The Syndicate (23 page)

Shit had gone way left. When Javon had told me he was going to remove seats and replace Syndicate members, I knew all hell would break loose and that was exactly what was happening. After losing Cory and Inez, Javon had been on a roll. I still had no idea just how the hell he had managed to make a move on the Irish as he did. Just like I didn't know how the fuck my nephew was going to pull this shit off.

“How the fuck is this possible?” Creed asked. He was the head of the MC Federation. All the motorcycle clubs in the South who were worth anything had to answer to him. He looked every bit of his role, too. Leather and denim from head to toe. Tattoos covered his arms and neck.

But if you had the eye and looked close enough, you would see that Lucky wasn't the only mixed breed at the table. Javon sat at the head of table in a pose that was reminiscent of the one Malcolm X made famous. He was dressed in all black. Lucky sat to the right of him quietly observing everything.

“You're taking my seat, kid?” Creed asked again.

“Six seats will be removed by choice or by force,” Javon reiterated. “But, Creed, you can relax. We need you at the table. Now I have to be honest here, full disclosure. I was going to allow six chairs to stay, but have the older members removed; but I was going to allow those members to choose someone from their faction to replace them. I'm not so sure anymore.”

Creed looked around with a frown still etched on his golden, tanned face.

“We need the MC Federation. You guys run a clean ship. Not to mention your pipelines to prison are precise. Also, the clubs have access to other pipelines overseas that bring in a shitload of guns, product, and money so it would be stupid of me to remove you from the table. The money you bring in alone is enough to secure your seat, Creed. My mother spoke well of you, although she didn't like your old lady or your father,” Javon told the man honestly.

Creed chuckled, but kept his thoughts to himself.

I flanked Javon when he stood. He glanced at his phone again then looked at me. By the look on his face, I knew it was Shanelle. That would make the fourth time his phone had distracted him during the proceedings.

I laid a hand on his shoulder. “Ignore it until business is done,” I whispered to him. He needed to be on his toes while around these men. One slip and he could make a mistake he couldn't come back from. Shanelle could wait. I'd talk to him about that later. Clearly she could pose a threat by being his weakness and I couldn't have that. I was happy when he nodded and kept to the business at hand.

“I know you're all wondering why I had the seats arranged as they are today. Normally everyone has a designated seat. Today is the start of change. The Syndicate is a big deal. We all know that. I also know that most of you think I'm just some shit-faced nigger who doesn't deserve to be here. And I give you that; however, I'm a businessman and before the Syndicate is anything else, we're a business, a conglomerate if you will. On my right side, we have Lucky, who speaks for the North. You know his stock. Know what bloodline he comes from. So I wouldn't suggest any of you try any stupid shit like taking him out.”

Javon let his eyes linger on each man and woman at the table. He smiled.

“Next we have Ming Lee. She speaks for our Chinese friends and runs a damn clean organization.”

Ming smiled coyly and gave Javon a slight nod.

“We have Miguel who runs the Mexicans in the South and West. He's also our connect to the Cartel across the border. His seat is solidified.”

“Thank you,
amigo,
” Miguel said.

“Nighthawk is our connect to the reservations all over the
U.S.
It would be foolish to get rid of him. Not to mention with the way we wash money using the casinos in some places, to cut him off would be a fatal mistake for many of us.”

The big Seminole Indian nodded with a smirk on his face. I'd heard him speaking to Monty a few days before. It was good that Monty would have someone who would school him on the life he never knew.

“So,” Javon continued, “we have Nighthawk, Creed, Lucky, Ming, and Miguel. The Natives, the MC Feds, the Italians, the Chinese, and the Mexicans. That leaves one more seat.”

“This is bullshit!” shouted Rusev. “My family has been at this table for decades.”

“And what exactly have you brought to the table within the last ten years?” Javon asked. “The money you bring in can be replaced ten times. The product you're having shipped from Russia is not top quality. You've been fucking over the Syndicate for years, but you and Cormac had a system, right? You let the Irish skim off the top as long as Cormac always voted against you losing your seat.”

I could tell that everyone else at the table was stunned to silence.

“We're no longer running this fucking house as we once were and if you got a problem with that, you can join Cormac,” Javon said, venom laced in his tongue. “I've made my choices.”

“So we just get pushed out?” Roman, the head of the Romanian empire, asked. “We no longer get to eat?”

“Oh you eat. We all will eat, Roman. You just don't get to have a say in what goes on at this table anymore,” Javon answered.

“This is . . . this is madness,” Rusev blasted. “We're just going to stand for this?” he asked, eying the other members who had obviously been ousted just as he had.

“And who gets the last chair?” Delanna asked.

An easy smile covered Javon's features. It was a smile that said he knew something no one else did. Shit even I was curious to know who would be taking that seat.

Javon adjusted his suit jacket then his cufflinks and said with finality, “The last chair goes to a member of the Commission.”

The room got so quiet you could hear a fly piss on cotton. My eyes were just as wide as everyone else's. Holy fuck, Javon had just called an audible that would change the entire game. My nephew had officially shut me the fuck up.

Lucky leaned forward and quirked a brow at Javon. “You can't be serious,” he said.

Javon nodded once. “I am.”

Just as Javon said that, the double doors opened and in walked an old but spirited Italian man. The man had so much power that it settled over the room like a blanket. We all knew who he was so there was no need for introductions. Lucky stood immediately and made his way over to the man. It was no secret that they both sported the same crested ring. The man was flanked by armed guards, both men and women, who looked like they wouldn't hesitate to kill anyone in the room who moved the wrong way. Lucky, who was much taller than the man, kneeled. The old man placed a kiss on the top of his head then on both his cheeks.

“They treating you well,
il nipote
?” the old man asked, his voice croaky, but stern. He reminded me of Marlon Brando from
The Godfather.

“Yes,
lo zio,
” Lucky said then stood. “Come, have my seat.”

Lucky helped the old man over. It was odd to me to see Italians so accepting of a bastard offspring, especially one who had black in him. Javon didn't kneel, but he dipped his head so the old man could place a kiss there. He took Javon's hand in both of his and squeezed as he spoke.

“The Commission grants you with our protection from here until you step down from the Syndicate. The proposition you submitted could not be ignored and as long as it's in place you have the blessing of the Commission.”

The old man held his hand out and one of his guards placed a small black box in it. He opened it and pulled out a ring. It was similar to the crested one Lucky and the old man wore, but it had the symbol for the Syndicate on there as well. He slipped it on Javon's left ring finger then grabbed his face to kiss both his cheeks.

Now it made sense how Javon was able to effectively take out the Irish. I was so gotdamned shocked that I didn't notice the old man give a hand signal to his guards. So when gunfire erupted, I immediately drew my weapon and shielded Javon, but there was no need to. The other six members of the Syndicate had been executed at the hands of the Commission. Javon's hands were clean so any backlash against him would mean backlash against the Commission.

The Commission consisted of the top five crime families in New York and Italy. Javon had just made himself a “made” man. No one saw that coming, not even me. The game had officially changed.

Stay tuned for
The Syndicate Part II