Max had to swallow against the emotion in his throat at the mention of her name. That she’d come out of the fire with nothing more than a sprained ankle, a few cuts and bruises, and minor smoke inhalation was a miracle.
But it had been too close a call, and the fact that he’d almost lost her was a possibility still too close to the surface.
“She’s okay,” Max said. “Shaken up, devastated about the house, but okay.”
“Good.”
Max wasn’t surprised to find that Farrell seemed to mean it. He’d seen another side to the man during the days since the shooting. Farrell was still a dick — but there was definitely more there than met the eye.
“Any word on Jason or Frazier?” Max asked.
“We have the lab tracing credit cards and airport security cams.” It was the first time Luca had spoken, and Max couldn’t shake the feeling that Luca still blamed him for Nico’s injury.
Hell, Max blamed himself.
Farrell told him that Luca had been Nico’s underboss and closest friend. Max knew from experience that habits — and brotherhood — like that die hard.
They’d underestimated Jason’s goals, plain and simple, had assumed Jason’s primary aim was to maintain his reputation with Fredo when it had been about Max all along.
Max had expected any violence to build from the conversation they’d been having, had been utterly shocked when Jason and Dean gunned down everyone but him in the first ten minutes of their meeting.
It was a miscalculation that would haunt Max for the rest of his life.
“Jason’s financial situation will make it easier for him to hide,” Christophe said. “His notoriety will make it more difficult.”
Max nodded. Jason had been missing since the day of the shooting, as had Bruce Frazier.
Max wanted to tear someone apart with his bare hands when he thought of either of them. Now he knew why Dean had been at the meeting instead of Frazier: Frazier had been dispatched to set Abby’s house on fire.
Had Jason known Abby would be in it? Max hated himself for not wanting to believe Jason would use Abby to hurt him, but then he would get a flash of the look in Jason’s eyes when he’d pointed the gun at Max, railing against the unfairness of it all.
Maybe it’s time you see what it’s like to lose the things that matter most.
Was that why Jason had turned the gun on Nico instead of Max? Because he’d sensed Max’s affinity for Nico? Because killing Max would have been too easy in his eyes? Because Jason wanted him to suffer loss after loss?
“Will we find him?” Max asked no one in particular.
“Hard to say,” Farrell answered.
The Syndicate was in a race with the FBI to find Jason, and while their sources inside the bureau were taking their time, giving the Syndicate time to catch him first, they wouldn’t be able to put off their superiors forever.
“What about you?” Nico asked him quietly. “Have you given any thought to what’s next?”
Max considered the question. He’d thought about walking away — after all, the Syndicate wasn’t his problem anymore — but he’d developed an annoying attachment to the men around him, especially Nico.
And Jason was still out there. The Tangier was being run by its Board of Directors in absentia of its CEO, but that wouldn’t last forever. Jason probably had more than enough money to stay hidden for the rest of his life, but Max didn’t think that would be Jason’s move.
His legacy was too important to him. He wasn’t about to forfeit it without a fight to a bunch of suits in New York.
Max didn’t think he was going to forfeit his revenge either.
Jason hadn’t pulled the trigger the last time, but his resentment toward Max would only be more powerful now. He would come back, for Max and for Abby, too.
This time, Max would make sure he went down for good — and not via prison.
This time, Jason would pay for the unforgivable crime of hurting Abby, of taking something of value from her, of almost taking her from Max.
And this time, he would pay with his life.
Max looked at the men around the room: Luca, still staring at him from the bar, Farrell, standing with his arms crossed like he was waiting for an imminent assault, Christophe, studying Max with unreadable eyes.
And finally Nico, waiting for his answer.
“Seems like Vegas still isn’t under control,” Max said.
Nico nodded. “It won’t be under control until Jason Draper is dead.”
“I thought I’d help you with it — long term, if you’re still interested in having me,” Max said.
Resolve ran through Max’s blood like cold steel as he shook Nico’s hand.
This was his town.
Abby’s town.
They would rule it together — after he eliminated Jason for good.
The End
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