and say nothing else.
“Seattle is in an u
proar. It was clearly a calculated hit, but the only one with that kind of skill is supposed to be dead.”
“Moretti’s hitman.” I nod, glad I at least had some information so I don’t sound completely clueless.
“I was there at that tournament,” Stark says, “and Evan Arden never made it back from the arctic. Hell, my own fighter barely made it out, and he was practically in pieces. Shortly after his recovery in the hospital, Bastian Stark came here to retrieve certain documents for himself”—he pauses for a long moment—“in my name.”
Another shiver runs down my spine, and I do my best to keep my face expressionless. I don’t want to show my absolute terror of the man in my chair, but all I can think about is that I have a soon-to-be wife and child to protect, and I can’t do anything that gets me killed and leaves them left to fend for themselves.
“That is correct.” I see no reason to deny what he clearly already knows. “We do business for all the families and their primary associates. We are under no obligation to disclose the particulars of those transactions.”
“Let me be crystal clear here, Mr. Orso,” Stark says as he leans forward on the desk, “I’m not here to blame you for anything. I knew about Sebastian getting those documents in my name, and I don’t care. He isn’t responsible for this, and neither am I. However, it has created a vacuum in the Seattle area, and if information about those documents were to reach the wrong people, it could compromise my position in the network. I need to know that information will not leave your control.”
I hold in a sigh of relief and give him a slight nod.
“The only people who know about that particular transaction are Antony and myself. The information will never go anywhere else.”
“Good.” Landon Stark leans back in my chair. “Moretti is shifting blame from himself to point a finger at me, and I need to disappear for a while until it can be sorted out.”
“I’m sure we can accommodate you. Whatever you need is at your disposal. I’ll need a few particulars so we can assess your exact needs.”
“Whatever can be done efficiently. I don’t plan on visiting your family home for long.”
He’s clearly in a hurry, and though I understand the reason why, there’s something else going on that I can’t quite put my finger on. It must have more to do with his son than I realized.
The son who secretly obtained documents in his father’s name.
Why did Sebastian Stark secure those documents? Clearly, Landon knows about it now, but I don’t get the idea he knew about it beforehand. What did Sebastian do in his father’s name?
“I can get you the basics—driver’s license and passport—easily enough. If Canada is your destination, for instance, you shouldn’t need anything else. Those can be done in two hours, but they’ll look new. You’d want to be sure you give them a little wear and tear before you cross any borders. If you want something more comprehensive, as in a completely new identity for long-term use and also give us time to dirty the docs up, it will take a little more time.”
“Two hours is acceptable.”
“Rush jobs are expensive.”
“I don’t care about the cost.” Stark stares out the office window, his face darkening.
He doesn’t care about cost, which doesn’t surprise me, but he’s not even asking for the price. His mind is clearly elsewhere, and I’m sure it doesn’t have anything to do with the death of Joseph Franks. He has enough pull in Seattle to get the job done without leaving, so why is he in such a hurry?
Suddenly, I realize the answer to all my problems is sitting in my chair, and the resolution will be one that Cherry can live with.
“Mr. Stark, could I ask you a question?”
“You can ask.”
“Were you around when Franks negotiated a treaty between Roland Ramsay and Carlo Orso?”
“I know there was one back in the day,” Stark says. “I never bothered to look into the details.
“Well, to make a very long story brief, I was raised as an Orso, but Roland Ramsay was my birth father.” I don’t mention Cherry at all.
“I don’t see how this is relevant,” Stark says. “I’m not interested in your petty rivalries right now. Are you saying I should be dealing with another member of the family, then? An actual Orso?”
“Not at this time, no, but with the root of the conflict coming to light all these years later, I want it finished.”
“So, end it.” Stark shrugs. “Those who signed the treaty are long gone as well as anyone who actually cares. None of the major outfits will interfere in a war in your remote little town. As long as the document business continues, we have no vested interest in who runs this operation.”
“I want it ended without bloodshed.”
“Why?” He looks at me closely with piercing, calculating eyes.
“Because I’ve had enough of it. Consider it my final, charitable act before removing myself from the Orso family. I might not be a blood relative, but I’ve lived with this family my entire life, and I want to make sure they are safe and protected before I leave.”
“What exactly are you suggesting?”
“I want the Ramsays out of town and away from this family permanently, and I think we can come up with an arrangement—one that benefits us both.”
“Go on.” He leans forward and folds his hands on the desk.
“You need some time away as things get settled in Seattle, correct? May I assume that once that happens, you plan on running the organization in Seattle?”
“You can assume that.”
“You’re going to need allies.”
“You mean you?” Stark snorts out a short laugh.
“I mean people loyal to you. The Orso family remains neutral, as we always have, but the Ramsays? They need a new home. It’s really only the two of them left—Janna and Jay. They’re floundering without direction, and I want them out. They need to understand that they can’t maintain their businesses near our territory, and that will only happen if they have a better offer.”
“You want me to take your rivals off your hands by relocating them to Seattle.”
“Yes. You can control the drug trade through Ohio remotely or set up your own people in a more central location—Columbus or Cincinnati. We stay out of each other’s way, and the Ramsays never set foot in Cascade Falls again.”
“Why would they agree to this arrangement?”
“Because Janna likes power, and she’ll see it as a step up from her current position. She can leave to pursue this ‘promotion,’ if you will, and save face at the same time. Everyone gets what they want.”
“Why would I want them?” Stark narrows his eyes, but I’m positive he’s considering the idea. “I can hire drug runners from anywhere.”
“You need loyalty beyond all else, and they’ll be more loyal to you.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because they need a father figure, and you need to replace the son you’ve clearly lost.” I see Stark’s jaw tighten at the mention of his son. He raises an eyebrow at me. I tense and then speak a little faster. “He wouldn’t be getting documents in your name if you weren’t on the outs. Jay is a bruiser—definitely more brawn than brains—and could be trained for the tournaments to replace your ‘retired’ champion.”
Stark looks out the window again. I’m right—I know I am—and he’s seriously considering my suggestion.
“Of course, we’ll throw in all the necessary documents as part of the plan.”
“Yes, you will, but this arrangement still benefits you more than it does me. I have people loyal to me already located on the West Coast.”
“And in these times, the more people you have, the better.” I swallow hard as he looks at me skeptically, and then I realize I have another ace up my sleeve. “I’ll even offer you better technical assistance to help with your temporary relocation and return to the Seattle operation.”
“Technical assistance?”
“Who is more valua
ble than a good hacker?” His eyes soften slightly, and I know I’ve hit the mark. “I happen to have one who could be very beneficial.”
“And you’d throw this hacker in with the deal?”
“I would.”
“And how do I know this hacker will be loyal?”
“Meet with him and check him out,” I say. “He will be here shortly. Meet with the Ramsays, too. Before your documents are ready for you, everything can be in place.”
Landon Stark sits in my office chair, silent and contemplative for far longer than is comfortable. His jaw tightens and relaxes. He folds and unfolds his hands, and his eyes never leave mine. I hold the gaze—as painful as it is—and wait as patiently as I can. Just when I’m sure he’s going to say no and maybe even put a bullet in my head, he speaks.
“Do you have a method for organizing a meeting with your rival family?”
“I have an idea, yes.”
“Then do so.”
*****
The summer heat turns the car into an oven, so I finally suck it up and get out. I walk slowly down the cemetery path, looking through a section I’d never been in before until I find the grave of Leanne Ramsay.
My mother.
I never knew this woman. I barely knew Rosa Orso, for that matter. I was quite young when she passed, but I knew nothing of Leanne Ramsay. I’d heard about Roland Ramsay all my life but very little about his wife. I wonder what kind of a person she was, and if she—like the woman who raised me—was kind and gentle despite her husband’s inclinations.
It doesn’t take very long before I hear a car pull up behind me. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stand here without attracting attention from exactly the person I needed to see. I don’t even turn around when I hear Janna Ramsay’s voice.
“Well, this is unexpected.”
“Is it?” I still don’t turn around.
“If you’re standing here over my mother’s grave, I can only assume someone has finally told you the truth, little brother.”
“So, you do know.”
“Of course I do.”
“When?”
“Right after Micha Orso told me.”
I tense but try not to show it. To cover my agitation, I take a seat on one side of a nearby bench, and Janna sits on the other side, keeping her distance.