Dane

Back in his father's office. Again. Only this time, they weren't alone. Felix hovered around the edges of the room. The man rarely sat down even when they weren't making plans. But days like today, when they were fully operational, Felix was a bird on a wire—always on the edge of flight. He kept looking at Dane, trying to catch his eye, and Dane kept ignoring him. He wasn't getting pulled in. Not today.

​​

His father had called them together to put what he called the finishing touches on an operation. Dane was only half-listening, assuming it would be another press on somebody who owed his father money, or an attempt to get blackmail material on someone a powerful person wanted to bring down. Those were the bread and butter of his father's days.

"…we'll be picking them up at the Station first, but we have hands on board to get us cameras even when they're outside—and we believe that's happening tomorrow, or the next day. So, we have to get a hustle on."

When Dane heard the word "station" his blood ran cold. He didn't look up from where he'd been staring, but his ears perked. He didn't have to wait long.

"We'll run coverage from the bunker, but we'll have four cars around the corners and another six in and around—they take up the whole block, so it'll be easy to cover exits."

"You're talking about the Police station?" Dane asked casually.

His father looked at him and became very still. "Yes. Is that going to be a problem."

"Not at all, I just wanted to make sure I was keeping up."

Douglas smirked, but didn't respond, and continued laying out the plan.

They had word that the Police were going to issue search warrants the following day, and probably raid overnight. Douglas didn't want to interfere if they were off-base, but if they came close to him or their teams, he was going to take care of business.

They would have real time surveillance both inside the station and eyes-on when they left. And Douglas had some of the officers on his payroll, and those would provide body-cam footage, and dash cameras from the cars if they could.

"Our goal is to stop them reaching real evidence against Dane—but we'll also take them out if they look like getting too close to us.

"Our guys are going to overlook anything important if they can—but we don't have everyone on the team, so if our Magpie gets wind of anything… he goes down."

"Magpie?" Dane asked.

Douglas smiled. "They collect things that don't belong to them. And they're noisy."

Dane snorted, but he was covering. "Who's the Magpie?"

"You know the officers."

"C'mon, Dad, you know I do. I hate those guys, but getting along with them is a necessary evil in my line of work."

Douglas accepted a paper that he'd requested from one of the other men in the room, and scanned it, nodding and handing it back before he answered.

Then he leaned back in his chair and stared at Dane. "We won't know the shift officers until the day," he said calmly, "so we won't know how many of those we have. But on the investigative team, the pain in my ass is Harry Quinn. I think you're familiar."

Dane nodded, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. "He doesn't seem like he's got much sway there, though."

"Bastard got his fingers in one of my pies years ago and he's never given up. The man's a damn Pitbull. If he gets in the way, we'll take him out. I'm done dealing with him."

Dane's eyebrows went up. "I've dealt with him. He seems pretty harmless. You have a plan to take out a Detective? Seems risky?"

His father's gaze sharpened. "You got a soft spot for Quinn?"

"Not at all. I have a soft spot for not drawing law enforcement down on us and they get hella pissed when you hurt one of their own."

"Not when one of their own is getting in the way of their sideline income—and making a nuisance of himself in other ways too."

Dane frowned. "You always told me to avoid bloodshed with cops because it brings too much attention."

Douglas nodded. "That's why we needed a plan. And we'll only take him out if he gets in the way. But if he does." Douglas shrugged.

Dane went back to staring at the carpet like he was bored, but his stomach churned and he had to control his breathing, praying he wouldn't start to sweat. There had to be a way to…

He swallowed hard.

"Let me in."

Douglas didn't even look up from his papers. "Into what?"

"If Quinn's going to be taken out, let me do it. He's been a pain in my ass for years too. He almost pinned Talia on me, you know that?" Saying her name to his father, to the man who did have her blood on his hands, was like taking a knife to himself. But he knew he had to do it. He had to be cold, otherwise his father wouldn't believe him.

Douglas Daniels dropped the paper he was reading and looked up at Dane, expressionless. "You want me to give you the gun on a cop?"

"I want you to give me the gun on a guy I wished I could have taken out years ago. I owe him. It's personal."

His father sat back in his chair again, leaning on one hand and rubbing his lip with one finger, eyes hawkish on Dane. "I'll think about it," he said, but he didn't smile. The chill in Dane's blood increased.

Of course, behind him, Felix was grinning. Dane was careful to avoid his gaze. He still didn't know if his father had told Felix about their conversation. And Felix still—apparently—wanted Dane to consider taking his own father out.

The twist in Dane's stomach wrenched one turn tighter.

So many deadly men, so few options. Dane was going to have to figure out what he was going to do. Was he going all in with his father? He would never kill Harry Quinn—but he would ask for the gun and he would fuck shit up and if his Dad figured out he missed on purpose, well… maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

Sometimes he just wished they'd kill him and get it over with. Then he could stop fighting.

He was just so fucking tired.

*****

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